One Hundred Degrees South - Beyond Belief

Chapter 1

Wednesday 28th November 1979 – The Mount Erebus Disaster

Air New Zealand DC-10, Flight 901, left Christchurch airport at dawn, climbing gracefully into the pale blue, early summer skies over the Southern Ocean. It was supposed to be a routine sightseeing tour—a sweep along the legal perimeter of the Antarctic Treaty Zone, a place that for some obscure reason, the governments of the world had long agreed, was too politically volatile to trespass upon.

At least, that was what the passengers believed.

Captain Jim Collins didn’t share their certainty. He had flown in Antarctica for fifteen years, long enough to know that the treaty lines were not abstract diplomatic terms. They were real, strictly enforced borders monitored by a force that didn’t officially exist—the United Nations Antarctic Interceptor Force, the UN-AIF.

Pilots joked about them—mysterious aircraft that never appeared on radar, sinister patrols that emerged from nowhere, the whispered stories of what happened to planes that crossed the wrong line. They joked, yes, but no one ever crossed those lines—at least, not intentionally.

Four hours into the flight, Collins frowned at his instruments. “Navigation drift,” he muttered. “Must be magnetic shear again.”

His first officer, Greg Cassin, tapped the compass housing, a puzzled expression adorning his face. “That can’t be right. We’re well south of our designated co-ordinates.”

Collins felt his blood run cold. Navigation drift to near the 62nd parallel was normal but to drift this far south was not. He ran what he hoped would be a manual fix, then recalculated. He ran it again and exhaled noisily in exasperation. They were nowhere near where they were supposed to be, they were inside the Antarctic Treaty Exclusion Zone—the area forbidden to all civilian aircraft.

Beyond that invisible boundary, the UN Interceptor Force had full authority to neutralise any unauthorised craft—plane or boat. Collins swallowed. “We’ve crossed the line.”

Cassin stared at him. “By how much?”

Before he could answer, the radio crackled. A voice—cold, clipped, and absolutely calm—filled the cockpit. “Air New Zealand Flight 901, this is UN-AIF Interceptor Two. You are operating in restricted airspace. Throttle back your engines and prepare for enforced descent. Now.”

Cassin’s face went pale. “Oh God, where the hell are we?” he whispered to his superior officer.

The passengers noticed the shadow first—an unmarked blue jet gliding beside them like a prowling shark. It wasn’t a fighter jet as the world understood them; it was sleeker, built for stealth and painted in matt glacial blue with the white UN insignia on its tail.

Murmurs of apprehension spread through the passenger cabin like wildfire. 

“What’s that?” “Is this part of the tour?” “Why is it so close?”

Collins manned the radio. “UN-AIF Interceptor Two, this is civilian sightseeing aircraft Air-NZ 901. We’ve had a navigation failure. We’re correcting course now.”

The anonymous, sinister voice returned, still as calm as the lightly falling snow outside.

“Course correction rejected. You are within a restricted ecological and security zone. You will deploy emergency flaps immediately and prepare for descent.”

Collins, desperate now, tried again. “We have two-hundred-and-fifty-seven souls on board. Prepare for descent to wh—?”

“Failure to comply will result in termination.”

Cassin whispered, “They’re bloody-well serious, sir.”

Collins knew that the Treaty’s Exclusion Zone hid things that the public wasn’t allowed to know—whatever lay beyond the sixtieth parallel was to remain a closely guarded secret. Antarctica was not an alleged ‘sanctuary,’ it was an enigma, an insoluble riddle and those in power were determined it would remain so—at all costs.

The Interceptor drew closer. Then a second appeared, and a third. Some of the passengers began to cry, while others hastily scribbled final notes of eternal love to family, they sensed they would never see again. Notes that would never reach their intended recipients.

Collins angled the radio mic away from him slightly so that the Interceptor wouldn’t hear the tremor in his voice. “UN-AIF, we request the emergency negotiation protocol. We have…”

A blinding line of light streaked across the plane’s port side—a tracer, deliberately wide of the target, but close enough to obliterate Collins’ words. Some passengers screamed. 

