The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 10. News Flash: People Are Alive in Fly Over Country!

by | Jun 13, 2022 |

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Note from the Hacker Team: 

The last chronicle we published from the hacked secret Homeland Security archives was about attorney Ianna McCormick’s disastrous press conference. She was trying to free Jake Larkin and to expose the unjust, endless imprisonment of hundreds of January 6, 2021, victims of the government’s faked “insurrection.” We were trying to find the next Elon-12 Chronicle by searching the encrypted folders for the name “Jake” when this new chronicle popped up. The life of Jake Larkin has led us to another Jake living in real-time and to a shocking revelation: There are people—lots of them—still living right now across most of middle North America!    

Call me a Fly Over. That’s what we call ourselves, we’re Fly Overs, and our country is Fly Over, USA. Ever since the beginning of the Great Resettlement in the 2030s, the government of Great Reset America has been lying to you about us. Their lies began when they said there was no resistance — no fighting back for our freedom — and their lies continued when they claimed to have “cleansed” the Great North American Nature Preserve of all human beings. They still pretend they were able to resettle everyone from across the whole breadth of middle America, creating those two heavily populated corridors, making one giant city up and down each coast.

> Read the previous Chronicles at the bottom of this post.

I was born in Kansas, went to school in Indiana, and worked for a while in Nebraska before I found my job in New York City. Then we heard about the Great Resettlement emptying those and so many other states of people — turning the large middle portion of America into a “human-free zone,” the gigantic Great North American Nature Preserve. 

I was broken-hearted over all the people I could no longer locate and missed the towns and cities I once loved. But of course, no one was allowed to talk about the Great Resettlement except to praise it and to dutifully repeat its motto, “To protect nature from us and us from nature for all time.” 

My discovery of the truth about Fly Over was miraculous for me, but tragically not for anyone else who was with me. 

Our plane from New York to LA lost altitude over Fly Over and began falling well below the required 40,000 feet. As we got nearer to Earth, I could see fires twinkling in the night — large campfires scattered at some distance from each other — and realized there must be people down there. Other passengers saw them, too, and it made such a buzz in the airplane that, for an instant, we forgot our plane was running into difficulties.   

Lights in the plane started blinking red, a buzzer went off, and the pilot shouted on the intercom, “Brace yourselves.” The plane went into a terrifying dive, all of us smashing face down into the seats in front of us. The pilot’s last words were, “They put us into self-destruct mode; I’m fighting it.”

The plane began pulling up. But it was too late. The next thing I knew, I was coming awake, still strapped in my seat with no airplane around me. Underwater, very cold water, with nothing around me, I was slowly rising to the surface. I thought I glimpsed pieces of the plane falling away from me into the dark abyss, but who knows. I’m a swimmer, my lungs are strong, and I kept struggling up and up and finally burst from the surface of the water, gasping. 

The surface was glimmering as if the crash had sent flecks of gold, tiny flares, to light up our escape, but it was the moon and a breeze rippling the otherwise smooth surface. No one else was there. I waited for heads to bob up, a least one head, please God, like the woman who was sitting next to me. Or a flight attendant. Or the pilot. 

Occasionally something surfaced, but it was always debris.  

Must have been 200 or more people aboard, and none of them were coming up. None of them came up. 

I was having trouble staying conscious. My scalp was bleeding down my face. My leg was probably broken because I couldn’t make it kick without a lot of pain. I figured I was going to die alone in some lake in Fly Over, the place where humans no longer exist.  

Someone was pulling me by the back of my chair. We were gliding steadily through the water, me and my seat, as I passed out. Maybe from blood loss and exhaustion. The pain. But I remember thinking, “This is a near-death experience.” It wasn’t; it was a near-to-life experience. One of the people of Fly Over was pulling me to shore.

I was carried a short distance to a band of people gathered in a grove of trees near one of those enormous campfires. I was quickly told that it was not safe to stay another second because the helicopters with their drones would be coming to make sure everyone in the crash was dead. And if they weren’t dead, they would kill them along with us. 

