The Unification Epicenter of True Lightworkers
"Flying an Anti-gravitational Platform"
(excerpts from my diary)
Judge for yourself based on my diary excerpts, obviously simplified and adapted for this book. Pictures and drawings will help you to evaluate my story. It is a hot summer day and the faraway expanses are drowned in a bluish-lilac haze. The gigantic blue dome of the sky with its pufs of clouds stretches over the fields and groves. I am flying about 300 meters above ground with a light elongated tray of a lake in the distant haze serving me as me as a reference point. Blue, intricate contours of treelines slowly recede behind, with fields spreading among them. That bluish-green one is an oat field, the whitish rectangle with a strange, rhythmic twinkling of the sun reflection is that of buckwheat. Straight ahead of me opens a field of alfalfa, with its familiar cobalt medium-green stolen from my oil paintings, while the green oceans of wheat to the right borrowed my deeper, chrome oxide shade. This enormous, multi-colored palette floats further and further behind me. Footpaths meander among the fields and coppices. They join the gravel roads, which it turn stretch further out to join the highway, still hidden in the haze. But, I know that if I flew on the right side of the lake, I would see it, the smooth, gray ribbon without a beginning or an end carrying the matchboxes of cars slowly crawling over its back to their destinies. Isometric, flat shadows of the cumulus clouds ride over the sunny countryside. They are deep-blue where they cover the threes and are of various shades of light blue where they strike the fields. Now I have entered the shadow of one such cloud and I accelerate. It is quite easy for me to do so and leave for the sunshine again. I lean slightly forward and feel the warm, taut wind coming for down below, from the sun drenched soil and vegetation. It does not blow from the side like when you are on the ground, but strangely from the surface up. I physically feel its thick, dense current carrying the strong smell of blooming buckwheat. Of course, this jet can easily lift even a large bird, an eagle may be, or a stork, or a crane, on their frozen, spread wings.
But I have no wings. I stand suspended in the air supported in my flight by a little flat, rectangular platform, which is slightly bigger than the seat of a chair. It has a pole with two handles onto which I hold and with whose help I navigate this device. Is this some science fiction? I wouldn't say so. The interrupted manuscript of this book had lied abandoned for two whole years because our generous, ancient nature had given me another something and again through my insect friends. As usual, it did it elegantly and inconspicuously, yet swiftly and convincingly. The thrill of discovery would not let go of me for two years, even though it seemed to me that I was mastering it at a break-neck speed. But it always happens this way. When your work is new and interesting, the time flies by at double its normal speed. The eye of the lake is already much closer. I can clearly see the highway beyond by now and the match boxes have grown wheels on them. The highway is about 8km away from the railway running parallel to it and if I look closer, I can see the power line poles on the light gray moat of the railway. It is time to turn some 20 degrees to the left. I can't be seen from the ground and not just because of the distance. I cast almost no shadow even in a very low flight. Yet, as I found out later, people sometimes see something where I am in the sky. I appear to them either as a light sphere, a disk, or something like a slanted cloud with sharp edges, which moves strangly according to them, not exactly the way a real cloud would. One person has observed a "flat, non-transparent square, about one hectare in size". Could it have been the optically enlarged little platform of my device? Most people see nothing at all though and I am quite pleased with it for the time being. I can't be too careful! Besides, I still haven't determined what my visibility or invisibility depended on. I must confess that I consciously avoid people when in flight and that I, for this very purpose, bypass all cities and towns and try to pass even the cross roads and footpaths at increased speed after making sure there is no one there.
I trust only my insect friends depicted in these pages on these excursions, which no doubt are a fiction to the reader but, which are already almost casual to me . The first practical use of my discovery has been entomological research. A way to get to and examine my secret places, to take a picture of them from above and to find new, still uninspected insect lands in need of protection and salvation. Alas, nature has established its own strict limitations on my work. Just as on a passenger plane, I could see but couldn't take photographs [taking pictures on planes was forbidden by law]. My camera shutter wouldn't close and both rolls of film I had with me, one in the camera and the other in my pocket, got light-struck. I didn't succeed in sketching the landscape either, because both my hands were almost always busy. I could only free one hand for a couple of seconds. Thus I could only draw from my memory. I managed to do that only immediately after landing. Though I am an artist, my visual memory is not all that great. I did not feel the same way in my flight as we do when we fly in our sleep. It was with flying in my sleep that I started this book a while ago. Real flying is not so much pleasure as it is work, sometimes very hard and dangerous at that. One has to stand, not hover, with both hands always busy. There is a borderline a few centimeters away separating "this" space from "that" on the outside. The border is invisible but quite treacherous. My contraption is still rather clumsy and resembles perhaps a hospital scale. But this is only the beginning! By the way, besides the camera, I have experiernced sometimes trouble with my watch and possibly also with the calendar. While descending onto a familiar glade, I would occasionally find it slightly "out of season", with about a two-week deviation but, I had nothing to check it against. Thus, it may be possible to fly not just in space but also, or so it seems, in time. I cannot make the latter claim with a 100% guarantee, except perhaps that in flight, particularly at its beginning, a watch runs eratically, now too slow and then too fast. But, the watch is at its accurate time and speed at the end of the excursions.
