1-16-26
 Eternal  Artichoke 
I used to think the Cold War ended when the Wall came down.  
I was wrong.  
Some wars just go quiet, burrow deeper, and wait.
In 1951, the CIA launched Operation Artichoke.  
The official story is that it ran for a few years, morphed into MKULTRA, got exposed in the 1970s, and was shut down in disgrace.  
That’s the bedtime version they let historians print.
The real story never had an end date.
Artichoke’s core question was brutal and simple:  
Can a human being be rewired—against his will—to kill on command, forget he did it, and walk away clean?
They called it the “Manchurian trigger.”  
They tested it with hypnosis, barbiturates, amphetamines, sensory deprivation, electroshock, and every psychedelic the chemists could synthesize.  
Declassified memos speak of teams flown to safe houses in Japan, Germany, and remote U.S. bases.  
Subjects were prisoners, defectors, low-level agents, even unwitting CIA staff.  
One 1954 report brags that a hypnotized secretary was induced to plant a fake bomb and then had no memory of it.  
Another file—partially redacted—describes a subject who fired a pistol at a target while in a trance, then insisted he had never touched a gun.
The goal was never just interrogation.  
It was assassination without fingerprints.  
A sleeper who could pass a polygraph, love his family, and still pull the trigger when the right phrase was whispered over a phone line.  
They feared the Soviets had already done it.  
So America had to do it better.
By 1955 the program was supposedly folded into MKULTRA.  
Paper trails were burned.  
Sidney Gottlieb ordered most of the financial records destroyed in 1973.  
Convenient.
But programs like that don’t die.  
They change names, budgets, and overseers.
In the 1980s it lived inside classified compartments of the Human Resource Exploitation program.  
In the 1990s it hid under remote viewing and “non-lethal” research at places most people have never heard of.  
After 9/11 it found new life in enhanced interrogation and behavioral prediction modeling.  
Today it runs quietly in private contracts, university grants, and black-budget labs that don’t appear on any org chart.  
The tools are cleaner now: transcranial magnetic stimulation, targeted gene expression, synthetic telepathy experiments, and neural implants disguised as medical trials.  
The goal is the same: a switch in the mind that someone else can flip.
I know this because I met one of them.
His name is Elias Crowe.
Elias is tall, quiet, moves like he’s listening to music no one else can hear.  
He sells rare antiquities online—Mesopotamian seals, Egyptian scarabs, the occasional gold ring etched with cuneiform no scholar can fully translate.  
That’s his cover.  
It’s also how I met him: I bought a ring from his site three years ago, a heavy silver band with an inscription that looked like winged figures locked in combat.
When it arrived, there was an extra note in the box, handwritten:
“You feel it too, don’t you?  
The pull.  
Some bloodlines remember.”
I thought it was eccentric seller flair until the dreams started—vivid, violent flashes of places I’d never been and acts I’d never committed.  
Then Elias showed up at my door.
He told me what he was.  
Part human.  
Part something older.
He claims his lineage traces back to the Watchers—the angels who fell, mated with human women, and produced the Nephilim of Genesis 6.  
Most of that blood was wiped out in the Flood, he says, but fragments survived, diluted across millennia.  
Governments have hunted those fragments for centuries because the hybrid neurology is unusually receptive to deep hypnotic conditioning.  
The old Artichoke teams discovered it by accident in the 1950s when a subject with anomalous EEG patterns responded to suggestion in ways no normal brain ever had.
They called people like Elias “high-yield substrates.”
Elias was taken in 1987, age nine, after a minor car accident that conveniently killed his parents.  
He spent his childhood in a facility outside Colorado Springs, trained to compartmentalize memory, to enter trance states on verbal or tonal cues, to kill and forget.  
He was deployed twice that anyone will admit—once in Eastern Europe, once in Latin America.  
Both times the targets died of apparent natural causes.  
Both times Elias woke up thousands of miles away with no recollection.
He escaped in 2003 when a handler got sloppy.  
Since then he’s been off-grid, selling relics to fund a quiet life, watching for others like him.
He says the program never stopped because the need never stopped.  
Every decade brings a new enemy who might have the same capability.  
Every administration quietly renews the funding.  
The tech just gets more elegant, the subjects more carefully selected.
And some of the subjects are starting to wake up.
Elias wears a ring identical to the one he sold me.  
He says it’s a grounding anchor—an object his mind was trained to recognize as “safe.”  
When he touches it, the conditioning weakens for a moment.  
He’s looking for others who feel the pull, others who dream things they shouldn’t know.
He asked if I wanted to help expose it.  
I laughed—until I noticed my own dreams had stopped the day I put his ring on.
This ring holds not energy but a rare created black magician’s placement empowerment. This conditions you with your knowledge to become dangerous and able to move and think like a top trained assassin. You will know how to walk without noise, out think and protect whomever and whenever. I really don’t get pieces like this and I take what I can get. This is about or almost a size 14! So it’s big. You can wear it on a chain. You should wear it at night or place it inside the pillow case for the first 60 days. Only do that if you don’t want people to see you wear it. The black represents the Ninja and the gold was amounts placed into those accounts who knew what they were doing. Anyway…
Some stories end with the hero dismantling the machine.  
This one doesn’t.  
The machine is still running.  
It just learned to hide better.
If you ever buy an ancient ring from a seller named Crowe Antiquities, read the note carefully.  
And if the dreams start, don’t ignore them.
This ring is not an antique but made to do the job described above.
You may have unusual dreams. 
They might not be dreams at all.
They might be memories trying to come home.
Elias realized something was going on because you can’t hide everything forever.