We had to start moving. And before I could explain I was too weak to move, and my leg was broken, I was lifted onto an aluminum canvas stretcher, an elastic support placed around my leg, a wrap of medical gauze around my head to stop the bleeding — and I was being carried along with the group at what seemed like nearly a trot into the darkness.

That’s how I met my band of Fly Overs and was welcomed into Fly Over, USA. 

These scattered groups of humans in Fly Over — I wish I knew how many of us there are. We’re always on the move. If we try to settle in one place, the drones will annihilate us. Everyone in our particular band carries a Mylar safety blanket — must have been a warehouse full of them left behind — and we huddle under them periodically or if we sense an intrusion from the sky and we’re caught in the open. It’s said they cannot detect us under them.  

At least, it works for hunting because the deer, antelope, or buffalo get curious and come to see what’s going on, all those funny-looking shiny lumps trying to hold still, and we can easily kill one of them to feed all of us. Myself, I think these little tents attract attention, and we shouldn’t be using them. Everyone and every group have different ideas about avoiding “the eyes in the sky.” Much of our daily life is about avoiding surveillance, but in some ways, that’s not so different than it was when I lived in New York City. 

All the bands I’ve encountered are extended families, and most carry a family name. I’m not saying mine, but it’s about 30 people, mostly connected by blood or marriage, but some like me were picked up along the way and welcomed. We have a guy who parachuted in not long before I arrived. They say he jumped from a helicopter that kept on flying away. His name is Jake, and he’s young enough to be my son, maybe mid-twenties. Jake doesn’t talk much, but there’s talk about him that he’s from some kind of notorious family.  

You know how some people are? You just look at them, and there’s a determination about them, something steel-like inside, something not to mess with but not to fear either, something to respect. That’s what Jake is like. 

Having lived in Great Reset America, I can tell you that hardly anyone is anything like him anymore. Maybe the elite, whoever they are, but I never met any of them. But here in Fly Over, USA, most people have that something you can sense or see about them, a spiritual backbone, but not many have as much as Jake.

Maybe you’ve guessed it. We have to live a lot like hunter-gatherers. We have returned to our human roots.  

There’s no lack of modern weapons, though, so we don’t need spears or bows and arrows, but we have a few men who volunteer to practice with and use the bow and arrow and even spears. It’s for hunting when we need to move in silence without the flash bang of guns that can be picked up by sensors circling the sky. I cannot give out too much geographical information, but there’s plenty of amazingly fresh water and lots to eat from abandoned fields and orchards and from nature. Sometimes we find a “prepper” abandoned home in an isolated place, and it may have cans of food and dry goods that seem to last for years. Most of the preppers have joined the bands; it’s a much better quality of life with us. And lots of fresh food. We’re all preppers now. 

I’ll tell you this story that happened just a little bit after Jake arrived. I wasn’t even fully recovered yet. One day, in broad daylight, which never happened before, they sent in one of their forays; we think they call them “Kill and Fly Out Operations.” Maybe they were looking for Jake to rescue him or to kill him. They miscalculated, must have thought we were in a grove of trees not far away, and they came down practically on top of us where we were taking cover and resting amid some huge boulders and scrubby trees.  

Our guy Jake had a hand-held rocket launcher he brought with him. In those days, shortly after he arrived, he always carried it instead of putting it on one of our pack horses. Anyway, with one shot, Jake took out the first helicopter seconds before it touched down, and with small arms up close, a dozen guns from our group destroyed the other copter seconds later on the ground. I don’t think a single soldier got more than a few steps out their exit door.

We took some casualties without losing anyone. And then we just kept moving as fast as we could. We’re all very fast walkers when we need to be, and some of us can run down rabbits. Even the children and the old people were good walkers, but we were moving so fast, that we had to put some of the very old and very young people and a couple of wounded casualties onto stretchers. We carried them along, four people to a stretcher, the way they carried me my first few days.   