Cassin stuttered, “That… was… a warning.”

“It was,”Collins replied, “But the next one won’t be.”

The Interceptor pilot spoke again.

“Air New Zealand Flight 901, you are ordered to deploy emergency flaps and prepare for guided descent to Holding Site Delta. Fail to comply, and we will take the necessary extreme action.”

Collins’ mind raced. Working overtime.

If they descended… Holding Site Delta…? He’d only ever heard vague rumours from his colleagues of ‘military detention,’ ‘biohazard decontamination,’ and of people who’d entered and were never heard from again. He thought of the passengers—families with children, tourists, retirees, a group of university researchers. None of them deserved that fate. So, he made his decision—rightly or wrongly.

“Greg, full power. North bearing, now!” Cassin blinked rapidly. “Jim, no—they’ll shoot us down.”

“They won’t kill civilians,” he exclaimed, praying he was right. “Not intentionally.”

Cassin pushed the throttles forward hard and the engines roared. The DC-10 banked steeply and then surged northward but the Interceptors reacted instantly.

A beam flashed past the cockpit—a kinetic pulse, non-explosive, designed to disable engines without destroying them. The first shot missed. The second didn’t and a violent jolt tore through the fuselage. One engine died. The plane yawed hard to the left and fearful cries erupted in the passenger cabin.

Alarms screamed in the cockpit. ‘Bank angle, bank angle,’ ‘pull up, pull up.’ The two pilots fought the controls, muscles shaking and sinews straining as they tried their damnedest to level the aircraft.

“Come on, come on…!”

A missile then ripped into the starboard wing. The plane’s structure groaned as it failed, air shuddering around the stress.

Cassin shouted, “We’ve lost her, Jim.”

Collins didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The plane dipped sharply, auto alarms still blaring. It seemed that the ice rushed upward to meet them and passengers clung to each other, crying, praying, screaming.

A voice—that same calm, robot-like Interceptor voice—spoke one last time through the static. “Incursive impact imminent.”

Then their world turned white.

The crash tore a fiery black scar across the ice on the slopes of the volcano, Mount Erebus. The aircraft broke along its spine, scattering metal, shattered glass and mangled bodies across a frozen landscape that few humans had ever seen. The Interceptors circled once, satisfied that they had now done their duty and then returned to base.

Within hours, a UN-AIF recovery crew donning white hazard suits swept the site with an efficiency that bordered on inhuman. They carried equipment with no civilian markings, devices that hummed softly like the Antarctic wind. The crew leader spoke into a visor-mounted transmitter.

“Core Zone breach neutralised. Activate the containment protocol.”

They moved quickly, collecting data, debris, and—carefully, quietly—the scattered body parts. Anything that belonged to Flight 901 disappeared into unmarked crates and the wind and snow quickly erased the tracks they left behind them.

By nightfall, no trace remained.

Two weeks later, the official report was circulated to select UN committees, for distribution to the world’s media…

Civilian flight Air New Zealand Flight 901 lost in Antarctica 28th November 1979, due to unprecedented adverse weather conditions and navigational malfunction. No survivors.

Nothing more.

The boundary stayed secret. The Interceptors stayed secret and the mountain slope where the plane crashed remained off-limits under the deepest level of treaty classification. And far from the world’s eyes, the Interceptor Force continued their patrols—guardians of a border no one acknowledged, but which every nation respected.

And Antarctica itself, indifferent as ever to the sinister machinations of those in power, continued to hold the truth within its frozen silence.

Chapter 2

Thursday 16th March 2023 – 

The Eve of Dobbo and Asiri’s Engagement

“They told you that the world was a ball—spinning, floating, perfect, wrapped in blue and crowned with satellites. But what if that image, the one in every Earthlander classroom, on every computer, in books and planted within every mind was never meant to inform you, it was meant to limit you? The globe is not a map; it is a containment model, a closed-loop visual spell designed to make sure that you never ask what is beyond the edge.

