Note below in the flying
gravity making, time wormhole creating platform made from gravity
making insect skeleton material - that the inventor SPECIFICALLY
describes the symmetry of the biologic gravity making material
as "strangely star-shaped
more confirmation that - "self-similarity
CREATES gravity" ?..
Visualize the PENT star shaped cascade:
This excerpt from Grebennikov is courtesy of : http://www.keelynet.com/greb/greb.htm
- which we recommend for added intro and personal detail about
("Secret of the Stradivarius" -- we
add one more prelude to mr G here: - WE thought the reason the
Stradivarius violin rings the blood - shades of "RED VIOLIN"
- was because of the paramagnetic piezoelectric sacred gem stone
sand - in the paint- ringing the capacitance - bloody DNA - wave
with phonon- HOWEVER- Michael Heleus- writes: Dan, I read the
Grebennikov story, and have seen how his findings can apply to
various situations, including the possible secret of the Stradivarius
violins. As found by Nagyvary, their wood was soaked in seawater
until the lignin was partly replaced by silica and salts, making
the wood partly crystal, then coated with insect-chitin-containing
varnish that I think would emit Grebennikov/DeBroglie gravity-wave
partials as the violin was played, giving it the surpassing consciousness-altering
hyperdimensional resonance for which the Strad is known.,
Flight - Chapter V of V. S.
Grebennikov's My World
CHAPTER V. FLIGHT
A quiet evening in the steppe. The sun's red disk
has already touched the faraway, misty horizon. It is too late
to get back home-I've stayed too long here with my insects and
am preparing to spend the night in the field. Thank goodness
I still have water in the flask and some mosquito repellent-one
needs it here, what with hosts of gnats on the steep shore of
this salty lake.
I am in the steppes, in Kamyshlovo
valley. It used to be a mighty tributary of the Irtysh, but the
ploughing of the steppes and deforestation turned the river into
a deep, broad gully with a string of salty lakes, like this one.
There is no wind. Pods of ducks gleam over the evening lake,
sandpipers are also heard in the distance.
The high, pearl-colored sky stretches
over the calming world of the steppe. How good it is to be out
here, in the open country!
I settle for the night on the very
edge of the steep, on a grassy glade. I spread out my coat, put
my backpack under the head, and before lying down, collect a
few dry cakes of cow manure, and light them up. The romantic,
unforgettable smell of bluish smoke slowly spreads across the
dozing steppe. I lie down on my simple bed, stretch my tired
legs and anticipate yet another wonderful night in the country.
The blue smoke quietly takes me to
the Land of Fairy Tales; sleep comes fast. I become very small,
the size of an ant, then enormous, like the sky, and am about
to fall asleep. But why is it that today these "pre-sleep
transformations" of my bodily dimensions are somewhat unusual,
too strong? A new sensation has mixed in-a sensation of falling,
as though the high cliff has been snatched away from under my
body, and I am falling into an unknown, terrible abyss!
Suddenly I see flashes. I open my eyes,
but they don't go away-they are dancing on the pearl-and-sliver
evening sky and on the grass. I get a strong, metallic taste
in my mouth, as though I pressed my tongue to the contact plates
of a small electric battery. My ears start ringing, I distinctly
hear the double beats of my own heart.
How can one sleep when such things
are going on!
I sit up and try to drive away these
unpleasant sensations, but nothing comes out of my efforts. The
only result is that the flashes are no longer wide and blurred
but sharp and clear, like sparks or perhaps small chains; they
make it hard to look around. Then I remember: I had very similar
sensations a few years ago in Lesochek, or to be more precise,
in the Enchanted Grove [the author is referring to localities
of an entomological preserve in Omsk Region].
I have to get up and walk around the lakeshore.
Does it feel like this everywhere around here? No: here, a meter
from the edge, I feel a clear effect of "something",
while ten meters further into the steppe the effect clearly disappears.
It becomes a bit frightening: I am
alone in the deserted steppe, by the "Enchanted Lake".
