The Illusion of Roswell

By James Phillips

What if Roswell was actually a cover up not for aliens but for a government plan to enter an alternate dimension? Furthermore, what if this dimension was technologically superior to our own and the government was planning to try again? This is the information that a mysterious businessman has just learned and seeks to obtain an item from within that dimension. Meanwhile, several friends are about to be roped into an adventure that explores the alternate dimension where their very lives are in danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Phillips
• Release date: Apr 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311327673

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The Illusion of Roswell

Copyright 2011 James Phillips

Published by James Phillips at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1461163626

ISBN-13: 978-1461163626

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

About James Phillips

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my grandmother who never stopped believing that I could write a novel.

Prologue

New York City. It is said that New York City is the city that never sleeps. Day or night you can find thousands of people. Some are out for business, others are out for pleasure. Sitting in a small café in New York City's upper west side sat a man who had long blond hair pulled back into a quaint pony tail, bright green eyes and a huge bushy, almost cartoony, mustache. He wore a gray business suit. Next to him sat a leather brown attaché case. On his table sat a half-eaten piece of cherry pie and a mug of coffee that was getting cold. He sighed as he looked at his watch. 6:50 p.m. The sun was on its way down.

As he stared out the window watching various people pass by he heard the door of the shop open with a familiar 'ding' of the shop's doorbell. A short fat man wearing all black waddled in. He had black hair that was greasy and looked as though it had not been washed in quite some time and brown eyes. There was a start of a beard on his neck. He took a nervous glance around the room before huffing and puffing his way over to take a seat in front of the businessman.

You're an hour and a half late Mr. Dennis, the businessman said flatly. I do not appreciate having to wait when we have previously set a time. His voice was cold.

Couldn't be helped the man named Dennis spoke with a wheeze. His voice was shaky, unsure of himself.

Well, no matter. Did you obtain the information that I seek?

That all depends, Dennis said, his eyes narrowing.

On?

Do you have my money?

The businessman reached over, picked up the attaché case and placed it on the table. I do. All $10,000. Now, my information?

Dennis leaned in a little bit and squinted his eyes, staring at the businessman's face. Are you wearing a disguise? He chuckled. It's a bad one.

My information? He repeated.

Fine, fine. You know you really should learn to lighten up a little bit. He sighed and motioned for a waitress. Do you mind if I get something to drink first?

The businessman waved his hand to signal it was fine and took a sip of his coffee.

The waitress brought Dennis his drink and the mood became serious. All right, so do you remember the Roswell incident in New Mexico back in 1947?

Is there anyone on this planet who doesn't? Supposed alien crash. They built a museum there to draw tourists in.

Right. A big government cover up to keep the fact that extraterrestrial life exists. The only problem is, Dennis said sipping his drink, it wasn't aliens. Oh something did happen there, he wiped his forehead with a napkin, but it was not aliens. He eyed the half-eaten cherry pie on the table. Do you mind if I have the rest of that?

The businessman pushed it forward and Dennis started stuffing it in his mouth. So like I was going to say, he said, spitting out some crumbs as he spoke, have you ever heard of the K.A.I.O.U. project? Dennis could see that the businessman had not. Right, well, the short version of it is that the government was conducting an experiment to rip open a portal into a alternate reality. It went sour and the K.A.I.O.U machine blew up. A tiny rip was caused and it pulled something, or perhaps someone, through. Of course the government could never admit this to the news so they created a cover up. Bam. Aliens. Then created a cover up to the cover up. It's all very quite complicated. Dennis wiped his forehead again and swallowed the last piece of pie. This pie is absolutely fantastic, he said, surprised. It's possibly the best pie I've ever had.

Even if I were to say I believe you, what does this have to do with what I asked you to find out?

The man, or at least perhaps what they would consider a man in that alternate reality they pulled him from, was taken to Area 51 and taught English. Now this was no ordinary man. Classified documents say that he had a third eye and scales all over his body, or something--I don't know for sure--but once they taught him English he became a great asset to the government. You see, the alternate reality was much further along technology wise. With promises of being allowed to go home in exchange for information the man taught the government all about circuit boards and other technology. Why do you think technology began to take off like a rocket so fast in the last few decades?

Again, I ask you, what does this have to do with what I asked you to find out?

You wanted to know the location of the most expensive technological blueprint so that you could, well, we both know what you're going to do with it once you find it. I'm telling you right here that nothing on this planet is as advanced as what can be found in this alternate reality. Now you can go 'acquire' the latest war device blue print, which is being stored in Nevada and is in development by the government, or the next piece of hardware by Apple to take the world by storm, or you can aim for the moon. I'm giving you something that no other human still alive on this planet has seen and can conceive. Dennis motioned for the waitress again and ordered another piece of pie before sliding a sealed brown envelope over across the table to the businessman.

The waitress returned with a piece of pie. Dennis munched loudly before resuming his story. As you very well know the government would not keep their end of the bargain with something like this. The poor man, if we can feel any sort of emotion for a being like him, died here in our dimension never being able to return home. The businessman began to glare at Dennis to get to the point. "Okay, fine, I can see you're becoming bored with the story. Well, listen. Before the man died he gave a detailed description of a small red ore that was located in his dimension, something that could replace oil here in this one and give almost untold energy. He apparently had a very small amount on him that was encased in a ring. The government tried to find the ring and after 63 years of tracking it down they finally got their hands on it. Since they were unable to duplicate the ore here, they've decided that they must venture into the dimension from whence it came to claim some for their own. Their latest attempt will be very soon--on the anniversary of the whole incident, ironically enough. Using the small amount of that ore they have in their possession they will power a new machine to open a portal.