And Antarctica is not a continent, it is a barrier, a sealed, frozen ring that surrounds all of ‘Earthland.’ There are no-fly zones, international treaties that no one questions, guarded borders with military enforcement and they say it is for science—but no one builds worldwide military restrictions just to protect penguins or mineral deposits! What are they really hiding at the edge?  Old maps do not place Antarctica at the bottom, they place it around the world, a circle, a cage. 

The archives before NASA, before the UN, before the modern globes, show maps with extra continents, unknown lands—islands bigger than Australia but now missing! The Orontius Finaeus Delphinus map of 1531 depicts Antarctica as ice-free with rivers and cities. The Piraeus map of 1513 includes land no one has yet discovered and ancient Japanese maps show concentric realms with more land beyond ours. These were not guesses, these were records but they were all redacted. There are places you cannot go, not because they do not exist but because they are sealed; marked as ‘no access,’ uninhabitable or classified. The maps cut them off, the globe curves them out but the ancients included them. Beyond the ice wall, beyond the assumed pole, there are lands and realms never taught about in modern, freemasonic-controlled Earthland educational establishments. And lost worlds such as Extrema, Thoth, Lemuria and Atlantis, but what is clear is this; they are not for the likes of you. The Russian map of 1958, declassified in parts, shows more than seven continents—as do the ancient Vedic Scrolls and also the Sumerian records. The Admiral Byrd expedition logs hint at land bigger than the U.S. beyond the pole, so why were you only taught about seven continents? It is because knowledge of additional realms totally breaks the illusion.

If the Earth is larger, the controlled realm is smaller and if there is more land, there are more resources, more origin stories, more beings and less control. They did not just lie about the land, they also rewrote the heavens and they turned the stars into a projection, a fixed dome of mapped illusion. And the ancient ones did not navigate by constellations they navigated by resonance because the ‘real’ map is not just horizontal—it is vertical too. The sky above is not space, it is a grid, a layered interface, a frequency ceiling and what we call stars, they are not suns, they are nodes, points in the cosmic circuit board.

Those maps depicted things that broke the spell, but they were not guessing, they were preserving. Empires could not allow that, so the maps were destroyed and the cartographers burned at the stake as witches, murdered or absorbed into secret societies.

The maps in use today are the censored versions. The UN Globe is a distortion of the flat Earth azimuthal equidistant map, stripped of names, borders and truth. You were told to think in two dimensions but the Earth has many more layers than that. Those continents did not sink, they were veiled, shifted out of resonance and that is why legends of Lemuria, Mu, Thoth and ancient Hyperborea exist on every continent—different names, same memories. Every time an area was erased from the map it was not through nature, it was through deception and war. Borders were not drawn with pens, they were carved with fire, blood and rewritten memories. Entire empires vanished overnight—not by collapse but by deletion and when they erased the land they did not stop there, they wiped the languages, the cultures, the memories of those who lived there. It was not conquest, it was cartographic genocide and they did not just erase land they erased your ancestor’s lives, your tribes and your history. Then they presented you with a globe and said, ‘this is all there is.’ 

Even the right to rule was based on hidden geography, encoded in DNA. You could not enter certain places without that frequency within your blood and you think it is a coincidence that royalty and the cabal are obsessed with genealogy? They did not just want to preserve purity; they wanted to preserve gate access. You have always been told to look outside for the answers but the real journey is inward. The veins in your body mirror river systems, your neural pathways echo ley line grids and your heartbeat synchronises itself to the Earth’s Schumann Resonance.[1] This is no longer about physical territory; it is about mapped consciousness. They cannot colonise land they cannot find so they colonised you, your beliefs, your memories, your internal compass and now they distort the magnetic grid, scramble the solar codes and fill your skies with poisons and noise.