No, we don’t use vehicles. Not even metal bicycles, although some have tried to make wooden bikes, not very successfully. They can track metal, especially if it’s moving, and hot engines and their exhaust are detectible. I think I mentioned we are even cautious about how we use gasoline engines as generators for short periods of time. Some of us even wrap stuff around our metal weapons, but no one really knows what they can or can’t detect beyond moving vehicles or groups of closely packed people. 

We used to make fires at night because, for some unknown reason, the raiders never attacked them. I felt so strongly about how easily the fires were spotted from the air that I convinced our group to stop doing it. It meant we could only build small fires in temporary huts or tents, under thick trees, or in caves. People grumbled at me almost every night until almost every fire throughout Fly Over was simultaneously struck by drone rockets, killing untold numbers of us. They had trapped us by lulling so many into enjoying the fires.  

After our firefight with the Kill and Fly Out Operation, we kept going for two and a half days until we reached the familiar hills with caves and felt safer. We felt festive and relaxed. Some of us were taking in the sunset that was sinking like a burning globe. That’s when it happened. I don’t know why it took them a few days to retaliate — but maybe they had to make sure that there were no survivors from the two helicopter crews to rescue on the ground. It also might have taken some time to plan the delivery of so much ordinance. 

Anyway, we were sitting there, facing the direction we had come from, the sun almost below the horizon, and maybe thirty miles away, the skyline, sun and all, was obliterated — the sky and the ground came together like one broiling wall of fire. They incinerated, I don’t know how many hundreds or thousands of acres. It was like an enormous rage at all of us who live free in Fly Over. And a celebration by their Military-Industrial Empire, who must have made a fortune off that one display of firepower.  

I’ll tell you something I have never shared before. The next morning when the sun came up, I was relieved to see it hadn’t exploded. Stupid, huh? But not if you had seen what I saw.

None of us were hurt at that distance, and we could only hope that we had spread the word well enough so that the area was empty of Fly Overs when they unleashed fires of hell on us. 

So that’s what it’s like in Fly Over Land.

No, it’s not really much like that. Hardly ever. It’s just another of those stories I seem to want to tell. Mostly, Fly Over, USA is the most peaceful place on Earth. None of the bands ever attack each other, and it would be pretty stupid to do so because you never know what kinds of weapons the other group might have scavenged or engineered from parts. Every group has handguns, shotguns, and hunting rifles, and some have automatic weapons. Then there are people like our guy who downed the helicopter, Jake, who brought his own rocket launcher with him. 

Yes, they gave me a gun, any kind I wanted, as soon as I was fully recovered and accustomed to being with them. I’ve never had anything to do with guns, so they encouraged me to choose a revolver — a high-power “six-shooter” with a long barrel — and taught me to use it. I was given food until I regained my strength after the airplane crash, and now, with the 357 magnum revolver, I am able to take down antelope, deer, and goats and have become good at it. I developed a circle of families with whom I share meat, and they share their gatherings with me, and even throw in some of their meat from time to time. At some point, I’ll have to get a rifle or shotgun to hunt more effectively, and to be a better defender, but nobody has leaned on me about it. They seem pretty amazed at what I can do with a handgun. Since everyone else primarily uses a long gun, maybe they think it might come in handy someday to have a guy who’s good with a handgun. 

The group makes sure everyone gets enough to eat, but no, it’s not topdown socialism or communism where the elite runs things, and lots of other people starve. If one or more hunters make a kill, they split it up among themselves, and you also get to keep anything small enough to kill on your own or to gather on your own. But then you share, because you want to give to others, even those who aren’t family, and you want people to help you if you need it sometime. Everyone pitches in. It’s just the way it is. It’s expected that you pitch into your ability, and so people do. It’s incredibly satisfying.  