I should quickly pack up and clear out. But my curiosity takes
over: what is this, really? Could it be that the smell of lake
water and slime is doing this to me? I go down, under the steep
and sit down by the water. The thick, sweetish smell of sapropel-rotted
remains of algae-is enveloping me like in a mud spa. I sit there
for five, ten minutes-no unpleasant sensations. It would be suitable
to sleep here, if it weren't so wet.
I climb the steppe-same old story!
My head is spinning, I again get that "galvanic", sour
taste in the mouth and feel as though my weight is changing-I
am at one moment incredibly light, and unbearably heavy at the
next. I see flashes in my eyes. If it was indeed a "bad
spot", some nasty anomaly, then there would be no grass
here, and large bees would not be nesting in the loamy steppe.
Meanwhile, their nests are all over it-in fact,
I was trying to make my bed right above their underground "bee
city" in whose depths there is of course a multitude of
tunnels, chambers, lots of larvae, cocoons-all of them alive
and healthy. I understood nothing that time.
I got up with a headache even before
sunrise and, tired, hobbled off toward the road to get a hitch
That summer I visited the "Enchanted
Lake" four more times, at various times of day, and under
various weather conditions. By the end of the summer my bees
got incredibly busy stuffing their holes with flower pollen-in
a word, they were feeling great. Which I wasn't: a meter
from the edge of the steppe, above their nests, I again had a
set of most unpleasant sensations. Five meters away, I had none...
And there was the same old bewilderment: why, why do these bees
feel so good here that the entire steppe is dappled with their
holes like Swiss cheese, and in places, almost like a sponge?
The solution came many years later,
when the bee city in Kamyshlovo valley died: the tillage came
to the very edge which consequently fell off. Now instead of
grass and bee holes, there is nothing there but an atrocious
heap of mud.
I only had a handful of old clay lumps-fragments
of those nests, with multiple chamber cells. The cells were side
by side and reminded of small thimbles, or little jugs with narrowing
I already knew that these bees were
of the quadruple ring species-that was the number of light rings
on their elongated bellies. On my desk, packed with equipment,
ant- and grasshopper-houses, bottles with chemicals, and other
stuff, I had a wide receptacle filled with these spongy clay
lumps. I was about to pick something up and moved my hand over
these porous fragments.
A miracle happened: I suddenly felt warmth emanating
from them. I touched the lumps with my hand-they were cold, but
above them I felt a clear thermal sensation.
Besides, in my fingers I felt some
hitherto unknown jerks, some sort of "tick" as it were.
And when I pushed the bowl with the nests to the end of the desk
and leaned over it, I felt the same sensation as on the lake-my
head was getting lighter and bigger, the body was falling down,
the eyes saw rapid flashes, and the mouth tasted an electric
battery. I was feeling slightly nauseous...
I put a sheet of cardboard on top of
the bowl-the sensation didn't change. A pot lid changed nothing
either; it was as if the "something" was cutting right
through it. I had to study the phenomenon at once. But what could
I do at home, without the necessary physical instruments? I got
assistance from many research scientists of various institutes
of the Agricultural Academy in Novosibirsk.
But alas, the instruments-either thermometers,
or ultrasound detectors, magnetometers and electrometers-did
not respond to them in the slightest.
We conducted a precise chemical analysis
of the clay-nothing special. The radiometer was also silent...
But ordinary human hands, and not just mine, distinctly felt
either warmth or a cold draft and a tingle, or sometimes a thicker,
Some people's hands got heavier, others
felt theirs were pushed up; some people's fingers and arm muscles
got numb, they felt giddy and had profuse salivation.
Similar phenomena could be observed in a bunch of
paper tubes inhabited by leaf-cutting bees. Each tunnel had a
solid row of multi-layered cans of torn leaves, covered with
concave lids (also of leaves). Inside the cans there were silk,
oval cocoons with larvae and chrysalides.
