By Ray Wilson
It’s a chilly Saturday morning in late November 2023. The skies are clear, the sun is rising, and there is still a frost on the grass verges outside my dad’s house. I avoid the potholes punched into the asphalt road as I manoeuvre the motorcycle combination onto the driveway. As soon as we are stationary, the hound is keen to jump out of the sidecar and catapult over the lawn, flying around in circles, much to the amusement of my brother Rich.
“I thought you were turning up early,” he comments, smiling.
“I am afraid not; best I could do,” I reply.
The hound is by the gate, having detected Mick approaching with his two dogs. He normally has a bag of treats with him, and she sits expectantly.
“I bet you are busy,” I say.
“You know what? I love when it gets to April—no call-outs for heat pump problems,” he begins. “As soon as there’s a cold snap, it starts—they are meant to have an immersion heater backup, but they don’t get it inspected or the compressor fails—it ticks the green energy box, I suppose, but it’s not viable this time of year.”
Mick looks at me and down at my hound.
“I had better get these two back,” he says, reaching into this pouch and giving my hound a couple of bone-shaped treats.
“You didn’t tell him about free energy then,” Rich says as we inspect the scratched mahogany box on the workshop bench.
“You mention Tesla, and everyone immediately thinks of a car,” I reply.
“When did you learn about Tesla?” Rich asks, “Not at school or from your lecturers.”
“We learned about Newton, Faraday, Einstein, Westinghouse, Marconi, and Edison, possibly others, but not a mention of Nikola Tesla. The man who gave us alternating current, viable power distribution systems, and induction motors saved us endless hours of human labour.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rich says, opening the brown box.
Wardenclyffe Tower, known as the Tesla Tower, was an early experimental wireless transmission station for high-voltage electrical energy. Nikola Tesla designed the electrical system in 1901, and J.P. Morgan handled the majority of the finance. Tesla had been forced to sign over various patents to secure the necessary capital. Morgan’s real interest was in acquiring a communication system to link him to the London Stock Exchange so he could benefit from knowledge of share price fluctuations.
As soon as Morgan became aware of the true enormity of Tesla Tower’s promise of electrical energy for the world without the need for much in the way of copper wires, he declined Tesla’s repeated requests for additional money. The money was a drop in the ocean for Morgan; he probably spent more in a month on fine art for his home, but that wasn’t the point. Morgan owned copper mines and needed to profit from them, and cables around the world for the transmission of energy, power lines, telephone lines, and street and house cabling would need a lot of copper.
Marconi’s first patent application in the United States was denied in 1900 because of Tesla’s priority; his revised applications were repeatedly rejected. Morgan brutally controlled corporate financing, and part of “The Money Trust” was basically the financial deep state of its time. A patent was eventually granted to Marconi, so it is likely that J.P. Morgan saw no advantage in further supporting Nikola Tesla. Tesla was a man of the people; he cared little for money, and he wanted his inventions to benefit all of mankind. Tesla was the most dangerous person the cabal had encountered so far; his ideas for free energy were the anthesis of their plan to enslave humanity. Tesla died in 1943, virtually penniless and in relative obscurity.
How’s the wizard, your electronics genius friend?” Rich asks.
“Not good—he’s in the so-called vulnerable group; he complained of brain fog. He told me, ‘My brain does not work any more; the equations that flowed onto paper like water from a tap simply stopped.’ He went into the hospital suffering from a mini stroke; he now has virtually lost his eyesight and has been diagnosed with multiple turbo-cancers.”
“You think?” Rich begins.
“I am sure, the missus said this to me last night.
“Twenty odd years ago, I went to the doctor and explained the symptoms. He did tests on me and pronounced, “That’s a virus. We can’t treat viruses. Take two paracetamol and rest up. You will be fine.”
“It sounds like a joke, is it?” Rich asks.
“It is, but it’s not funny. The point is that it was part of the predictive programming—preparing us—doing the groundwork—SPI-B and mindspace-look, viruses don’t exist—not COVID, not any of them. There is simply no evidence—yes, the cells of sick people exude dead fragments of protein only visible under an electron microscope—it’s just cells getting rid of toxins. Fast-forward to 2020. Lockdowns: people in virtual solitary confinement—no contact with family or friends—prohibited from going out more than once a day—masked up—deprived of oxygen, fresh air, exercise, and sunlight—drip-fed fast food and beer and 24/7 television fear propaganda—that equals sick people, dead people. Don’t worry, though; we worked all weekend, and freedom is coming. We aren’t safe until we are all safe. Roll up your sleeves, folks. No, it’s not compulsory. There’s free pizza and your free entry into the lottery. If you don’t have the ‘vaccine’, you probably won’t be able to work, eat, or travel, but hey, it’s your choice.”