We do set limits on each other sometimes. I’ve seen guys with hand grenades, but we don’t allow them in our group. Too likely to blow us up rather than anyone else. I know one group that lives in that complex of caves, and you won’t believe — and I’m not telling — what kind of weapons they have hidden there to roll out if they are attacked by Great Reset America. Stuff you never read or heard about. 

We got some new weapons from the Kill and Fly Out team we destroyed, but most of our weapons we take from hiding places in abandoned homes and from stores and from fighting with the government long before I got here. We’ve also traded weapons with other groups. And most of the people who live here grew up here, and some were born here after the Great Resettlement and were given guns as children. I think we already have enough guns to last forever, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some people have stashes of them hidden away from years ago.

So, if you’re part of one of those Kill and Fly Out Operations, maybe it would be safer for you to stay home. Yeah, make-believe we don’t exist. We want to live in peace, but I’ve never met a Fly Over who was a pacifist, and a lot of us have some of that steel in our backbones I was telling you about. 

But life here is not about all this fighting and weapons. I just thought it was important to let you know we can defend ourselves. Your elites may laugh, but you really have nothing to offer us in your miserable cities. Here in Fly Over, it’s really about people living together and relying on each other and taking care of each other as we did for a million years or more as hunter-gatherers. 

Oh, racism! I know you think we have race wars and hate each other. In Great Reset America, we’re taught racism is genetic. Frankly, all that disappeared when we got cut off from communications with Great Reset America. No more agitation and propaganda about hating each other — we’re in it together in Fly Over, USA. 

There are some mostly black groups, and just by numbers in most places, there are more mostly white groups, but the races intermarry without much fanfare, and in some groups, you can’t even tell if it’s mostly white or black. And we’ve got Asians, too, and a surprising number of Native Americans, even a whole tribe, I’ve heard. It’s just not the issue it used to be. And I’ll tell you something; it’s not so good for black people on the coasts in Great Reset America.  

Most of the blacks are penned up in “ghettos” that are more like concentration camps. Periodically we’ll find and take in escapees, like the slaves who fled to the North before the Civil War, but it’s hard to get across the borders into Fly Over. Just like in the old USSR, you may have read about it; they shoot people who try to get across their borders to freedom.

I heard that one black man had to leave his family to escape because they were “purging” all ex-military who were still patriotic. He was welcomed into a mixed-race group of Fly Overs that already had some ex-military members. They made a raid across the border and brought the man’s family to safety in Fly Over, along with a few other black patriots and their families.   

There’s more than enough land for all of us. I’m a bit of a historian, and I can tell you that’s how it was for all of us before 10 or 11 thousand years ago when we started living in villages to grow food and raise animals. Then we settled into large communities — towns and cities — and that’s when the real fighting and jockeying for power among humans started. The towns and cities put up walls for protection, and soon the first empires were created and maintained by great armies — and it’s been going on forever since then. But those of us in Fly Over, USA, are living as we were intended in large families, and some friends, but with a lot of extra advantages scavenged from this once great “civilization.” We wouldn’t rebuild it even if we were allowed to. At least, I hope we wouldn’t…

Have you had any other reports out of Fly Over? I’ll try to get you some more of mine. I don’t think they can track me, but still, please, be careful with whom you share this report or any others you get from the people in Fly Over. We do have computers and, no, we don’t carry them around with us, even though some of them hardly weigh anything. That would be like carrying a tracking device. And we don’t have much use for them, except for writing or making designs, creative kinds of things, because communications are cut off from the outside world. Amazing how they did that.  

But some geeks are getting messages through to the outer world, and they are also working on communications among ourselves with computers, but again, it’s hard to know if that won’t make us too easily detected. But if you’re crazy enough, like me, computers are still the best way of trying to get a message out on what used to be called the internet and now is the People’s Global Net, just not for people like us.  