I asked people who knew nothing of
my discovery to hold their hands or faces over the leaf-cutter
nests, and took a detailed record of the experiment. The results
may be found in my article "On the physical and biological
properties of pollinator bee nests" published in the Siberian
Bulletin of Agricultural Science, no.3, 1984.
The same article contains the formula
of the discovery-a brief physical description of this wonderful
phenomenon. Based on the structure of bee nests, I created a
few dozen artificial honeycombs-of plastic, paper, metal, and
wood. It turned out that the cause of all those unusual sensations
was not a biological field, but the size, shape, number, and
the arrangement of caverns formed by any solid objects. And as
before, the organism felt it, while the instruments were silent.
I called the discovery the Cavernous Structures
Effect (CSE) and carried on with my experiments. Nature continued
to reveal its innermost secrets one after another...
It turned out that the CSE zone inhibits
the growth of saprophytic soil bacteria, of yeast and other cultures,
as well as wheat grain germination. It also changes the behavior
of microscopic algea chlamydospores. Leaf-cutting bee larvae
begin to phosphoresce, while adult bees are much more active
in this field and finish pollination two weeks earlier.
It turned out that the CSE, like gravitation,
could not be shielded-it affected living organisms through walls,
thick metal, and other screens. It turned out that if a porous
object were moved to another spot, the human would feel the CSE
not immediately but in a few seconds or minutes, while the old
spot would retain a "trace", or as I called it, a "phantom"
perceivable by the hand for hours, and sometimes for months thereafter.
It turned out that the CSE field did
not decrease evenly with distance, but surrounded the honeycomb
with a system of invisible, yet sometimes clearly perceivable
It turned out that animals (white mice)
and humans entering the zone of the CSE (even a very strong one)
soon adapted to it. It couldn't be otherwise: we are everywhere
surrounded by caverns large and small: by grids, cells of living
and dead plants (as well as our own cells), by bubbles of foam-rubber,
foam plastic, foam concrete, rooms, corridors, halls, roofing,
spaces between machine parts, trees, furniture, buildings.
It turned out that the CSE "ray"
had a stronger impact on living organisms when it was directed
away from the sun, and also downwards, facing the Earth's center.
It turned out that clocks-both mechanical
and electronic-placed in a strong CSE field started running inaccurately-Time
must also have a part in it. All this was the manifestation of
the Will of Matter, constantly moving, transforming, and eternally
existing. It turned out that back in the 20s the French physicist
Louis des Broglie was awarded the Nobel Prize for his discovery
of these waves, and that the latter were used in electronic microscopes.
It turned out... well, many other things
transpired in my experiments and research, but they would lead
us into solid-state physics, quantum mechanics, elementary-particle
physics, i. e far away from the main characters of our narrative:
Meanwhile, I did manage to devise instruments
for an objective registration of the CSE-instruments that accurately
reacted to the proximity of insect nests.
Here they are in the drawing: sealed vessels with
straws and burnt twigs-drawing coals-suspended on spider web
threads. There is some water at the bottom to counter static
electricity hindering experiments in dry air.
If you point an old wasp nest, a bee
honeycomb, a bunch of cereal ears to the upper end of the indicator,
it slowly moves a few dozen degrees...
There is no miracle here: the energy
of scintillating electrons of both multi-cavernous bodies creates
a total wave system in space, whereby a wave is energy capable
of performing a mutual repulsion of these objects-even through
obstacles, such as a thick-walled steel capsule (see photograph).
It is hard to imagine that its armor
is powerless to stop waves of a tiny, light wasp nest seen in
the picture, and that the indicator inside this heavy, solid
capsule "runs away"-sometimes as far as 180 degrees-from
this long-vacant nest. Yet it is so. Those who have doubts are
invited to visit the Agroecology Museum near Novosibirsk-you'll
see it for yourselves.
