Love Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw (snow like ashes TXT) 📕

he was called to aSRI office where he signed security pledge forms and was briefed ona highly classified psychic spy program under development for theCIA. He worked part-time until he graduated in architecture, afterwhich he went to work for one of the CIA's classified contractors,known as Power Industry Consultants, or PIC.

He worked on the CIA–sponsored program fortwenty years, spending hours each day perceiving assigned cold-warpsychic targets, the location and activity of people of interest,or the nature of activities in buildings or factories in the SovietUnion. In the book, he was only able to give two examples of hiswork, which had somehow escaped the classification process, todescribe the process.

I closed the book as I heard the jet's flaps godown in preparation for landing.

Dore closed her laptop and said, "Amazing stuffisn't it. The psychic spy program went on for twenty years, andnobody ever heard of it. The contractor Steve worked for had annualincremental funding from the CIA, which meant every year someonehad to justify the program's effectiveness for it to continue. Ourcompany funds startups. We positively don't continue ventures thataren't panning out. Someone high in the Government must have valuedthe program."

I nodded and looked out the window as wedescended to the Palo Alto airport, trying not to reveal myskepticism about this whole turn of events in my life. I was stillmulling over what I had just read.

I saw another black Towne Car waiting by thehangar.

Colson Associates was in a modern butunassuming building, on a slight rise, in an office park surroundedby trees that were leaving-out with spring foliage. One was inbloom with bright pink flowers. The building was finished in brownstained wood and had many windows.

An attractive receptionist sitting at a modernglass-topped table with a laptop looked up and greeted Dore. "Dr.Colson said to send you right in."

We walked into a glass enclosed roomoverlooking a large space, which looked like the waiting rooms inthe private clubs that many airlines had at airports where for anannual fee, or a first-class ticket, you could wait in luxury.Groups of overstuffed maroon chairs sat among carrels, and smalltables filled the room. People sat around the room working on theirlaptops, or clustered in quiet conversation, or talking oncellphones in semi-enclosed soundproofed cubicles. The color schemeof the room was maroon and grey, obviously the product of aninterior design studio. There didn't seem to be any offices. It wasa quiet but somehow busy place.

As we entered the glass room, a man of aboutfifty years old, medium height, slightly balding, salt and pepperblack hair, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs, tapped abutton on his laptop. He closed the lid, looked up, and walked overto us.

Dore said, "David Willard meet Vince Colson."Vince Colson had a very relaxed demeanor, in a blue and whitestripped button-down shirt with no tie, khaki pants, and black,leather-topped running shoes. As we shook hands, I felt as though Iwas going through a security scanner at the airport. With onepiercing look he knew everything about me. I had been 'made'again.

As we sat down at a glass topped table, Doreasked, "Latte, coffee anyone?"

"Latte," I said, as Vince nodded"yes."

Dore texted a message, smiled and said, "Wehave a 'den mother' who operates the coffee bar at the end of thebuilding for everyone. As you can see, we don't have offices here.Everyone, including Vince and I, spends our days in what we callthe 'uncommon area'."

"Is this the Foundation or the VC building?" Iasked.

"Both," said Vince, "Mostly financial activitytakes place here. The accountants keep track of which hat we arewearing by how we log into our laptops. You saw me switch my laptopidentity as you came in. Right now, Dore and I are in theFoundation."

"Could you tell me a little about theFoundation?" I asked.

"I have enjoyed some business success becauseof what I, in my younger years, called 'intuition.' It was a skillI sharpened for evaluating ventures and people. With experience, Ilearned that somehow I could read a lot about people by simplyconcentrating on them and getting a feeling. I also seemed to beable to get a feeling about the probable future of a venturesomeone was pitching. As I investigated, I found there were manypractitioners in other fields that used 'intuition,' such as amedical doctor who could mentally scan a person's body and sensepathologies. It was kind of my private secret for years.

"Then, about a decade ago, a fellow appeared atmy office, saying he was a former member of a highly classified CIApsychic spy program that had been declassified. He claimed he hadrecently been making a killing in the silver futures market: a factI later verified from other sources. I learned about the RemoteSensing CIA spy program and how the ex-spies were offeringconsulting services in many areas. I have used him over time toassess people and evaluate ventures. I use him to produce 'datapoints' that I combine with other information: providing me withanother dot when I am trying to connect the dots, so tospeak.

"I created the Foundation to further explorethe general idea of remote sensing and other forms of unexplainablecommunication or foreknowledge of events. These ideas did not fitany known scientific paradigm. Most scientists would debunk theidea of any kind of ESP phenomena having any validity.

I have been funding academic research to get usa reputable scientific paradigm. The Foundation now has the piecesof one.

"One of our consultants, Steve Manteo, theformer participant of the CIA program I referred to, lives in theSierra Mountains north of Sacramento. Last winter, he was drivinghome when he came upon a Rocky Butte Sheriff's Department searchand rescue operation command post in a roadside diner, coordinatingthe search for a lost girl. He offered his help to find the girl,and the Sheriff just blew him off. He was about to leave, back inhis car, when suddenly he sensed exactly where the girl was, thatshe was very cold, and crying. He took a copy of his book and afolder of credentials he had in the car, documenting his psychicspy CIA experience, including the picture of him and the President,and the letter of his citation for a Congressional Medal, signed bythe Secretary of