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He said that the ancient Egyptians weren't humans; that they were another, secret race. And that a secret planet out there between the asteroid belt and Jupiter, Planet X, would return to near-Earth-orbit sometime in the next ten years. He said that Vladimir Putin and John Kerry had both visited Antarctica to learn from the technology of a secret alien race buried beneath the ice, and that every American president had been a Reptilian -- reptiles that shape-shift and adopt a human figure and wreak silent havoc on society. Then he said that the Federal Government doesn't print money, and that the Federal Reserve was about as Federal as Federal Express. And laughed at the cleverness of this borrowed phrase. Said that NASA was shadowed by another space organization the SSP (Secret Space Program). That they had traveled to other worlds in the fifties.

"Stare into my eyes. Ever see a black dude with blue eyes?" he asked. His grandmother was white. Really, really, really white. Also Jewish. That's where he got the eyes. She raised him in Jamaica when his mother fell ill. And told him stories about the trillions and trillions of stars. And how the aliens walk among humans even now. Quietly. Afraid to come out and show their faces.

That story about discs in the Arizona sky a few weeks ago? Aliens. That World Bank attorney who got in trouble for ethics violations? It was because she knew too much about the aliens and was going to make sure that more people knew about it.

His compatriot, who got on the train with him at Brooklyn Bridge, started to look around the car uncomfortably. Not the first time he had heard these stories. Bearded and recessed of eye. Maybe he knew not to engage. Not to ask these kinds of questions. He wanted to talk about his daughter who lived in Staten Island; his home in Brighton Beach. He got off at Bowling Green to catch the ferry and flashed a look of "good luck."

Because next it was about how Hillary Clinton had amassed troops in Europe on the border with Russia to prepare for World War III. And the train seemed to slow. Then it stopped in the tunnel. And he was talking again about hieroglyphics and ancient engineering, and how his wife had started to throw away all of the books that he had read by a guy who had been to the moon and returned to observe that there had been an entire race of people up there.

"On the dark side of the moon, my friend. There are people there, you can be sure of that."

Prada glasses. Dark, well-fitted jeans, and an umbrella with a wooden handle. He worked in the city comptroller's office. And he alighted at Atlantic Avenue, advising "Remember what I told you here today. There will be other people who want you to forget. But you must remember."

This solemn responsibility imparted, he stepped off the train.

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