The same museum displays an always-active
honeycomb painkiller. It is a chair with an overhead cap that
has a few empty, but intact combs of the honeybee ("dry"
honeycombs, in the beekeeper vocab) in it. Anyone who sits in
this chair will after a few minutes almost certainly feel something
(please write to me what exactly you feel, I'll be grateful),
while those with a headache will in just a few minutes say goodbye
to the pain-at least for a few hours. My painkillers are successfully
used in many parts of the country-I made no secret of my discovery.
The hand will clearly sense the emanation
if you take it from below, palm up, to the cap with bee honeycombs.
The cap could be made of cardboard, veneer, or better still,
of tin plate with tightly sealed seams.
Yet another gift from insects...
This was my reasoning at first: people
have been dealing with the honeybee for thousands of years, no
one has ever complained of anything unpleasant, except of course
stings. I held a dry honeycomb over my head-it was working!
I decided to use a set of six frames.
Such was the story of my rather simple discovery. An old wasp
nest works quite differently, even though the size and shape
of its cells are very close to those of bees.
The important difference was that the
honeycomb material, unlike that of wax, is more crumbly and micro-porous:
it is paper-like (by the way, it was wasps that invented paper,
not people: they scrape old wood fiber and mix it with their
Walls of the wasp honeycomb are much
thinner than those of bees, the cell size and pattern are also
different, as is the outer shell, also made of multi-layered,
loosely wrapped paper. I had reports of a highly unpleasant effect
of a few wasp nests in an attic. And besides, most multi-cell
devices and objects that will manifest CSE in the first few minutes
have a far from beneficial effect on humans. Honeybee combs are
a rare exception. And when in the 1960s we had bumblebees living
in our Isilkul apartment, I often observed the following.
A young bumblebee on its first trip
away from the hive did not take the trouble to remember the entrance
and would spend hours wandering around the windows of our house
and of a similar-looking house nearby. And in the evening, giving
up on its poor visual memory, it would land on the brick wall,
precisely outside the hive and would try to break right through
it. How did the insect know that right there, four meters away
from the entrance, and a meter and a half below, behind the thick,
half-meter wall was its home nest? At the time I was lost in
conjectures, but now I know exactly why the bumblebee behaved
like that. An amazing find, wouldn't you agree?
Now let us remember the experiment
in which hunter wasps returned not just to a given location,
but to an entirely different place where the lump of soil with
their nest had been moved: no doubt, they were able to find it
because of a wave beacon created by the nest cavern. And there
was another mystery revealed to me by my insect friends. It turned
out that to attract their pollinators, flowers use not only color,
odor, and nectar, but also a similar wave beacon, powerful and
I discovered it with a drawing coal-a burnt twig-by
passing it over large, bell-shaped flowers (tulips, lilies, amaryllises,
Already at a distance I could feel
a "braking", as it were, of this detector. Soon I was
able to find a flower in a dark room standing one or two meters
away from it-but only if it had not been moved, because a "false
target" would be left in its old place-the "residual
phantom" I already mentioned.
I do not possess any supersensory abilities,
and any person after some training would be able to do the same.
Instead of coal one could use a 10-cm-long piece of a yellow
sorghum stem, or a short pencil whose rear end should be facing
Some people would be able to feel the
flower (a "warm", "cold", or "shivering"
sensation emanating from it) with their bare hands, tongues,
or even faces. As many experiments demonstrated, children and
adolescents are particularly sensitive to Waves of Matter.
As for bees that nest underground,
their "knowledge" of the CSE is vital for them first
of all, because it enables the builder of a new gallery to stay
away from a neighboring nest. Otherwise the entire bee-city cut
through with intersecting holes would simply collapse.
Secondly, plant roots cannot be allowed to grow
down into the galleries and honeycombs. Thus roots stop a few
centimeters away from the honeycomb, or else, feeling that nests
are near, they start growing aside.
The latter conclusion was confirmed by my many experiments
on sprouting wheat seeds in a strong CSE field, as compared to
seeds germinating in the same climatic conditions but in the
absence of the CSE.