Do not follow their maps anymore, do not walk them back into existence. They say you are looking at suns, giant burning spheres millions of miles away but when you really look up, especially through a real lens unfiltered by NASA or freemasonic ‘science,’ you do not see fiery balls, you see oscillating patterns, swirling lights almost like ripples on water or vibrating sound signatures. Stars look circular, not because they are solid spheres but because they are resonant frequencies held in place, harmonic nodes flickering in the firmament’s grid. You are not looking out into infinity, you are looking into a dome of light frequencies mapped, mirrored and mathematically fixed and that is why the constellations have never changed, not in thousands of years, because they are not hurtling through space, they are part of the design. You are told the sun rises and sets because the Earth spins, but that is not what you see. The suns, your sun and ours, do not rise, they rotate in a wide arc above the land just like a local spotlight over a giant stage and that is why sunrise and sunset look so horizontal and why light fades evenly in every direction, not because the Earth is turning but because the light source is moving above you.

Watch time lapses from a high altitude and you will see the sun curve around you rather than sink away. That is because suns circle overhead, their light is local, their path precisely measured and their movement aligns perfectly with the ancient cosmologies. No tilting Earth, no spiralling through endless space, just ‘clockwork’ suns within the sealed system. And why do sunsets bleed red? It is because the firmament, the dome, is refracting the light. The deeper the angle, the thicker the dome's filter—you are watching a contained orb dim through a crystalline ceiling. They told you that your sun was ninety-three million miles away and performed endless mathematical gymnastics to ‘prove’ it, but if it were, its rays would hit the Earth in parallel lines, but instead we see crepuscular rays, those sunbeams that diverge from a single point but that only happens when the light source is near, very near!

They told us that the moon reflects the sun’s light and is just a passive rock reflecting solar rays but step outside on a clear night and you will feel it. The moon does not warm, it cools. That is because the moon is not a reflector, it is emitting its own cold light and infrared thermometers have tested and proved it to be true. Objects in direct moonlight are colder than those in the shade but that is not how reflection works—that is opposite radiation.

Ancient mystics called the moon ‘the counter-sun,’ a balancing force but it is not neutral, not passive, it alters sleep, shifts moods, and it does not just shine, it affects us in many ways. And that face we always see, it is locked. The moon never rotates away from our view, it shows one face only, as if it was positioned in place, artificially formed. Even the craters behave strangely with shadows facing in the wrong directions, flat-bottomed like imprints and not concave impact zones.

So, what is it? A local luminary, a signal tower code-emitter? Its phases synchronise with tides, birth cycles, menstrual cycles, blood and dream states. It is not random it is ritualistic and if it is broadcasting, what is it receiving? They say our stars are suns, scattered across a limitless void but they have never moved, not in millennia, not in any meaningful way. The same constellations our distant ancestors saw are still in the same positions they always were. The North Star has never left the centre, even though they claim we spin, tilt, orbit and spiral headlong through space. If we were truly hurtling through the cosmos along with the rest of creation, we would not see perfect cycles and static star maps we would see chaos—but what we see instead is structure.

The stars do not float they are fixed points in the firmament grid, oscillating lights locked into the celestial circuitry. The zodiac is not about personality and characteristics, it is a ‘sky clock,’ a cosmic calendar and each sign represents a seasonal frequency window with energetic gates that align with Earthly events. That is why major rituals always happen under specific star signs and specific, significant dates and it is not astrology, it is timing within the firmament’s programme. And the twelve zodiacal symbols are not just signs, they are sky sectors used to orientate time, energy, soul-transit and even ancient temples were aligned to the fixed stars because the ancients knew that the true grid is not GPS, it is celestial. When you look up, you are not seeing infinity you are seeing the ‘clockwork’ of the celestial construct.