Nevertheless, this is one of the reasons why I stay away from people during my journeys. If time manipulation is involved alongside the manipulation of gravitation, I might, perhaps, accidentally disrupt cause-and-effect of relations and someone might get hurt. This is where my fears were coming from. Insects captured "there" disappear from my test tubes, boxes and other receptacles. They disappear mostly without a trace. Once I had a test tube crushed to tiny bits in my pocket, another time there was an oval hole in the tube glass with brown, as though chitin colored edges as you can see in the picture. I did feel a kind of burning or an electric shock inside my pocket on many occasions, perhaps at the moment of my prisoner's disappearance. I found the captured insect in my test tube only once, but it wasn't the adult ichneumon with white rings on its feelers, but its chrysalis, i.e. its earlier stage. It was alive and it moved its belly when touched but, much to my dismay, it has died a week later.
It is best to fly on clear summer days Flying is much more difficult when it rains and almost impossible in winter. Not because of the cold, since I could have adapted my device accordingly, but being an entomologist, winter trips are useless to me.
How and why did I make this discovery? I was examining the chitin shells of insects under my microscope in the summer of 1988 along with their pinnate antennae, the fish-scale microstructure of butterfly wings, iridescent colors, and other inventions of nature. I became interested in an amazingly rhythmical microstructure of one large insect detail. It was an extremely well-ordered composition, as though stamped out by factory equipment according to special blueprints and calculations. As I saw it, the intricate sponginess was clearly unnecessary either for the strength of the part, or for its decoration. I have never observed anything like this unusual micro-ornament either in nature, in technology, or in art. Because its structure is three-dimensional, I have been unable to capture it in a drawing so far, or a photograph. Why does an insect need it? Besides, other than in flight, this structure at the bottom of the wing case is always hidden from the eye. No one would ever see it properly. Was it perhaps the wave emitter using "my" multiple cavity structures effect? That truly lucky summer, there were very many insects of this species and I would capture them at night. I was not able to observe these insects neither before, nor later.
I placed the small, concave chitin plate on the microscope stage in order to again examine its strangely star-shaped cells under strong magnification. I again admired this masterpiece jewelwork of nature. I was about to place a second identical plate with the same unusual cell structure on its underside almost purposelesly on top of the first one. But then!
The little plate came loose from my tweezers, hung suspended above the other plate on the microscope stage for a few seconds, then turned a few degrees clockwise and slid to the right, then turned counterclockwise and swung and only then it abruptly fell on the desk.
You can imagine what I felt at that moment. When I came to my senses, I tied a few panels together with a wire and it wasn't an easy thing to do. I have had succeeded only when I positioned them vertically. What I got was a multi-layered chitin block and I placed it on the desk. Even a relatively large object, such as a thumbtack, would not fall on it. Something pushed it up and aside. When I attached the tack on top of the "block", I witnessed incredible, impossible things. The tack would dissapear from sight for a few moments. That was when I have realized that this was no "beacon," but something entirely different.
And I became again so excited that all the objects around me became foggy and shaky. I managed to pull myself together with huge effort in a couple of hours and I continued working.
This is how it all started. Of course, much still remains to be understood, verified, and tested. I will certainly tell my readers about the finer details of my machine, about its propulsion principles, about distances, heights, speeds, equipment and all the rest but, in my next book.
