CT Progression Synopsis

You received in the mail an envelop directed to you with no returning address – you can feel a plastic card inside the envelope. When you inspect the content you find wrapped inside the letter what appears to be a blue plastic keycard, on one side it has a logo of the world; and on the other side, underneath the swipe-magnet is another logo revealing an obvious fingerprint in its center. And below, written in small letters is – if found, please call customer service. But there is no number to call. The letter reads:

18/08/201

My Dear and Unfortunate Successor:

It is with regret that I imagine you, whoever you are. The regret is partly for myself – because I will surely be at least in trouble, or perhaps worse, if this encryption is in your hands. But my regret is also for you, my yet-unknown friend, because only by someone who needs such revelations will this letter someday be read. If you are not my successor in some other sense you will soon be my heir – and I feel sorrow at bequeathing to another human being my own, perhaps unbelievable, experience of evil.

However, to summarize the purpose of this revelation: What you are about to learn will undue what you know of the world today. I implore you to consider what I must put down here with a scientific mind – because your very life is in grave danger. There is great evil coming. What you know of history is a fabricated lie. The truth is beyond the average men’s understanding. The truth is incomprehensible, yet the evidence is, colossal. There is no God. There is neither hell nor devil. There is only good and evil. They’ve been here since the beginning, our creators, our guardians, our tormentors all the same beings from beyond the heavens. Even now you won’t understand. You will probably go mad as you inquire deeper into my world. But like you, I used to believe. Our unalienable rights never existed. From the beginning we were born into servitude and we continue to be unknowingly. Take comfort to know you are not the only illumined, there are others, the privileged, the few, the selected out of billions. Seek them, join them, and together fight the tyrant.

Be forewarned, the eye is watching the eye already sits on the pyramid; the 13 entered its portal as men and came forth as gods. The age of Brahma is coming. The bug, Shiva, has already been loose upon the world – you must go to where the goblins wait, like puppets in suitcases, for the disruption of the world, which will start the engineered evolution of Manu. You have 16 hours to decide. It’s your call.

Yours truly, the Historian.

Congratulations LSunday for figuring out Part One of the encrypted letter. The letter sent by the Historian contained basic information about the plot of Conspiracy Theory and a hidden message to contact the Historian. I don’t know how obvious this was for anyone to figure out, but what letters have an unfinished date and a key-card that says ‘if found call customer service’ but provides no number. By placing all the numbers in sequence you will see a full telephone digit that includes the Hawaiian area code, 808. When you call the number you reach a recorded message left for you by the historian. In this message he greets you with the Hawaiian greeting, and quickly informed you of your next step, but before he tells you where to go, he apologizes for placing you in danger. He also said he won’t be meeting you personally but that you will meet the others – the others being other people he has contacted with the same letter.

Where we are now:
The Historian sent you to Denver’s International Airport, to meet with an airport security officer wearing on his uniform sleeve the same logo of the world found on your key-card. You were told to show the key-card to the security officer and ask him where you can catch the train. But unexpectedly, instead of the security guard taking you to a train; he takes you to an interrogation room within DIACT1 – although you are yet unaware of where exactly you are, you are smart enough to figure out that you was sent into a trap.