They say space is endless but every rocket ever launched hits the same thing, the firmament, a point where speed dies, engines stall and stop and the silence becomes heavy. They show you CGI galaxies and green-screen launches, but no raw footage ever breaks through because we cannot fly through space, we are sealed in the firmament. It is not a metaphor, it is a structure described in Genesis, the Quran, echoed in our very own, treasured Quechuan manuscripts and mirrored in ancient cosmologies from Egypt to the Norse tree of life, Yggdrasil. It is a barrier, a vault, a ceiling of containment so that we cannot leave physically. No one has, not through force and not with technology but there are other ways. The ancient mystics knew, the shamans, the monks who fasted for forty days, the prophets who vanished into the mountains and returned changed—they did not escape with spaceships, they exited through frequency.

They told you that the Earth is a globe, 24,000 miles in circumference—a perfect spinning ball in space but even that number does not hold up to scrutiny. Airline flight-paths do not match the curve. No one accounts for curvature in construction, the horizon goes on forever and even pilots such as yourselves, Adam and Sami, have spoken on record to the effect that the Earth is a flat, level plain. So how big it really is you never really knew for sure because you were never shown the full map. But what you are now realising is that the Earth extends far beyond the known continents on your side of the ice wall.

Ancient maps show dozens of other realms, including Thoth. A 1958 Soviet-era map shows over thirty continents; some say hundreds and that is just in this realm. The land upon which we all stand does not curve; it expands! We are not on a globe we are on an endless plain, a plain so vast it would break your programming to grasp it all at once. So how far does it go? Who knows? There may even be mirror realms, duplicate worlds and light inversions and, as some suggest, it may even wrap in on itself like a toroidal field, a looping construct of endless terrain. But what is certain, my friends, is that it is far, far bigger than you have been told! It stretches much further even than the extremities of this realm and Thoth and none of my compatriots have ever discovered an edge.

Admiral Byrd spoke of massive, undiscovered continents beyond the ice wall which is why the Antarctic Treaty was signed and the entire area closed-off with military protection. They wanted it hidden, never to be revealed to the rank and file, but here it is, no more coded language, no poetic veil. You wanted the truth and now you are standing on it! Yes, there are other lands just like this one. It is not fantasy, not a metaphor, real lands here beyond the ice wall, in this and other enclosed systems, other domes, other realms, each with their own suns, their own moons, their own grids. You have been taught that you are on the only one in existence, but that is a gross lie. You live on one pocket of terrain in a much larger construct. Each pocket is a sealed system, a contained environment and part of a vast interconnected design.

Some ancient maps show rings upon rings of land, each one self-governing with its own beings’ timelines and laws of nature. We are not alone; we were never alone. So why do they not tell you? It is because control only works when you believe that there is nowhere else to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide and nothing beyond. If humanity at large found out about these realms, governments would fall, borders would collapse, people would demand passage and that is why the Antarctic Treaty exists and it is why no country claims the South Pole region. That is also why all Earthland militaries protect the edge. You are from just one realm in a vast grid of worlds you were not meant to know about or find out about. But now you know, Antarctica is not the end—it is the beginning!

You feel the truth within you now, do you not? The ice wall is not simply just frozen terrain patrolled by armed men in uniforms tasked with keeping the borders sealed. Ancient sailors spoke of giants in the south, Admiral Byrd hinted at massive creatures beyond the pole and even ancient cartographers drew serpents, dragons and humanoid beasts guarding the perimeters. They were not just decorating maps; they were documenting memories. There are reports, buried deep, of feathered colossi roaming edge zones, ice serpents surfacing near the wall, bipedal sentinels immune to weapons and humanoid watchers with eyes that glow under the Aurora. These are not just stories, they are warnings! Some beings were placed here, not to harm but to contain, to prevent you crossing between realms, unless one is resonantly aligned… 

…And what does that mean? It means force will not get you through, only frequency will do that and that is why expeditions, such as Captain Scott’s Terra Nova expedition more than a century ago, vanish or are purposely eliminated, why records are scrubbed clean and why Antarctica is locked tight, because if you are not meant to pass, you will not! While you were plunged into endless wars, not every realm fell. Some stayed untouched, uncolonised, unbroken and these are the preserved civilisations, original humans who never consumed the lie, never fell under false light, never forgot who they are. They did not need to build back because they were never broken. They still hold pre-flood knowledge, organic technology, star communication systems and memory of the unified Earth before the partitions. Their architecture is alive, their power is natural, their food does not simply grow in the accepted traditional sense, it resonates into existence. 