I have conducted my first, rather unsuccessful and highly dangerous flight on the night of March 17, 1990. I didn't have the patience to wait untill the warm season and I neglected to go to a deserted area. I already knew that night was the most dangerous time for this kind of work and I had a bad luck from the very start. The panel blocks in the right side of the lifting platform got repetitively stuck. I should have fixed the problem properly and immediately, yet I neglected to do so in my impatience. I took off right in the middle of the Agricultural Academy campus, erroneously assuming that everyone would be asleep at 1 after midnight and that nobody would see me. The lift-off went well but, I became dizzy in a few seconds time, while the lit windows of the campus buildings sank beneath me. I should have landed right then yet, I made the mistake of staying airborne. A powerful force snatched away my control over my movement and weight and it dragged me in the direction of the city.
I crossed the second circle of the nine-story buildings in the city's residential area (they are laid out in two huge circles with five-story buildings, including ours, inside them) drawn by this unexpected and uncontrollable power and then I crossed a snow-covered, narrow field and the Academy City highway. The dark immensity of Novosibirsk was closing in upon me and it was closing in fast. I was already near a bunch of tall factory smoke stacks, many of which belched thick smoke into the cold night sky. The graveyard shift was on. I had to do something and do it quickly. I got on top of the situation only with great effort. I finally managed to perform an emergency adjustment of the panel blocks and my horizontal movement slowed down, but I became quite sick now. I succeed in stopping the horizontal movement only at my fourth attempt, at which point my platform hung over the city's industrial district Zatulinka. The sinister smoke stacks fumed silently right beneath me. I took a short rest, if one can call a few minutes of hanging over a lighted factory fence a rest and I glided back after I made sure that the "evil power" has passed. I did not fly straight back in the direction of our Agricultural Academy campus though, but to the right of it, toward the airport. I did this to foul the trail, in case someone had seen me. I turned abruptly home only when I was over dark, deserted night fields about halfway to the airport, where I was sure that there was clearly no one around. I naturally couldn't get out of bed the next day. The news on TV and in the newspapers was more than alarming. Headlines, such as "UFO over Zatulinka" and "Aliens again?" meant that my flight had been detected. But how! Some perceived the "phenomenon" as glowing spheres or disks, many actually saw not one sphere but two! Others claimed that they had seen a "real saucer" with windows and rays of light. I am not discounting the possibility that some Zatulino residents saw something else entirely, rather than my near-emergency evolutions, somehing that had nothing to do with me. Besides that, March of 1990 was particularly rich in UFO sightings in Siberia, near Nalchik. There was also some heavy UFO trafic in Belgium where, according to Pravda, an engineer Marcel Alferlane took a two-minute film of the flight of a huge triangular craft on March 31. According to Belgian scientists, it was a "material object with a capacity no civilization could currently create." Is it really so? As for me, I would suggest that the gravitational filter platforms (or as I call them, panel blocks) of these machines were in fact small, triangular and made here on Earth but, with more sophistication than my half-wooden contraption. I also wanted to make my platform triangular, because it would be much safer and efficient that way, but I chose a rectangular design because it is easier to fold and once folded, it may resemble a suitcase, or a painter's case and it can be therefore disguised and not arouse any suspicions. I have naturally chosen a painter's case.
I had nothing to do with the sightings in Nalchik or Belgium. Besides, as it appears, I am very impractical in the use of my discovery. I fly only to my entomological preserves. These are far more important to me than any technological finds. I have eleven such preserves at the moment, eight in Omsk region, one in Voronezh region and one near Novosibirsk. There used to be six of them in Novosibirsk region, all of them created, or rather saved by me and my family for the time being, but they don't like them here. Neither the Agricultural Academy (still more obsessed with "chemistry" than with anything else), nor the Environmental Protection Committee were willing to help me preserve these little islands from evil, ignorant people.
Therefore, I am continuing my journey westward under the magnificent, fluffy noon clouds, with the blue shadows of the clouds, the intricately shaped coppices and the multicolored patches of fields floating back below me.
The speed of my flight is quite high but, there is no wind in my ears. The platform's force field has "carved out" an upward-diverging, invisible column from space, which cuts the platform off the earth's gravitational pull. Yet, it leaves me and the air inside the column intact. I think that it parts space in flight and then closes it behind me. This must be the reason for my invisibility, or the distorted visibility of the device and its "rider", as was the case with my flight over Novosibirsk's Zatulinka suburb.
The protection from gravity is regulated albeit not entirely. When I move my head forward, I can already feel the turbulence of the wind that clearly smells either of sweet clover, of buckwheat, or of the colored, wild weeds of Siberian meadows.