Photographs and drawings show both
the dying of roots in the experimental batch and their sharp
deviation in a direction away from my "artificial honeycomb".
Thus bees and weeds back at the lake
had long ago made a pact-another example of the highest ecological
expediency of all Being. And in that same spot on the globe we
see yet another example of people's mercilessly ignorant attitude
The bee-city is now gone; every spring
thick streams of fertile black earth soil run down, between filthy
heaps of trash, to the lifeless, salty puddles that not too long
ago were a string of lakes with countless flocks of sandpipers
and ducks, white swans, and hovering fish-hawks. And by the steppe
thinned out by bee holes, one used to hear the hum of hundreds
of thousands of bees that for the first time led me into the
I must have tired the reader with all
these honeycombs of mine... A separate thick book would be required
to describe all my experiments. Therefore I will only mention
one thing: my pocket, battery-powered calculator often malfunctioned
in the CSE field: it either erred, or sometimes its display window
would fail to light up for hours. I used the field of a wasp
nest combined with that of my two palms. None of these structures
had any effect in isolation.
I will also note that hands with their
tubular phalanxes, joints, ligaments, blood vessels, and nails
are intensive CSE emanators capable of giving a powerful push
to the straw or coal indicator of my little instrument from a
couple of meters' distance. Practically anyone could do it. This
is why I am convinced that there are no people with supersensory
abilities, or rather that all the people have them... And the
number of those who from a distance can move light-weight objects
on a table, hold them suspended in the air or "magnetically"
attached to the hand is far greater than is usually thought.
Try it yourself! I look forward to your letters.
There once was an ancient folk game:
one man sits on a chair, and over his head, four of his friends
"build" a grid of horizontally stretched palms with
slightly spread fingers-first right hands, then left, with 2
cm gaps between them. In 10-15 seconds, all four synchronously
put their pressed-together index and middle fingers under the
armpits and under the knees of the sitting man, and then they
energetically toss him up in the air. The time between "collapsing"
the grid and tossing the man must not exceed two seconds; the
synchronicity is also very important. If everything is done right,
a 100-kilo man flies up almost to the ceiling, while the ones
who tossed him claim he was light as a feather.
A strict reader may ask me how it is
possible. Doesn't it all contradict laws of nature? And if so,
am I not propagating mysticism? Nothing of the sort! There is
no mysticism, the thing is simply that we, humans, still know
little of the Universe which, as we see, not always "accepts"
our, all too human rules, assumptions, and orders... Once it
dawned on me: the results of my experiments with insect nests
bear too much similarity to the reports of people who happened
to be in the vicinity of... UFOs. Think and compare: temporary
malfunctioning of electronic devices, disrupted clocks-i. e.,
time, an invisible, resilient "obstacle", a temporary
drop in the weight of objects, the sensation of a drop in human
weight, phosphenes-moving, colored flashes in the eyes, a "galvanic"
taste in the mouth...
I am sure you have read about all this
in UFO journals. I am now telling you it can all be experienced
in our Museum. Come visit! Was I standing on the threshold of
yet another mystery? Quite so. And again I was helped by chance,
or rather by my old insect friends. And again there were sleepless
nights, failures, doubts, breakdowns, even accidents... And I
had no one to turn to for advice-they would have just laughed,
But I can say this, my reader: he is
happy who has a more or less adequate use of his eyes, head,
and hands-skillful hands are particularly important!-and trust
me, the joy of creative work, even of work that ends in failure,
is far higher and brighter than earning any diplomas, medals,
Flying an Anti-gravitational Platform
(excerpts from a diary)
Judge it for yourself from my diary
excerpts-obviously simplified and adapted for this book. Pictures
and drawings will help you to evaluate my story... A hot summer
day. Far-away expanses drown in a bluish-lilac haze; the sky's
gigantic cupola with fluffy clouds stretches above the fields
and coppices. I am flying about 300 meters above ground, with
a distant lake-a light, elongated spot in the haze-as my reference
Blue, intricate tree contours slowly recede; between
them, there are fields. Those, bluish-green ones are fields of
oats; the whitish rectangles with a strange, rhythmic twinkling
are those of buckwheat. Straight ahead of me is a field of alfalfa-its
green color is familiar, it resembles the oil paint "cobalt
medium-green". Green oceans of wheat on the right are of
a denser shade and resemble the "chrome oxide" paint.
