merits of Randolph’s idea and the appropriate dreary analogy to attach to it. “What if we went under it?” I asked. At first they ignored me so I repeated myself. The second time I said it broke through the sounds of their ridiculous argument and the three of them looked at me like I had three eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Tessa. “I’m talking about going under the river.” “If you mean swim, you can forget about it. The water is too fucking cold and furthermore, the current would sweep us up river and drown us before we made it fifty yards. “No, I mean literally under the river, through the caves.” Once again I was assaulted by dubious expressions on their faces. I was a little offended. “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m crazy, it’s just a thought. I saw this news clip one time. Minneapolis is loaded with underground natural caves. The flour mill across the way had a whole networking system built into them about a million years ago for steam power or some shit like that. If memory serves, the tunnels were rumored to extend all the way under the river to this side. They have been closed for eons so the chances that whoever is controlling the city is worried about possible entry under their feet are pretty low.” “So you want to go searching for a possible tunnel that most likely doesn’t exist somewhere on this side of the river?” Randolph asked sarcastically. “We don’t have time for a useless haystack search right now, George. It’s getting colder every day. We either need to figure out this city madness right away or start talking about a trip south for the winter,” said Lanskey.” “Looking for a needle in a haystack wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I told them. When I finished my brief explanation I could see they didn’t really believe me, which I found amazing considering what they’d already seen me do. “Georgie, you are a special kind of stupid but if what you say is possible then we might as well give it a shot. While you’re at it, the brain trust here and I will keep spit-balling ideas in case your plan doesn’t work,” Tessa said. That seemed like an agreeable idea.
Chapter 7: Project Simon The Past Much like his first encounter with Dick the lunatic, Dr. Andrew Penrod’s first memories of Area 51 were frozen into his mind with bitter clarity. The massive well-lit hanger that captured his attention from the small window of the jet could have been anything really. But the glances he stole at the very smug looking Dick confirmed this would be a night of continual surprises for Andrew. Upon landing he was passed off to a group of dour-looking security personnel. His shouted questions were ignored by Dick and the security team as they ushered him rudely into the facility. As the large steel elevator doors closed, his last visual of Dick was of the man sipping coffee as he stood on the tarmac. They descended to some unknown depth before the doors opened to a lobby area devoid of any seating options. Beyond the lobby was a large half-oval shaped security desk manned by a team of five people. The gleaming metallic walls of the room hurt his eyes as they approached the bulletproof glass that separated the security desk from the lobby. Andrew was reminded of a DMV office on steroids. Still nobody would answer his questions as he was put through a battery of security protocols. Eventually he stopped asking questions and endured his fear in silence. He was issued a badge, retinal and fingerprint scans and a brief explanation on how to navigate the secure areas. He was barely listening which was fine as he was to be assigned a personal guide for the first few days of