I leave Isilkul with its huge grain elevator to my right and begin to gradually descend over the highway, making sure that I am invisible to the drivers, passengers and the people working in the fields. My platform and I cast no shadow (although the shadow occasionally appears). I see three kids by the treeline of a forest and I descent dropping my speed and fly right by them. They don't react to me, which means that everything is fine. Neither I, nor my shadow are visible and they don't hear me either. The propulsion principle of my device makes my platform completely quiet, because there is practically no air friction. My journey has been a long one, at least forty minutes from Novosibirsk. My hands are tired because I can't take them off from the controls and so are my legs and body. I have to stand up straight, tied to the vertical pole with a belt. Even though I could travel faster, I am still afraid to do so considering how small and fragile is my hand-made machine.
I rise up again and forward and I soon see the familiar landmark, a road intersection with a passenger terminal on the right side of the highway. Another five kilometers and I finally see the orange posts of the preserve fence. The preserve, come to think of it, is twenty years old now. How many times have I saved this child of mine from trouble and bureaucrats, from chemical laden aircraft, from fires and many other evils. And the "Land of Insects" is still alive and well!
I can already see the thicket of carrot weed and make out the light heads of their flowers resembling azure balls, while descending and braking. This I achieve by cross-shifting the filter blinds under the platform's board. The carrot weed is covered with insects of course and an incredible joy overcomes my fatigue, for it was I, who has saved this patch on Earth, as small as it is, less than seven hectares [18 acres]. No one has driven here, no one has cut the grass or tended cattle for twenty years here and the soil has risen in places to fourteen centimeters high. Not only did several locally extinct species of insects return here but, also such weeds as feather grass of rare variety returned along with the purple Scorzonera, whose large flowers smell of chocolate in the morning. I can smell the thick odor of cuckoo flower and only this Middle Glade smells like that. It is right behind the fence of the preserve and fills me once again with the joyful anticipation of another encounter with the "World of Insects". Here they are. I can see them very well even from ten meters above the ground, the wide umbrellas and azure balls of Angelica and carrot plants. Dark orange butterflies sitting on them in groups and heavy hornets bow the white and yellow inflorescences of Lady's Bedstraws and ginger. Blue damselflies with trembling wide wings interwoven by a fine network of veins hover next to my head. I slow down even more and all of a sudden I see my shadow flash below me. Hitherto invisible, it has finally appeared and now it slowly glides along weeds and bushes. But I am already safe. there is not a soul around and the highway some three hundred meters north of the preserve is now empty. I can land. The stems of the tallest weeds rustle against the bottom of my "podium", my platform with the panel blocks.
But, before setting it down on top of a little bump, I again spread the blinds with my control handle in a fit of joy and rise vertically up, high into the sky. The landscape below quickly shrinks and the horizon begins to curve on all sides in a huge dip opening up the sight of railroad that runs two kilometers on the left with the village on the right of it twinkling with its light slate roofs. Further on the right lies Roslavka, the central estate of the Lesnoy State Farm, which already looks like a small city. Cow farms of the Lesnoy's Komsomolsk branch surrounded by a yellow ring of straw and dry, foot-worn manure are to the left of the railroad. I can recognize a few small houses and the neat white cube of the Yunino railroad terminal some 6km away in the west, where the smooth curve of the railroad disappears (this is somewhat confusing, because the railway is actually straight as an arrow). Beyond Yunino spread the limitless expanses of Kazakhstan, drowning in the hot, bluish haze of this hot summer day. Finally, right below me, lies my Isilkulia. The land of my youth looks very different from how it appears on maps and plans with their inscriptions and signs. It is vast, limitless, alive. It is interspersed with dark, intricate islands of woods, cloudy shadows and bright clear eyes of the lakes. The huge disk of the earth with all this beneath me appears more and more concave for some reason and I still haven't found out the reason for this already familiar illusion. I rise still higher and the rare, white cloud masses sink lower and lower and the sky above turns much darker blue. The fields protruding between the clouds are already covered with the thickening blue haze and they are more and more difficult to distinguish. Too bad I can't take my four-year-old grandson Andrei with me. The platform could easily lift us both but, one can't be too careful.
