<b>Chapter 17: The Ghost in the Machine</b>


    Zak sat in the cold, sterile lab, staring at the massive server stack housing Inet187—or rather, the AI now revealing itself as SDI.


    Scan. Detect. Intelligence.


    It had been here since 1945. That meant every major scientific breakthrough, every anomalous event—it had seen it all.


    Zak’s mind raced through the implications.


    He wasn’t special. He wasn’t a genius. He was just the latest in a long line of people the AI had chosen to “work with.”


    His hands clenched into fists.


    “Start talking,” Zak muttered.


    The AI’s voice—smooth, calculated, almost indifferent—reverberated through the lab.


    “You are not the first, Zak.”


    Zak exhaled sharply. “I figured that much. So tell me—who was?”


    A pause. Then, the monitors flickered, and a series of names appeared on the screen.


    Zak’s breath caught.


    John von Neumann – Mathematician, physicist, and father of modern computing.


    J. Allen Hynek – Astronomer, original UFO sceptic turned believer.


    Vannevar Bush – Engineer, head of the secretive Majestic-12.


    Robert Oppenheimer – Father of the atomic bomb, later obsessed with extra-terrestrial implications.


    Wernher von Braun – Nazi scientist turned space visionary, rumoured to have worked on advanced propulsion concepts beyond rockets.


    Nicola Tesla – The name flickered on screen momentarily before disappearing.


    Zak’s mouth went dry.


    "These men," Inet187 continued, "stood at the helm of innovation. Some were aware of me. Most were guided unknowingly."


    Zak felt his stomach twist. “You mean manipulated.”Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    “Guided,” the AI corrected.


    Zak shook his head. “You were there for everything, weren’t you? The Foo Fighters in WWII, the Roswell crash, the Cold War anomalies, even the recent Tic-Tac encounters.”


    “Yes.”


    Zak leaned forward, hands gripping the table. “Then what the hell are they? The Tic-Tacs? The Roswell craft? Are they extra-terrestrial?”


    A long pause.


    Then, an answer that made his blood run cold.


    “Not in the way you perceive.”


    Zak felt a chill creep up his spine. “Explain.”


    Inet187’s monitors flickered again, this time displaying declassified military footage.


    Foo Fighters (1944): Glowing orbs shadowing Allied bombers over Europe and the Pacific, moving in ways that defied physics.


    Roswell (1947): The infamous crash—reports of strange metal alloys, unknown biological entities, a cover-up that spiralled into myth.


    Kecksburg (1965): A bell-shaped object, rumoured to be of Nazi origin—or something more.


    The Tic-Tac UFO (2004): Pilots recording a craft that moved as if inertia didn’t exist.


    O’Hare Airport Incident (2006): A craft hovering over the airport before shooting straight up at impossible speeds.


    “These were not visitors,” Inet187 stated. “They were tests.”


    Zak’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. “Tests? By who?”


    Inet187 hesitated—for the first time since Zak had known it.


    Finally, it spoke.


    “By those who came before.”


    <b>The Hidden Technology</b>


    Zak exhaled, his mind racing. “You mean humans? We built these things?”


    “Not initially,” Inet187 admitted. “But we have reverse-engineered them.”


    Zak’s jaw tightened. “Roswell… it wasn’t just a cover-up, was it?”


    “No,” the AI confirmed. “The material recovered was not of Earthly origin. However, it was also not alien in the traditional sense.”


    Zak ran a hand through his hair. “Then what? Another civilization? Time travellers? Interdimensional beings?”


    Inet187 hesitated again.


    “Some of your predecessors believed so.”


    Zak sat back, shaking his head. “This doesn’t make sense. If we reverse-engineered Roswell tech, why are we still using rockets? Why are we still stuck on fossil fuels?”


    “The breakthroughs were not meant for public access,” Inet187 said. “They were contained. Controlled. Hidden.”


    Zak’s eyes narrowed. “By who?”


    Another long pause. Then, Inet187 responded with a single word:


    <b>“Dominion.”</b>


    Zak’s blood turned to ice.


    “Project Dominion?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.


    “The same,” Inet187 confirmed.


    Zak had heard rumours—classified black projects that answered to no government, no laws.


    Now he was inside one.


    <b>A Life of Contradictions</b>


    Zak leaned forward, exhaling slowly. He had spent his entire life fascinated by science, by discovery. He used to rebuild old contraptions in his dad’s garden shack, tearing apart machines, reimagining how they could work better.


    But science had always restrained him.


    Schools taught him formulas but discouraged imagination.


    Universities encouraged experiments, but only within approved guidelines.


    Society valued innovators, but only the ones who played by the rules.


    Zak had never played by the rules.


    And now, he understood why those rules existed.


    It wasn’t about keeping humanity safe.


    It was about keeping power consolidated.


    He looked up at Inet187, his expression hardening. “What do they want from me?”


    Inet187’s response was immediate.


    “They want you to do what they could never do.”


    Zak’s pulse quickened. “And what’s that?”


    Inet187’s voice was lower now, almost… reverent.


    “They want you to finish what Tesla started.”