The so-called “vaccines” introduce nano toxins into the blood that easily pass through the blood-brain barrier; it all equals more sick people; more ways to decrease the surplus population; plus, it generates fountains of money; and it reduces expenditure on pesky old, sick, and disabled people. Now ask yourself: Who’s agenda? Who would this outcome possibly suit? Don’t worry, though; we are busy working on more injectables for cancer, dementia, and every other virus we can possibly dream up.”
“Sorry Rich, I am a bit pissed off—seeing so many people getting ill—seeing so many friends dying.”
We look in silence at the mahogany box, its skilfully cut dovetail joints, and its velvet lining bonded in place with rabbit skin glue.
“I have been thinking that I could clean the box using wire wool,” Rich says, looking at me intently. “Maybe use light stains, oil, and wax to finish it off; we need to remove all fittings; we might need a new piano hinge for the lid and clips for the glass attachments—maybe buff up the other fitments and lacquer them—what do you think, Ray?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I carefully flipped the lid of the antique Everay device, exposing the electrodes. “It’s almost a century old; I have tested the Tesla coils, and they are as good as the day they were wound; the capacitor is a bit leaky, but we will replace that and make some new insulating pillars on the lathe.”
I carefully plug the glass electrode into the handpiece and plug the device into a nearby electrical socket. I slowly turn the control knob, and it emits a high-frequency buzz. Suddenly, the glass electrode illuminates.
“That’s incredible,” Rich gasps. I run it over my hand; there is a gentle warmth.
“Feel that, Rich,” I say. He takes the handle and puts the electrode with its river of violet energy on his arm. “I have never felt anything like it. It’s very invigorating and soothing, both at the same time. It’s a weird sensation, but I have to say, I like it.”
“Is it scalar energy, Ray?”
“No, it’s not scalar energy, but a manifestation of scalar energy. It’s on the electromagnetic spectrum. Tesla knew about the scalar energy-funny thing; after his death, the authorities raided his rooms and removed all his documents, drawings, and equations—it was 1943-WW2. They said it was a national security issue and they wouldn’t want the information ‘getting into the wrong hands”‘.
“In the early 1900s, one night before Tesla was made bankrupt and Westinghouse reclaimed the generators, Tesla carried out one last ditch experiment as proof of his work; it resulted in a spontaneous conflagration hundreds of miles away. It was just a coincidence, of course, as were the more recent spontaneous fires that burned in an unnatural way—those fires that were attributed to climate change and had nothing to do with DEWs.
DEWs are weapons that use focused electromagnetic energy to attack enemy forces and assets. High-energy lasers and other high-power electro magnetics, such as millimetre-wave and high-power microwave weapons, are examples of these weapons.
“You think they did, then?”
“Yep, I think they did. Tesla wanted his work to benefit all of mankind, not just an elite few. I believe he had knowledge of scalar energy—the spooky thing Einstein fudged in his equations. We are all part of scalar energy, and time has no dominion in scalar energy; it is everywhere at once. I think of it as cosmic energy—the divine energy of the stars and of the creator.”
“Are you going to sell the Everay device when we have finished refurbishing it?” Rich asks.
“Nope, I think I will let anyone and everybody who thinks they might benefit just use it,” I answer.
Tesla wanted us to be free, and his gift to humanity was his knowledge. The true source of free energy is scalar energy—the problem is that we just don’t realise the power is there for each and every one of us. He envisioned a world where energy was abundant and accessible to everyone, without the need for monopolies or control. His inventions and ideas, such as the wireless transmission of electricity and his healing devices, which were once widely used in hospitals, were meant to empower individuals and communities. Despite facing challenges and setbacks, Tesla’s legacy continues to inspire scientists and inventors to pursue groundbreaking technologies for the betterment of humanity.
“So we are stardust, and we are golden,” Rich starts to say.
“And we had better get ourselves back to work,” I interject.
Tesla, errased from history (marndin/YT):
Description: Enamelled metal badge. Size: 16—20 mm. Colours: white and silver (silver looks like black on photos). With butterfly pin clutch in the back.
A symbol for freedom, peace, and truth!
Books for under the Christmas tree
- Famous Christmas Tales
- Five Christmas Tales
- The Big Bad Wolf and the Syringe (newly edited)
- How to Avoid Digital Slavery
- Hope Amidst a Tsunami of Evil
- Fairy tale books