An enormous, multi-colored palette floats further and further
Footpaths meander between fields and
coppices. They join gravel roads which it turn stretch further
out, toward the highway, still invisible from here for the haze,
but I know that if I flew on the right side of the lake, I would
see it-a smooth, gray strip without a beginning or an end, on
which cars-small boxes-are slowly crawling.
Isometric, flat shadows of cumulus
clouds are picturesquely spread around the sunny forest-steppe.
They are deep-blue where they cover coppices, and are various
shades of light blue over fields. Now I am in the shadow of one
such cloud: I accelerate-it's quite easy for me to do that-and
leave the shadow.
I lean forward slightly and feel a
warm, taut wind coming far down below, from the sun-warmed ground
and plants. It comes not from the side, as on the ground, but
strangely from the surface up. I physically feel a thick, dense
current with a strong odor of blooming buckwheat. Of course this
jet can easily lift up even a large bird-an eagle, a stork, or
a crane-if it freezes its spread wings. But I have no wings and
am suspended in the air not by the upward jet.
In my flight I am supported by a flat, rectangular
little platform, slightly bigger than the seat of a chair, with
a pole and two handles to which I hold on and with whose help
I navigate the device. Is this science fiction? I wouldn't say
In a word, the interrupted manuscript
of this book was abandoned for two years because generous, ancient
Nature, again through my insect friends had given me another
Something-and it did so, as usual, elegantly and inconspicuously,
yet swiftly and convincingly. And for two years the Discovery
did not let me go, even though it seemed to me I was mastering
it at a break-neck speed.
(Note: Grebennikov would have been
approximately 62-63 years of age in 1990-1992)
But it always happens this way: when
your work is new and interesting, time flies twice as fast. A
light spot of a steppe lake is already much closer. Beyond it,
the highway is visible with already distinctly discernable boxes
of cars. The highway is about 8km away from the railway that
runs parallel to it, and if I look closer, I can see the poles
of the power line and the light-colored embankment of the railway.
It is time to turn some 20 degrees to the left.
I am not seen from the ground, and
not just because of the distance: even in a very low flight I
cast almost no shadow. Yet, as I found out later, people sometimes
see something where I am in the sky-either a light sphere, a
disk, or something like a slanted cloud with sharp edges that
moves, according to them, not exactly the way a cloud would.
One person 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, and
I am for the moment pleased with it-I can't be too careful! Besides,
I still haven't determined what my visibility or invisibility
Therefore I confess that I consciously
avoid people in my flight and for that purpose bypass cities
and towns, and even cross roads and footpaths at high speed,
after making sure there is no one on them.
In these excursions-no doubt, fictional
for the reader, but for me already almost casual-I trust only
my insect friends depicted on these pages.
The first practical use of my discovery
was-and still is-entomological: to examine my secret places,
to take a picture of them from above, to find new, still unexamined
Insect Lands in need of protection and rescue. Alas, Nature established
its own, strict limitations on my work: just as on a passenger
plane, I could see but couldn't photograph.
My camera shutter wouldn't close, and
both rolls of films I had taken with me-one in the camera, the
other in my pocket-got light-struck. I didn't succeed in sketching
the landscape either; as both my hands were almost always busy,
I could only free one hand for a couple of seconds. Thus I could
only draw from memory. I managed to do that only immediately
after landing-though I am an artist, my visual memory is not
In my flight I did not feel the same
way we do when we fly in our sleep.