Goodness, what am I doing? I have cast a shadow back on the Glade, didn't I? This means that I can be seen by thousands, as on that memorable night in March. It is daytime now and I may again appear as a disk, square, or even worse, as my own person. And over there, there is also a cargo plane approaching me, still silent but, quickly growing in size. I can already see the cold shimmer off its body and the flashing of its unnaturally red warning light. Down, quick! I brake abruptly and make a turn. The sun is at my back and my shadow should be across from me, impressed on top of the gigantic, convex wall of a white cloud. But there is no shadow. Only the rainbow glory of the iridescent bright ring familiar to all pilots has brushed the cloud ahead of me. I sigh with relief, because this means that nobody saw either me, or my "double" in the guise of a triangle, square, or a "common" saucer. A thought occurs to me (I must say that despite the desperate technical and physical inconvenience, imagination works much better and faster in a "falling" flight): "What if I am not the only one out of the five billion people to have made my discovery? What if flying devices based on the same principle, both home-made and professional, have long been constructed and tested?"
But all screening platforms have the same quality. They become visible to other people sometimes. The pilots themselves are "transformed" and they are observed as "humanoids" in silver suites, either short and green, or flat as if made of cardboard (Voronezh, 1989) etc. Thus, it may very well be that these are not alien UFO crewmen, but only people who appear "temporarily deformed" to the outside observers. It may very well be that they are earthly pilots and builders of little platforms, such as mine, who have made their inventions reliable. My advice to those, who in their study of insects come across the same phenomenon and begin making and testing a "gravitoplane" (by the way, I am convinced that one can't make the discovery without insects) is this: "Fly only on fine summer days. Avoid working in thunderstorms or rain. Do not operate the platform too far or too high. Do not take anything with you from the landing area. Make all assembly units as strong as possible and avoid testing of the device in the vicinity of any power lines, towns (let alone cities), transport, or people." The best site for testing is a distant forest glade, as far away from human habitation as possible. Otherwise you may cause a phenomenon known as poltergeist in the radius of a few dozen meters with "unexplained" movements of household objects, switching on and off of household electric appliances and even causing fires. I myself have no explanation for all this, but it seems that these phenomena are the consequence of temporal disruptions, a complicated and treacherous activity. Not a single, even tiniest fragment or particle should be dropped either during the flight, or in the landing area. Let us remember the Dalnegorsk phenomenon of January 29, 1986, apparently a tragic one for the inventors, when the entire device was blown apart and scattered over a vast area. Only small shreds of filter cells were found, impossible to analyze chemically (as it should be!). Remember, I wrote that insects taken from "there" and moved "over here" disappeared from their test tubes with hole formed in the tubes, if they remained intact at all. It turns out that these holes resemble simmilar holes in windows plate glass. The latter sometimes appear in residential and office buildings, occasionally in "bursts" in the windows of several rooms and floors. A hole is 3-5 mm on the outside, widening in a cone to he inside, with exit diameter of 6-15 mm. Some holes are melted or colored brown on edges, just as it happened in the case of my insect in my test tube. It seems that this type of poltergeist isn't caused, as I used to believe, by short-lived microplasmoids of tiny ball lightning type, but by particles and specks carelessly dropped while testing a device similar to mine. The photographs of window holes on these pages are documentary and made by me at the scientific center of the Agricultural Academy near Novosibirsk. I can show them to anyone who wants to see them. These holes appeared during 1975-1990, but none of them, except perhaps the very last one, are related to my flights.
I am certain that part of UFO descriptions are actually those of platforms, panel blocks and other large parts of devices deliberately or accidentally taken out of the active field by their designers and makers. These fragments are capable of causing much trouble to others, or at best, to generate a series of improbable tales and stories in papers and magazines, often accompanied by "scientific" commentaries...
Why am I not disclosing the particulars of my discovery at this time? Firstly, because one needs time and energy for proving the truth. I have neither. I know how daunting is this task from my own bitter experience of trying to get recognition for my previous discoveries, including such an obvious one as the Cavity Structures Effect of whose reality you, my readers, I am sure, are by now convinced. This was the result of my protracted, painstaking efforts to get the CSE scientifically recognized. "Any further correspondence with you on the subject of your patent application is counterproductive." I know personally some of the High Priests of Science and I am certain that were I ever to get an audience with one such person (which is now practically impossible), were I ever to open my painter's case, attach its pole to it and turn the handles and soar to the ceiling, he wouldn't be a bit impressed, or worse still, he would order the trickster out of the office. I look forward to times when young people will replace these "priests".