There are exit gates, ancient ones encoded into the terrain and into you. These gates, like Regni Cuniculum III, the tunnel linking Extrema with Thoth for example, contain frequencies and will only fully open for those whose resonance matches the original blueprint, the one before the fracture, before the edits, before the prison grid in which you lived before your journey. You do not find the gate, you remember it—and once you do and fully accept it, it opens for you. 

Throughout history the initiated searched for it. The Gnostics called it the ‘Aeon Bridge,’ the Essenes called it the ‘Lightway,’ the Vedic texts named it the ‘Door of Davas,’ and even in ancient Egyptian law, the Duat was a secret passage between realms, guarded by memory and purity. The catch though is that you cannot bring the system’s weight with you, nor fear nor control, and absolutely not lies, only the truth. 

The map has been within you since birth. It is in your blood memory and in the geometries that call to you in your dreams that repeat and, in the songs and symbols you are drawn to but do not know why. Those are breadcrumbs from your higher self from the version of you that never fell. The gate is not just an escape, it is a return to who you were before the dome was turned into a globe, before the edit, before the Earth was fractured and once you pass through it you do not just leave the construct, you collapse it. They built the construct to contain you, to limit your senses, to trap your soul in a loop of forgetting. They used maps then globes, then screens then stars. They told you where you live, what you are, what the sky is, what truth is, but all along they were terrified that you would remember something far more dangerous to them and that is that you are the gate, the map, the signal, the flame. You were never meant to be a passenger, you were a navigator and that gut feeling you have carried since childhood that your world was not quite right, that something was being hidden, that there may be more out there, was not doubt. That was truth echoing through your blood and every cell, every fibre of your being. 

They did not trap youin that realm, they trapped your memory, but now it has awoken and as it returns and expands your consciousness, the barriers crumble, the sky cracks, the lies dissolve and the Earth expands beneath your feet because once you stop asking ‘where is the edge?’ and start asking ‘why was it sealed?’ the dome begins to open from the inside. 

So here is the truth… you were never trapped, you were the key, the map, the signal waiting to activate and now you are remembering—and that is how you smash the entire system. It was not just about land; it was not about oil and it was not even about power. They hid these other realms because they feared you would remember you originally came from one of them and also because if you knew that the Earth was infinite, with other lands, other oceans, other suns and other natural laws, you would stop obeying, you would stop fearing death, you would stop respecting borders, and you would stop serving systems built to enslave you. You would also start exploring inside through the cracks in the dome and worst of all for them, you would start finding each other. 

This is why they erased the real maps, why Antarctica is guarded like a portal and why they drown truth in pseudoscience, enticing you to accept outer space and alien incursion fantasies and spiritual sedation, because they know that if even one soul remembers where they truly came from, others will feel it eventually, through bio-resonance and the ‘one-hundredth monkey syndrome[2]’—and then the entire illusion will collapse. 

So… now you know there are other lands, other realms, another you and the only thing that was stopping you from finding them again was forgetting that they were real.”

At this point, Grandfather Supay, the presiding sage at the following morning’s engagement ceremony wiped a stray, emotional tear from his eye and slowly resumed his seat at the head of the top table once more. A small ripple of applause rang-out immediately amongst the sixty or so guests, composed overwhelmingly of Extremans, the only Earthlanders in fact, being Dobbo and Adam.