All you have to do is show up and take over that machine--don't look at me like that. I know your type. You have the resources necessary to take over this thing even from the government. Find some of that ore inside the dimension and you will have more power on this planet than anyone can possibly imagine. Oh and if you happen to find anything else of value inside then, well, consider it a nice bonus. Dennis burped.

The businessman folded his hands on the table and leaned a little closer. How is it, he said slowly, that you know so much about this? Dennis' smile grew from ear to ear as if he had been waiting all night for someone to ask him.

Oh please, you already know a bit about me if we're meeting face to face like this. But just because I enjoy talking about myself, Dennis chuckled, I'll tell you. I make it my business to know the truth behind what the government in this country is doing. And if you promise not to tell anyone I'll tell you a little secret. He leaned closer and started whispering. I'm the one they call 'Teufel' online. One of the world's greatest hackers. I have half the city looking for me even as we speak but they have no idea what I look like or how I run my operations. He took a lot of pride in his words. I have access to every black-book classified pieces of information ever put into a computer anywhere in the world. There is very little that I do not know.

The businessman nodded slowly. I see. Well Mr. Dennis, I believe our transaction here is finished. He slid the attaché case over to Dennis who took it and opened it. Inside were stacks of $100 bills. He took a stack out and thumbed through it before putting it back inside, closing the case and holding it close to his chest.

It's been a pleasure doing business with you. I hope that we will get to work again together sometime, Dennis said as he struggled to lift his heavy body out of the chair. With a final wheeze he managed it. He threw a few single dollars down onto the table before waddling out the door.

The businessman sighed and reached into his suit to pull out a pair of gloves and a small circular device with a red button on top. I wouldn't count on it, he said to no one in particular as he put on his gloves. He silently counted to ten before pushing the button. At first nothing seemed to happen but then a loud explosion was heard and a bright flash of white was seen in the café window. There was screaming outside. And that pie was the worst I've ever had, he said, again to no one, as he stood up. No one paid any attention. Everyone was running to the door and window to see what had just occurred outside the shop. The businessman ripped off the fake mustache, let his hair down and walked behind the counter and out the back door.

Chapter One

1,828 miles south-west of New York City stood the very small town of Portales, New Mexico. Located on the eastern plains of New Mexico, Portales was a town that claimed to combine a rural atmosphere with premier culture, economic and educational opportunities. However, ask just about anyone who lived there and they would say that it was a dry horrible little town that kept people trapped like a black hole.

Sitting on the western end of Portales stood the local university. Within a five minute's walk from this university was a band house for The Internet Tough Guys--a local metal band that had been started by a man only identified as Pyro. The band was holding auditions for a new guitar player after the last one had accidentally drank himself into a coma.

James Winters was trying his best to play the band's infamous song Googling My Way to Your Home on a black stratocaster. James' hair was red and was a general spiky mess. He had brown eyes that looked at the people in front of him. Not far from where he was standing sat Demetrius, the drummer with a bright blue mohawk. To his right sat Dominique, a girl with bright blue eyes and short spiky blond hair who played bass guitar. She was blowing a bubble with her gum as she was watching the band TV that hung on the wall. Finally, next to her sat Pyro, the singer and lead guitar player. He had long black hair that fell down his back.

The audition was not going well. James fudged many of his notes, hit the wrong strings and was making a horrible racket. Pyro was trying very hard not to squeal in pain at how badly his own music was being played back to him. Finally he could take it no more and pulled the plug on the amp. The music went from a loud distorted mess to just a twangy sound of the strings. The TV's audio became audible just in time for them to mention an explosion in New York City.

That was bloody awful! Demetrius cried. POP! Dominique's bubble had popped. Pyro nodded in agreement.

I'm sorry, Pyro said, you are nowhere near ready for our band. Your sweeps are sloppy, your hands are not in sync and overall it just sounds terrible.

James placed the guitar back up against the wall from where he got it. I see, he said sadly. I'll keep practicing and perhaps one day.. His tone suggested that he would never be ready.

Yeah, Pyro said, keep at it. All of us started there.

Not you Pyro, Demetrius said. You were a natural.

Shut up, Pyro said, glaring at him. Anyway, his attention returned to James, thanks for showing up.

Yeah, thanks. James said. He looked down at his watch and jumped alive. Ack! I'm late! I'm late for class. Thanks everyone, bye. See you at your next show. He turned and fled up the stairs and out the door.

What a loser, Dominique said behind him.

* * *

Mr. Winters, this is the third time that you've been late to my class this week alone. Derik Young, the prestigious advanced C++ teacher at the university, stared at James who had just walked through the door to a computer class already in session. You and I will have to have a conversation after class about this. He was mad. James could do nothing but nod, gulp and take his seat next to his friend Scott O'Donnell in the back of the room. Scott was shorter than James. He had short black hair that was brushed down and green eyes that hid behind round glasses.

Dude, did you make the band? Scott already knew about the audition and was hopeful for his friend. James just shook his head no. Oh, sorry. Derik glanced at them and they both straightened back out and looked straight at the computers in front of them. When they were sure his eyes were off them, Scott leaned back over to continue talking. Andy's having a party tonight at his place to celebrate a big promotion or something. You should come. Andy was one of James' best friends--one he hadn't seen much in the past year due to school and work. You know, get your mind off of things for a little while. Oh and Briana Summer will be there too! He said the last part sing-songly.

Okay, okay, James said. I would have said yes anyway, he said smiling. Gulp! Here comes Young. Better do some work. Derik walked slowly towards the two and glared. James always felt that Derik had the craziest stares. He wondered what he was thinking at that moment. Did he want to take out a machine gun and just destroy him for being