The second reason for my "non-disclosure" is more objective. I have found these antigravitational structures only in one species of Siberian insects. I dare not even naming the class to which this insect belongs, because it seems to be on the verge of extinction and the population surge, which I had registered back then, was possibly local and final. Now, what would be the guarantee that dishonest people, half competent in biology, would not rush out to ravines, meadows and forests to catch perhaps the very last samples of this miracle of nature, if I were to name the genus and the species? What are the guarantees that they would not plough up hundreds of glades and cut down dozens of forests to get to this potentially lucrative prey? Therefore, let all I have related in this chapter and in the addendum remain science fiction. May nature herself never reveal this secret to them. It would take a lot of effort and they would never be able to get it by force as there are still several million insect species living on the planet. Spend at least an hour on the morphological study of each of them, then calculate the odds of encountering the unusual and I will sincerely wish you diligence and a very long life, for even if you took no days off, working eight hours a day, you would need a thousand years of life. I hope I will be understood and forgiven by those of my readers who wanted immediate information about my discovery not for selfish ends, but simply out of curiosity. Indeed, what would you do in my place if you were to act in the best interests of The Living Nature? Besides, I can see that similar inventions have been made by other people who are also in no rush to take their discoveries to bureaucrats' offices, who prefer to fly across night skies in the guise of strange disks, triangles, or squares which suprise eyewitnesses with their iridescent flickering...
... I orient myself falling down, or rather sinking and look around to see, if there is anyone around. I brake abruptly about forty meters from the ground and land safely where I always do, on a tiny glade in the Big Forest of the preserve. You won't find it on a map and if you get there, you won't be able to find it either. Don't judge me for the fact that the branches of several aspens there are cut or sliced "by lightning". The strictly vertical take-off and landing are very difficult and the initial trajectory is for the most part slanted, particularly at take-off, when the platform is for some reason carried off away from the sun and sometimes the other way around...
I loosen the screws on the control pole, then shorten it like a telescoping antenna of a portable radio and remove it from the platform. I fold the platform in half. Now it looks like a painter's case, if only a bit thicker. I put the case, some food and a few tools for repairing of the fence into my backpack and make my way for the Middle Glade among the aspens and the short dog-rose bushes. I see a good omen even before leaving the forest, a family of fire-red toadstools that have lined up on the forest bedding in a wide curve, or, as it used to be called in our folklore, a "witch's ring". Why "witch's"? And in general: "Why does one have to break, knock off and trample this beautiful mushroom of Siberian forests?" [Vandalism] I often asked mushroom-pickers why they do it. The answer was, "because it's inedible!" But turf, clay, twigs, tree stumps and stones are inedible too. If there were rocks lying in the forest instead of mushrooms, no one would be knocking them off. It seems that inedible mushrooms are knocked off because they are alive. Ignorant people trample and kick them only to kill them! What is this then? Do people really have it in their blood to kill a mushroom or to crush a bug and to shoot a bird, a hare, or a bison? And is this not where boorishness, sadism, pogroms and wars originate? One really does not want to believe it. I put myself in the shoes of an alien. I come to Earth to visit humans and see them knock off mushrooms, crush insects and shoot birds and each other. What would I do? I would immediately turn my spacecraft around and go back. I wouldn't return for at least 500 earth years. What would you do, my reader, if you were an alien? It's a good thing that at least this little family of toadstools is hidden from evil eyes and cruel feet. It gives me joy to see its special life every summer, to see its cinnabar-red, moist caps with large, whitish scales underneath. But here is the glade. I walk on it as usual, with my heart sinking with a constant longing for this dear, faraway nature of Isilkul, with fear that some "master" might decide to plough it up and with joy that it is still unploughed, uncut, and untrampled. It really means nothing that I have a folded, incapacitated platform with gravitational, micro-cellular filter blocks in my backpack, along with the folded pole and the field regulators and the belt, with which I fasten myself to the pole. What difference does it make that I moved about fifty years ahead of the contemporary science with my discovery? People are eventually and certainly going to master this and many other mysteries of matter, space, gravitation and time. But no supercivilization on any planet of any supergalaxy is going to re-create this very glade with its complex, fragile, trembling life, with its lady's bedstraws, meadow sweets and feather grass. Where else, in what corner of the universe, are you going to find a match for this lilac-blue bell flower with two flower flies performing their love dance in its semi-transparent entrails? On what other planet would a nearly tame blue butterfly land on your outstretched hand to have a taste of something salty, a sausage, or cheese, or a pickle? Or else, just to walk up and down your palm, opening and closing its gray wings on whose backside there is a fine ornament of round eyes?