I don’t know if my report will get out of here, but I sure do like writing. I’ve written this whole thing in a few hours — well, quite a bit more than that before I got it right — and did it on a computer owned by a guy I know who’s a real computer geek. Not a hand typewriter, or even an electric one, but a computer! Our geek is good at fixing and maintaining them, and it’s easy to find replacement parts in deserted homes and businesses. He’s even built some from scratch. He moves around a lot, afraid to stay in one place too long, especially with people like me trying to transmit messages. He’s promised to always try to tell me where he’s going next so I can find him every couple of weeks.  

No, he doesn’t have electricity. No one has electricity. We have all kinds of generators that run on wood or sun power, and gasoline stoves for generators are commonplace. There’s so much gasoline left behind, and so little is used, I don’t think we’ll ever run out. But the gasoline stoves are usually fired up under heavy cover like thick trees or a cave entrance. No, no one stays in the towns, even for temporary cover, because Great Reset America is focused on them would obliterate the first signs of human life. In fact, the abandoned cities are loaded with mines and also with detectors. Occasionally, someone gets desperate to see the inside of their hometown or city again, or maybe wants to steal something, and gets blown up, gassed, electrocuted, or otherwise technologically destroyed.  

I brought my computer geek a couple of prairie chickens and even cooked them for him. These tasty birds used to be endangered, I’m told, but the government was right about one thing, the animals are surely doing well without so many of us around and no industries to slaughter or otherwise abuse them. The milk cows are adjusting to taking care of themselves in the fields, and they’re still so docile that, with a little effort and a few people to hold one still, you can milk them. But you might have to compete with a calf or two. No kidding. And don’t try to find me by looking for places where there are prairie chickens. Endangered? Hell, no. They have spread everywhere. So have the milk cows. Someone said they saw a flock of passenger pigeons roosting in an empty barn. That would be something special. 

There are horses, depending on where you live, but none of our bands are mainly on horseback like the old plains Indians. We’re always moving as a family, so horses are used mainly to help us carry stuff or for scouting. We really appreciate them and never overburdened them. There are lots of dogs, every band has some of them hanging out with them, but it’s funny how the pedigrees are disappearing into one hardy mongrel. There is one exception, though; Yorkshire Terriers, Yorkies that weigh only a few pounds, are prized by women without small children who love to carry them in slings wherever they go. Someday I’ll write a whole report about what those little beings do for us. 

Not many cats are domesticated. I don’t know why, and they sure are wild and not to be messed with. It’s hard to believe anyone ever kept them for pets.

I’ve got a lot more to tell you about life in the so-called Great North American Nature Preserve, but I’ve got to finish for now. Please remember this: If they are flying your plane so high that you cannot see the ground, you’re probably in the airspace over Fly Over, USA — and we are here, lots and lots of us, and we welcome you.

To be continued.

Read the previous Chronicles:

1 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 1: “Good Job, X-i-41520-Y10”
2 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 2: Threads of Truth
3 – 
The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 3: First Images of a Pixilated Woman
4 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 4: Yes, Fear This “Thing”
5 – 
The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 5: I Disappeared Myself Into Madness
6 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 6: Breaking Through The Shackles
7 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 7: A Political Prisoner in the Land of the Free!
8 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 8: Not a Single Sign of Him After January 6
9 – The Elon-12 Chronicles, No. 9: The Press Conference from Hell


These anonymous Elon-12 Chronicles are being actively extracted from heavily encrypted and somewhat corrupted files hacked from a federal site maintained by Homeland Security.

As we all know, Elon-12 implants and other technology not only empowered the human brain with AI, but also changed the human experience of time and reality. If these chronicles seem to come from the remote past, they could as easily have originated in the future, or both. Because of how Elon-12 reshaped our sense of reality—physical, psychological, moral, and spiritual—we can only hope that our brains, if not more advanced as planned, can at least be restored to a semblance of wholeness.

With the hope of reclaiming our individual integrity, we dedicate our work on these documents to humanity. To protect our mission, we must, like the as-yet-unidentified author of the chronicles, remain anonymous.

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