I received the download on the turnpike at night, with the yellow orange glow of industrialized New Jersey spread out in front of me like a glitched out game on a wide-screen TV.  It came in loud and clear: You Are Not Alone.  What was happening to me was happening to many others, which is why I needed to take careful note of the information I received and the manner in which it came—so that they would also know they weren’t alone. I was told: Carry a notebook at all times and Don’t Worry.

I received the download on the turnpike at night, with the yellow orange glow of industrialized New Jersey spread out in front of me like a glitched out game on a wide-screen TV.  It came in loud and clear: You Are Not Alone.  What was happening to me was happening to many others, which is why I needed to take careful note of the information I received and the manner in which it came—so that they would also know they weren’t alone. I was told: Carry a notebook at all times and Don’t Worry.

I didn’t have a big question that I wanted answered—I just wanted to know that they were there, doing their thing.  And they were.  They Watch and They Wait, big and peaceful—fat like Buddhas with energy and geometry.  They appeared like they did in the flashes I used to think were dreams, a picture sent in pieces to the back seat, the radio playing while Dad drove us home under the Milky Way.

I didn’t have a big question that I wanted answered—I just wanted to know that they were there, doing their thing.  And they were.  They Watch and They Wait, big and peaceful—fat like Buddhas with energy and geometry.  They appeared like they did in the flashes I used to think were dreams, a picture sent in pieces to the back seat, the radio playing while Dad drove us home under the Milky Way.

Here deep in Utah, on a ranch on a mountain with no humans for miles, I have a profound sense of being watched—of being zoomed in and out upon, especially at night.  On the evening I arrived, I watched the star Sirius move slowly over the top of a ridge blackened into silhouette against the brilliantly twinkling switchboard of space…it morphed into a triangle shape, glowing, and shooting occasional green laser beams—as wide as the whole horizon.  They lit up the sky like prolonged photo flashes.  The man who is one half of the couple who owns and runs the ranch, came by and put his arm around my shoulders and pointed up in the direction of my gaze. “Look at Sirius out there,” he said, his voice gravelly from thousands of cigarettes.  He was wearing a handmade, three-quarter length coat made of patchwork pieces of red and white suede with intricate threaded patterns forming secret code all across the arms and back. “For weeks it’s been messin with me, showin up and just hanging out like that.  Look…” he said, “See it changing shape?” I nodded, speechless, and glanced at his profile—his left eye sparkling with starlight like a diamond in a pit.  I looked back up at Sirius and noticed it had stopped moving. “It’s watchin us,” he said, laughing good naturedly. Then, after a few minutes of silence in which the object seemed to pulse and spin he added, “We’re being downloaded.  Right now…can you feel it?”

Here deep in Utah, on a ranch on a mountain with no humans for miles, I have a profound sense of being watched—of being zoomed in and out upon, especially at night.  On the evening I arrived, I watched the star Sirius move slowly over the top of a ridge blackened into silhouette against the brilliantly twinkling switchboard of space…it morphed into a triangle shape, glowing, and shooting occasional green laser beams—as wide as the whole horizon.  They lit up the sky like prolonged photo flashes. 

The man who is one half of the couple who owns and runs the ranch, came by and put his arm around my shoulders and pointed up in the direction of my gaze.

“Look at Sirius out there,” he said, his voice gravelly from thousands of cigarettes.  He was wearing a handmade, three-quarter length coat made of patchwork pieces of red and white suede with intricate threaded patterns forming secret code all across the arms and back.

“For weeks it’s been messin with me, showin up and just hanging out like that.  Look…” he said, “See it changing shape?”

I nodded, speechless, and glanced at his profile—his left eye sparkling with starlight like a diamond in a pit.  I looked back up at Sirius and noticed it had stopped moving.

“It’s watchin us,” he said, laughing good naturedly. Then, after a few minutes of silence in which the object seemed to pulse and spin he added,

“We’re being downloaded.  Right now…can you feel it?”