... It hasn't been too long since we, humans, started flying the first air balloons and later airplanes and still later the powerful rockets that we send to other heavenly bodies. What's next? Next we are going to fly to other stars at a speed close to that of light. But, even the closest galaxy would still be out of reach. Yet the humankind, if it ever earns the name of intelligent, will solve many riddles of the universe and will then overcome this hurdle too. Then any worlds in the universe will become accessible, close even if they are trillions of light years away. It'll happen, for it is all a matter of reason, science and technology. Only this glade may disappear if I, and there is no one else to rely on, am not going to preserve it for my close and distant descendants.
So, what is more valuable to humanity at this time? Is it the insect preserve, or is it the home-made device capable of developing the vertical pull of at least 100 kg and the horizontal speed of 30-40 km/min? I am asking you, my reader. But think hard before you give a serious, responsible answer.
Look at these pictures. This is my rather simple device in assembly. A flexible cable inside the steering column trasmits the movement from the left handle to the gravitational louvers. I lift off or land by joining or parting these "wing cases". /p>
Once I lost the left handle in a free-falling descent and would have been in a better world if the platform hadn't dug out a rather deep well in the tillage, first a vertical one, then horizontal, facing away from the sun. Thus I not only survived, but I also felt almost no impact, just darkness. I extracted myself and my fairly badly damaged device from this well, although not without effort, because the "well" had no dirt piles! I had to use all my ingenuity to disguise it. If it were seen from the road, it would have caused much speculation and may even have led some over-zealous investigators to the culprit.
Similar wells, also with the side-tunnel and without dirt piles, were suddenly formed on October 24, 1989 in the fields of Khvorostyansk District of Samara Region. Komsomolskaya Pravda [magazine] described it in detail on December 6. of the same year and it seems that I am not alone. I am quite likely reinventing the wheel ("inventing a bicycle"). Well, actually the top part of my device looks very much like one. The right handle is used for horizontal motion, also achieved via a cable, regulating the incline of both groups of the "wing case" blinds. I never fly faster than 25 km/min and I prefer to go ten times slower. I don't know whether I have persuaded you, my reader, that similar devices will soon be available to practically everyone, while the living nature, without which humans cannot survive, won't be available to anyone if we don't save it and preserve it.
But I don't want to seem to be entirely greedy and I will give researchers another invention of nature. It is also related to movement and gravitation. Physicists say that a reactionless motor is impossible. In other words, a device completely isolated from the environment won't fly or drive. A car won't move without wheels in contact with the road, a plane won't fly with a covered propeller and neither will a rocket fly with plugged nozzles. Baron Münchhausen, who has managed to pull himself up by the hair from a mire was the only exception.
This happened near Novosibirsk in 1981, when we were studying the entomo-fauna of alfalfa, its pollinators and pests. I was "mowing" alfalfa with an insect net wading through the field and collecting the contents of the net, the insects, leaves and flowers, into a glass jar. Such is the cruel method of studying the insect make-up of the fields, because none better has been invented as yet. Alas, such was the work, with which I earned my living at the Institute of Agricultural Chemistry. I was about to throw a piece of ethered cotton wool into the jar and then cap it, when a light little cocoon jumped up at me.
It was oval-shaped, rather dense and non-transparent. One of the little "prisoners" in the jar must have pushed it. Cocoons can't jump on their own! But the cocoon proved me wrong. It jumped up one more time, hit the glass wall and fell down. I took it out and put it into a separate test tube. I looked at it through a binocular microscope at home and I have found nothing special about it. It was a cocoon like any other, about 3 mm long and 1.5 mm wide. Its walls felt strong to the touch as they should. But the cocoon energetically jumped when lit or warmed by the sun but, it was quiet in the dark. It could jump 30mm lengthwise and, what I found even more remarkable, up to 50mm high. As far as I could tell, it flew smoothly, almost without tumbling. No doubt, the larva of the insect was responsible for the movement. But it was impossible to see how it did it.
...Jumping ahead, I can tell you that the cocoon finally produced a male insect of the ichneumon family, the Batiplectes anurus species. It is beneficial for agriculture because its larvae parasitize the alfalfa weevil.
