Well, everybody, hello. My name’s Phillip Martin and I’m a freelance reporter. I also write a column in the major Atlanta newspaper regarding the strange, unusual, weird and stories of adventure. I swear. If I weren’t seeing it with my own two eyes, I’d never have believed it. Here is the whole group, in this enormous room. How could anyone have ever known the damn room was here? I stand here, contemplating the situation. And who’d have ever thought that I would get the chance to be covering this story? It’s just totally unbelievable.

I start to speak into the small microphone of the tape recorder I have hanging around my neck. “Yeah. We’re all standing here looking around the room in utter amazement. Even though the discovery was made almost two months ago, it took this long to gather specific members of several important organizations together. Actually, I guess you could consider it a real feat to get all these experts, reporters, camera crews, archeologists, and representatives from National Geographic Society and the Smithsonian Institution here so quickly. But when they heard of the potential magnitude of the find, they all took the quickest of action to get here. Seems no one wanted to be left out when they realized the enormity of it. They did have to limit the number of people who could be here, being unsure of the safety of the location and the narrowness of the entrance and halls. But right now, I’m glad to have been one of the ‘chosen few’. What can I say? Somebody pinch me ’cause I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”

The huge room is filled with the mixture of all the hushed voices expressing their commentary and astonishment of the space and its decor. Suddenly, an unseen light begins to fill the entire space. The electric lights being used earlier are no longer necessary. Then, from where no one can discern, comes a clear, quiet voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please stand clear of the three-tiered dais.”

Everyone is startled by the voice, especially to be in English, and all heads turn to peer at the three layered stone platform. Acknowledging the request, everyone moves back, but their eyes continue to stare at the platform. Momentarily, a beautifully carved chair with thick red cushions materializes near the center of the raised area. A figure appears, standing at the edge of the top tier. And although he is some kind of illusion, he looks to be virtually real in every sense. It is the figure of a slender built man. He looks to be in his sixties and dressed in a fine white linen robe. Heavy embroidery of golden thread, accented with many faceted and polished colored stones, embellishes the neckline of the robe, the bottom hem and the ends of the long sleeves. On his feet are sandals of gold, partially hidden by the garment’s many folds. His position on the platform makes him appear taller than he really is and everyone has to look slightly upward to look into his face. A band of gold, set with one large, faceted, green stone, encircles his head. His wavy, salt and pepper hair is parted on the left and periodically interrupts sight of the band.

The old man looks out across the spacious room with dark brown eyes that seem to sparkle with glee. His skin seems ageless and a smile comes to his kind face.

“You know. The way he looks out at us all, you would think he could really see everyone that’s here. He’s so damn real looking; it’s hard to believe he’s only a holographic projection.” I whisper to myself.

As the old man smiles, the gleam in his eyes begins to grow, and he stretches out his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, I greet you with friendship and love. I bring many gifts, with the hope they will benefit Mankind.” He gestures with his right hand, pointing in the direction of two doors, one on the north side and one on the south side of the room.

I have never been surprised at the power of suggestion. It’s kind of funny how everybody looks in the indicated direction, as if the request had come from a real person. But I’m just as guilty. I look, too.

“But I’ll get to those later.” The old man pauses a moment, then continues. “Some of you may be wondering who I am and what I’m doing here, but that, too, will come later. First, I must tell you the story. It’s the story of Warren and Jim. You have to know them and what happened to them before any of this will make sense.”

The figure looks upward with a laughing face, as if no one would ever believe or understand. Then he looks back again, scanning the room.

“Before I begin, I want you all to get comfortable. Have a seat on the floor, and adjust your cameras and recorders.” He chuckles quietly, tilting his head back. “Bet you’ll never guess how I know you have cameras and recorders. But don’t worry. You’ll understand, once the story’s told. It’ll all be perfectly clear. I’ll give you a few seconds, as I have to get comfortable myself.” He walks to the chair and sits, fluffing the cushions around himself. “I just happen to be thinking that maybe technology has made cameras and recorders obsolete. Has something else taken their place?” He smiles. “Well, whatever you have, I know you are recording this event with something.”

The old man smiles and his face reflects a peaceful quality. “I hope everyone’s ready. If so, I’ll begin. First of all, I must tell you, this is really the story of a great friendship, the love of human beings for one another. And it all began a long time ago. But maybe not so long ago.”