It was with flying in my sleep that
I started this book a while ago. And flying is not so much pleasure
as it is work, sometimes very hard and dangerous. One has to
stand, not hover, the hands are always busy, and a few centimeters
away there is a border separating "this" space from
"that", on the outside.
The border is invisible but very treacherous.
My contraption is still rather clumsy and resembles perhaps...
hospital scales. But this is only the beginning!
By the way, besides the camera, I sometimes
had trouble with my watch and possibly, with the calendar too:
descending on a familiar glade, I would occasionally find it
slightly "out of season", with a two-week deviation,
and I had nothing to check it against.
Thus it is possible to fly not just
in space but also-or so it seems-in time as well. I cannot make
the latter claim with a 100% guarantee, except perhaps that in
flight, particularly at its beginning, a watch runs too slow
and then too fast, but at the end of the excursion starts running
This is why I stay away from people
during my journeys: if time is involved alongside gravitation,
I might perhaps accidentally disrupt cause-and-effect relations
and someone might get hurt.
This is where my fears were coming from: insects
captured "there" disappear from test tubes, boxes,
and other receptacles.
They disappear mostly without a trace.
Once a test tube in my pocket was crushed to tiny bits, another
time there was an oval hole in the glass, with brown, as though
"chitin" edges-you can see it in the picture.
Many times I felt a kind of burning
or an electric shock inside my pocket-perhaps at the moment of
my prisoner's "disappearance".
Only once did I find a captured insect
in the test tube, but it wasn't the adult ichneumon with white
rings on its feelers, but its... chrysalis, i. e. its earlier
stage. It was alive-it moved its belly when touched. Much to
my dismay, it 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. I could have adapted my device
accordingly, but since I am an entomologist, I simply do not
need winter flights.
How and why did I come to this discovery?
In the summer of 1988, as I was examining under a microscope
the chitin shells of insects, their pinnate (feathery) feelers,
and the thinnest structure of butterflies' wings, I got interested
in an amazingly rhythmical microstructure of one large insect
It was an extremely well-ordered composition,
as though pressed on a complex machine according to special blueprints
and calculations. As I saw it, the intricate sponginess was clearly
not necessary either for the durability of the detail, or for
its decoration. I had never observed anything like this unusual
micro-ornament either in nature, in technology, or in art.
Because its structure is three-dimensional,
so far I have been unable to capture it in a drawing, 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 beacon with "my" multiple cavernous structures
effect? That truly lucky summer there were very many insects
of this species, and I would capture them at night: neither before,
nor after was I able to observe these insects.
I put the small, concave chitin plate
on the microscope shelf in order again to examine under strong
magnification its strangely
star-shaped cells. I again
admired this masterpiece of nature, and almost purposelessly
placed it on top of another, identical plate that had the same
unusual cells on one of its sides.
But no!-the detail broke loose from
my tweezers; for a few seconds it hung suspended above the other
plate on the microscope shelf, turned a few degrees clockwise,
slid to the right, turned counterclockwise, swung, and only then
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 with
a wire-it wasn't an easy thing to do, and I only succeeded when
I positioned them vertically. What I got was a multi-layered
chitin block. I put it on the desk.
Even a relatively large object-such
as a paper tack-could not fall on it-something pushed it up and
aside. When I attached the tack on top of the "block",
I witnessed such incredible, impossible things (for example,
the tack for a few moments was lost from sight) that I realized
it was no beacon, but something else entirely.
And again I got so excited that all
the objects around me became foggy and shaky. It was with a huge
effort that I managed to pull myself together in a couple of
hours and continue working.
So, this is how it 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 conducted my first, very unsuccessful
and highly dangerous flight on the night of March 17, 1990. I
didn't have the patience to wait till the warm season and neglected
to go to a deserted area. I already knew that night was the most
dangerous time for this kind of work.
I had bad luck from the very beginning:
the panel blocks of the right part of the bearing platform periodically
got stuck. I should have fixed the problem immediately, but neglected
to do so. I took off right in the middle of the Agricultural
Academy campus, erroneously assuming that at 1 AM everyone was
asleep, and nobody would see me.