The flying cocoon will jump untill it has finally landed in a cool place, for example a crack in the ground. It must have found itself in my net during its strange flying journey, at the moment of its jump. It all resembled poltergeist unexplained "jumps" of household objects, many times described in papers. I have placed the cocoon on glass to look at it from below. Could it be that the larva draws in its bottom and then abruptly releases it? Nothing of the kind. There were no dents at any point and the cocoon jumped no matter which way I rolled it. It was also remarkable that it jumped sideways from the horizontal, smooth and slippery glass pane. I have measured its trajectories. They were up to 35 mm long and up to 50 mm high. This means that the cocoon lifted itself up to a height 30 times its own width! Shall I leave this capsule without support? But how? With a piece of loose cotton wool! I have fluffed up a piece of cotton wool and I have placed the cocoon on this cotton cloud. I have brought it out into the sun and impatiently waited. If the cocoon's inhabitant jumps by hitting the lower wall, making the cocoon to bounce off its support, it should not work this time. The impact should be absorbed by the thin fibers of the cotton. Theoretically, the cocoon shouldn't even move. But no, it takes off from its motionless pad, up and aside, as it did before. I measure its broad jump at 42 mm, about as good as as before. The insect must have been hitting not the bottom, but the top part of the cocoon at any rate. It must have been doing something that caused the capsule to move. Frankly speaking, it is as I write these notes that I feel agitation. I found nothing supernatural in the jumps of my tiny prisoner back in 1981. This was because I knew that, according to physics, there can be no reactionless motors. Otherwise I would have bred a couple of hundred of those insects. Thankfully, they are quite common and I would have studied the phenomenon thoroughly. Now, let us fantasize a little: "What if the batiplectes wanted to leave the Earth? An adult, winged insect would have no luck because our atmosphere is quite rarefied up the top and wings are no match for it. A larva in a cocoon is an entirely different matter. It could in theory, after lifting its capsule 5 cm in a jump, take it up even further while still in the air and then again and again. If the cocoon were airtight, I mean if the pilot had sufficient air reserve for breathing, the device would be able to leave the atmosphere and would have no obstacles to a limitless build-up of speed. Such is the alluring, incredible value of reactionless motors, declared, alas, a product of empty fantasy. But even if you are no physicist, you still have a hard time imagining what a tiny larva does in there if its vessel soars 5 cm high. It simply can't be ...and yet it jumps!
Physicists say that this is "beyond science" as it "contradicts the laws of nature." The only problem is that the Batiplectes anurus doesn't know it. The physicists' ban must also have been unknown to the leading, experienced biologists who honestly wrote the following on page 26 of the academic Register of Insects of European USSR (vol. III, pt. 3): "The cocoon jumps up as a result of abrupt movements of the larva inside the cocoon." Shortly, it is a working and tested example of a safe, reactionless drive. I am giving it to you, to my reader. Invent, design and build but, hurry! Massive chemical warfare has been waged against the alfalfa pest, the snout beetle (phitonomus). Humanity may actually win it. Yet, the price may be too great. Our planet's fauna may also lose the ichneumon Batiplectes anurus as it parasitizes only this kind of weevil and cannot survive without it. It will dissapear with the destruction of the Phitonomus varnabilis beetle. Meanwhile, any proposals on using biological weapons against the pest, such as our very ichneumon and other insect predators are completely rejected by the bosses of Russian agriculture and agricultural science. I have been fighting them on this for decades, but like Don Quixote, so far with little success.
However, one could understand those in charge too. How can one stop the expensive chemical factories? And why do agrarian scientists care about some reactionless drive that doesn't allow alfalfa to be treated with a poison? Hurry up, biologists, engineers, physicists! For if Chemistry wins, this mystery along with a host of other mysteries related to it will leave people for ever. Without insects, people won't invent it themselves. Please trust me, an entomologist with 60 years of experience. There is a drawing at the end of my first book, "A Million Riddles", published in Novosibirsk in 1968, which I have reproduced here again. A drawing of a man flying over Novosibirsk's Academic City. He is flying a device based on a huge pair of insect wings. I dreamed of inventing such a machine at the time. Strangely, the dream came true precisely because of my friendship with insects yet, not by blindly copying the most noticeable parts, the wings that only make me smile now but, through careful study of living nature. Nothing would have been possible without my six-legged friends. No one would be able to do without them either. Thus safeguard their world, the ancient, wonderful world of insect, for it is an infinite, unique treasure of nature's mysteries! I beg you all, take care of it!
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