Then suddenly, spontaneously, Dobbo rose to his feet, dragging Adam upright alongside him and began clapping and cheering loudly. This was the signal seemingly for which, the entire room had been waiting. In seconds the crowded civic hall auditorium was drowned in tumultuous applause and noises of appreciation for Supay’s eloquent and extremely prescient soliloquy. 

“Fucking hell,”he shouted above the cacophony, into Adam’s ear. “What a speech. What a guy! Talk about eye-opening...!” 

And then once the hubbub had died somewhat, everyone was seated again and the inordinate din had subsided to a mere murmur of approval, he added, “Seriously, mate, that is the most amazing speech I have ever heard—and what’s more—it all makes perfect sense. Just a few weeks ago I would have dismissed that as a complete load of bollocks, but now my eyes have been opened to some of the truth already, that just puts the soddin’ tin lid on it all! Wow, just wow!”

“Amazing, wasn’t it?” was all that Adam could manage to respond with, his eyes overflowing with moisture as his own emotions spilled-over and the tingle down his spine began to abate.

Chapter 3

Friday 14th May 2021 – Summit of Global Leaders, 

Gstaad, Switzerland

Amidst the snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps, where serenity and grandeur blend seamlessly, the grand halls of the luxurious Alpina five-star spa hotel in Gstaad shimmered in the pale morning light. The air on this beautiful spring morning was crisp, tinged with a faint scent of pine and polished marble and there, in a luxury penthouse suite, in this haven of refinement and discretion, a gathering of huge significance was about to take place—a private summit between the heads of the World Economic Forum (WEF), the United Nations (UN), the World Bank, and the Bank of International Settlements (BIS). This meeting, meticulously orchestrated and cloaked in confidentiality, was intended to profoundly shape the future of all mankind and indeed the Earth itself—or so the four protagonists fervently hoped.

The carefully chosen venue is perched high in the midst of Europe’s greatest mountain range, its windows framing vistas of distant glaciers and verdant meadows below. A crystal chandelier cast a golden hue upon the high-ceilinged suite, where a table of meticulously polished walnut, circled by velvet-backed chairs, awaited its distinguished guests. Outside, the entire world was wholly unaware of the potential outcome of this iconic meeting, but within those walls, time itself seemed to pause, allowing for reflection, dialogue, and decisions of high consequence for humanity.

As dawn broke, a discreet motorcade glided along the boulevard, delivering the attendees to the hotel’s secluded, private entrance. At this time of day, the lobby was quiet, save for the subtle rustle of documents and the soft chatter of the staff manning the reception area. Security was unassuming but omnipresent—plainclothes agents circulated unobtrusively. The VIP guests were greeted not only by the hotel’s director but also by a select cadre of senior Swiss armed police, whose presence belied the nation’s perpetual role as a neutral country.

The attendees at this secret session were none other than Klaus Schwab, head of the WEF, Antonio Guterres, Secretary General of the UN, David Malpass, President of the World Bank and Nick Beams, head of the BIS.

There was to be no formal record of the meeting, no published minutes and no secretary present. In fact, secrecy was preserved by the purely verbal records, being privately recorded on each of the quartet’s personal Dictaphones, only.

It was Schwab, one of the chief architects of the great covid pandemic scam of 2020-22 himself, who opened the meeting, addressing the others in hushed yet formal tones, in his distinctive, native German accent… 

“Well, gentlemen…”,he began, whilst respectfully nodding towards the three others present. “…I think we all know exactly why we are here. We have all already been in discreet discussions with our seniormost partners in our respective organisations and we now have a broad mandate as to how to proceed with this ambitious, yet wholly necessary plan to secure the future of the Earth and equally importantly, the future of ourselves and our families and those of the other Elites of this realm.”

He took their soft murmurs of approval as the green light to continue and commenced broadly outlining the drastic plan—as dictated to him by the real rulers of this world. 

“So, gentlemen…”he continued, in carefully measured tones, “…here is the broad outline of what will become known, on a strictly need-to-know basis only, of course, as ‘Operation Floodgate…’”

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