The lift-off went well, but in a few
seconds, when the lit windows of buildings sank beneath me, I
felt dizzy. I should have landed right then but remained airborne,
which was wrong because a powerful force snatched away my control
over the movement and weight, and it pulled me in the direction
of the city.
Drawn by this unexpected, uncontrollable
power, I crossed the second circle of 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), 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 chimneys many of which fumed thick smoke-night shift
was on. I had to do something quickly.
I got on top of the situation only
with a great effort. Finally I managed to conduct an emergency
adjustment of the panel blocks. My horizontal movement slowed
down, but then I again felt sick.
Only at fourth try did I succeed in
stopping the horizontal movement, at which point my platform
was hanging over Zatulinka, the city's industrial district. The
sinister chimneys silently continued to fume right underneath
I rested for a few minutes-if one could
call hanging over a lighted factory fence rest-and after I made
sure the "evil power" has passed, I glided back-yet
not in the direction of our Agricultural Academy campus but to
the right from it, toward the airport. I did this to foul the
trail, in case someone had seen me.
Only about halfway to the airport,
over some dark, night fields where there was clearly no one around,
I abruptly turned home... Next day I naturally couldn't get out
News on TV and in 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 they had seen a "real saucer" with windows
I am not discounting the possibility
that some Zatulino residents saw not my near-emergency evolutions,
but something else entirely that had nothing to do with those.
Besides, March of 1990 was particularly rich in UFO sightings
in Siberia, near Nalchik, and especially in Belgium where, according
to Pravda, on March 31 the engineer Marcel Alferlane took
a two-minute film of the flight of a huge triangular craft which,
according to Belgian scientists, were none other than "material
objects with a capacity no civilization can 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
I too wanted to make the platform triangular-it
is much safer and more efficient that way-but I chose a rectangular
design because it is easier to fold, and when folded, it resembles
a suitcase, a painter's case, or a briefcase that can be thus
disguised so as not to arouse suspicion. I, naturally, disguised
it as a painter's case.
I had nothing to do with the sightings
in Nalchik or Belgium. Besides, as it may appear, I am very impractical
in the use of my discovery-I only fly to my entomological preserves.
These are far more important to me than any technological finds.
At the moment, I have eleven such preserves:
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 salvaged by me and my family, 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 salvage these little preserves from evil, ignorant people.
Thus I am continuing my journey westward
under the magnificent, fluffy clouds at noon. The blue shadows
of the clouds, the intricately shaped coppices, and the multicolored
rectangles of fields float backwards 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" from space an upward-diverging, invisible
column that cuts the platform off the earth's gravitational pull.
But it left me and the air inside the column intact. I think
that all this, as it were, parts space in flight, and then closes
it behind me.
This must be the reason for the invisibility,
or the distorted visibility, of the device and its "rider"-as
was the case with my flight over Novosibirsk's Zatulinka suburb.
But the protection from gravity is
regulated, even though it is incomplete: if you move your head
forward, you already feel the turbulence of the wind that clearly
smells either of sweet clover, of buckwheat, or of the colored
weeds of Siberian meadows.
I leave Isilkul with its huge grain
elevator on my right and gradually begin to descend over the
highway, making sure that I am invisible to drivers, passengers,
and people working in the field.
My platform and I cast no shadow (although
the shadow occasionally appears): I see three kids on the edge
of a forest, go down, drop my speed, and fly right near them.
They show no reaction, which means that everything is fine-neither
I, nor my shadow are visible. Or heard: the propulsion principle
of my device is such that the platform makes no sound whatsoever,
because there is practically no air friction.
My journey was long-at least forty
minutes from Novosibirsk. My hands are tired as I can't take
them off the controls, so are my legs and body-I have to stand
up straight, tied to the vertical pole with a belt. And even
though I can travel faster, I am still afraid to do so-my hand-made
machine is still too small and fragile.