| FWD: URGENT: Parker, Arizona Informational Breach |
| From: pcs.bad|noltiaCM#pcs.bad|noltiaCM |
Director Kyrie,
We have a problem.
It'd be quicker if I just show you.
[LINK]
ParkerArizonaWatcher2003 #13098539
Does anyone else from Parker, Arizona remember The Incident?
Not that that's what everybody really called it. That was just what my parents always use to refer to what happened, that day in 2003.
Officially, the news called it "the Parker seizure hijacking" or some such crap like that. It's basically the only thing our town is known for, aside from being named after some Native American government type, and for a military camp stationed there getting burnt down because of a steamboat.
Anyway, I'm getting offtrack.
What I'm about to talk about has been gleaned from talking with my parents and brother who aren't the best at remembering things, and from my own childhood memories resurfacing after 20 years, so take this with as many or as little grains of salt as you want. But this is, as far as I know, my own experience with what happened in Parker, Arizona on January 24, 2003.
It was a Thursday evening. My brother and I were still in a bit of a hyperactive state, because it was a Friday and we wouldn't have to go to school for a whole three days, thanks to Parent-Teacher Conferences happening on Monday. To make matters worse for our poor parents, the two of us were both Spongebob Squarepants fanatics. And this was during the heyday of that little yellow bastard, so you couldn't go two feet without seeing that buck-toothed grin of his somewhere. We almost had to dedicate an entire room to the guy, with how much merchandise we screamed at our overworked mom to get for us.
And of course, that day there was going to be a new episode, and of course me and my little bro were hyped beyond belief. New episodes were basically an event all on their own in our household, with our dad making little popcorn bowls for the two of us to munch on, and him even recording the episodes on to VHS so we didn't have to wait for a lucky break with reruns.
So the two of us gathered around the TV just before six-thirty, almost glued to the CRT screen just so we could see that crusty old painted pirate at the beginning up close before he launched into song.
What showed up on the screen wasn't that.
In fact, neither of us could remember what we saw. One moment, the two of us were waiting for the opening. The next, we were being cradled by our parents in an emergency waiting room, surrounded by what must of been dozens of crying kids just like us. It was completely overwhelming, with doctors rushing in everywhere, more and more parents with their children coming in in a panic.
We stayed overnight in one of the hospital rooms, the place being damn near filled to capacity, and after an entire following morning spent with tests being ran on the both of us, we were let go. "Freak seizure from a faulty broadcast" is what it was all written off as.
And for a while, that's all me and my bro believed it was, and what my parents retold to us every time, we asked about it. It all added up, in our minds. Seizures have a tendency to induce temporary memory loss, and none of us could remember the thirty minutes that happened. Plus, our extended family had a history of epilepsy. That didn't explain why hundreds of other kids, some of them people who I knew didn't have that kind of history, had also ended up in that hospital.
That all changed, though, when my father was on his deathbed. My brother was on deployment, so he couldn't be there, and mom had passed on a few years prior.
What he was sick with doesn't even really matter in the grand scheme of things. Just writing this down is bringing back unpleasant and painful memories, so please forgive me for being vague.
What matters is what he told me, as I held onto his hand while he struggled to keep air going into his lungs.
He told me that it wasn't a seizure, that my brother and I had suffered twenty years ago. It was something stranger, something much more frightening for him and my mother to witness.
He explained that right when the episode of Spongebob was supposed to air, there was a burst of television static, and a strange symbol appeared on our television's screen, with a background that changed between many colors. My brother and I had slumped down onto the floor immediately afterward.
No matter what my parents did, they couldn't wake us up. We were still breathing, but we wouldn't even stir or move. Our eyes were open the entire time, but they'd rolled to the back of our heads.
Mom and dad didn't even both shutting the TV off or anything; they just scooped us up into their arms and immediately drove us to the hospital. It took longer than it normally would; traffic was congested because of all the other parents who were taking their kids there.
Most of what I'd remembered after we came to was accurate, he'd told me. However, he confided in me something he'd never told even our mother.
He'd kept the tape this whole time. He'd told our mother, us, and the representatives from Viacom that he'd destroyed it, but he'd actually secured a safety deposit box at our bank, and put in there for safe-keeping. When I asked him why, after what the contents had done to me and my brother, he pulled me close, his breathing labored as he spoke into my ear.
It wasn't just any symbol that had appeared on the screen. He'd looked into it, a few years after it'd all went down. He had a feeling in his gut that it was a Magic Circle, the kind that old wiccans allegedly used to summon demons, or protect themselves from them.
Why it'd showed up on the TV station of some backwater town in Arizona, he couldn't tell me. But that symbol had taken thirty minutes of our lives away from my brother and I, he said, and "may God himself damn my soul if I let those corporate bastards erase what really happened".
Before he passed on, he clasped my hand tight, and in it was the key to the safety deposit box.
I didn't go to the bank to open it, at first. After the funeral, it just felt like too much of a painful reminder of what I'd lost. I'd fallen out with my brother, shortly before the service had started. He absolutely refused to hear what my father had told me, and especially didn't take the deposit key being in my possession well. Something had changed in my brother after that day in 2003; he'd become more distant to us, colder even. But this day was the first, and only, time he'd ever screamed at me.
It was only after I was watching old episodes of Spongebob on Paramount+ with my daughter, and we got to the episode whose premiere had been taken away from my brother and I, that I found the courage to go to the bank and unlock the box. It was covered in dust, and when I was able to dig up our old VCR and pop the tape in, it was almost completely degraded, a mess of tracking errors and static.
But the last five minutes were more or less legible. I braced myself, but…nothing happened. I was still conscious. And I was staring at the "Magic Circle" that my father had kept secret from us. The background shifting into many different colors, some strange and ethereal droning sound playing, before those SMPTE bars cut into the broadcast and took the Circle with it.
I can't begin to tell you how I felt, after watching those five minutes go by. I felt no sense of closure; only confusion and frustration, at the inexplicable broadcast signal intrusion that had stolen not just 30 minutes of my childhood, but also my father, my brother…hell, probably even my mother, too!
I didn't know who, or what, caused this to happen. And I still don't know, even after asking as many people around town or online as I could, about what'd happened that day, about Magic Circles, about anything I tried to find out.
So, in a last ditch effort, I come to you, Parawatch.
Does anyone know anything more about what really happened in Parker, Arizona on January 24th, 2003?
Does anyone know anything about this symbol?
| RE: FWD: URGENT: Parker, Arizona Informational Breach |
| From: pcs.bad|eiryKUG#pcs.bad|eiryKUG |
Mitchell,
I first want to say that I truly do appreciate you bringing this to my attention. You've done your due diligence as one of our Department's operatives by sending this my way.
With that being said, however, we do not have anything to worry about.
This poster, and their father, are/were ignorant about the true, Noospheric significance of the symbol, and thanks to the degradation of the VHS tape, its effects have been completely nullified.
Parawatch has a history of being self-containing, with video evidence such as this. It'll just be dismissed as a poor attempt at promoting someone's alternate reality game, and a tasteless one at that, given the effectiveness of the Foundation's epilepsy coverup of this incident 20 years prior.
Nevertheless, to give you some peace of mind, I'll let our agents embedded in the site's moderation team keep an eye on the post for a few weeks.
Discredit, Archive, Broadcast,
Director Gastone U. Kyrie, Department of Anomalous Broadcasting, Site-247
