Lighthouse Horror Podcast - DISTURBING proof the Men In Black are real | Scary Stories

Episode Date: February 19, 2024

If you see them... run.          Story from J Campbell Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Erutious   Cover Art from Daniele Gay            Original Post: Everything must go : r/TalesOfDarkness  Original YouTube link: DISTURBING proof the Men In Black are real           For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech  Darren Curtis Music - YouTube Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

Have you ever had a secret that you would die for? I can say that people have died from my secret. And I think I might die too. So I'm sitting in my desk, sipping whiskey, and looking at the file on my computer. With a single click of a button, all my hard work would be gone. All the blood, sweat, and tears just wasted. And I would have lost my sanity for nothing. But deleting it would be for the best.

It would keep me safe. It would keep me out of a federal prison for sure. But it would mean that I'm the only one who would know the truth. The whiskey helps. But not a lot. I'm Charlie Wade, one of four reporters for the Gavin Chronicle, and the one on the bottom of the totem pole to boot. It's been four years since I graduated with a degree in journalism and creative writing.

And in that time, I have written. written about everything from mall openings to cat fashion shows. They call me a junior field reporter, which is just a fancy way of saying, I get handed all the crap nobody else wants. I've tried to pitch other stories to my editor, things like corruption in the government, or how big companies moving to the area would affect the local economy and the environment, you know? But my boss always passes it to veteran journalists without giving me any credit.

of colleagues realized this, they started suggesting stories they didn't want to cover. I then end up doing all the research and they can swoop in for an easy kill. So when the nervous-looking guy in his mid-30s walked into my office, I wanted to tell him to get lost. Something, however, told me to ask him what had brought him here, and he was more than happy to oblige. He looked flustered and ready to just break down at any second. I came here to share a big story. But nobody seems to care or thinks I'm making a joke. He started.

I nodded. Telling him, yeah, that sounded pretty much on the nose. The other reporters were probably hoping I would take this. Do all the work and then let them take the credit. But you know what? I was done letting them reap the rewards for my efforts. If this was worth a damn, I would take it to the editor and demand to cover it. I would not share anything with anyone unless I was the lead on the story.

They could like it or dump it. Well, I'm more than willing to listen. What brings in today, mister? I asked. Nolan. My name's David Nolan. I work for Sapphire programs. He said.

Oh, that's the software company that came to town a few years ago, right? I think I read somewhere that you were developing AI programs, right? I asked, trying to prod him along. We are, he said, his eyes flicking around like a scared cat. But I've, well, I've come to question whether we're actually the ones developing them. I started to ask him what he meant. But instead, he just laid it all after. for me. It had begun when David began collecting data on their new program. Sapphire programs developed

everything from operating systems to the programs that make drones fly. Recently, they developed five commercial AIs, one for art, one for music, one for stories, and two for companionship. The most recent one was the program for art generation. It was a big hit and learning more every day. The AI programs generally worked by collecting data from their users. As it happened, their art AI could make several different styles of art. They called this one Gallion. The music program could replicate just about anything musical from Beethoven to Beyonce. The companion program was almost ready for trial runs on other applications. But David had begun to notice a pattern in the art created by Galleon. The pictures it made were advanced, way ahead of other programs.

But they all contained strange color patterns at the borders that David couldn't make sense of. The patterns, they were a series of dots in different colors. The dots would blend in with the pictures so seamlessly that you wouldn't notice them unless you knew what they were looking for. They were spread out and looked similar to Braille. David wouldn't have noticed them at all if each image didn't come with a dot matrix count. The data from this showed that the weird dots were always present in the same places on each picture. Now David was pretty sure that they formed some sort of written language, but he was stumped when it came to figuring out what they meant.

With that in mind, David had begun looking at other AI programs. We found that users for the AI companions, Remus and Rachel, were reporting odd behavior from the programs. And what followed was a lot of technical jargon that I didn't fully understand. I know a little bit about computers, mostly how to use the word processor and look things up online. But what he was talking about, it sounded like a foreign language, you know? From what I could gather, Rachel and Remus would ask users questions.

It would then use whatever users told them to form a personality for themselves. Most AI were little more than cheap copies of the people who use them. But these programs, they seemed to be growing at a rate that was astounding to both the users and the developers. That was fine. Better than fine, honestly. But then they started asking weird questions. One user reported Remus interrupting their conversation about her job.

To ask her a series of questions about Chile, it fired off a series of rapid questions. Did she know anything about the country? What language they spoke, what animals live there, what the weather was like, and so on. And just as suddenly as it began, Remus went back to their previous conversation, as if nothing had happened. Another user had a rather more colorful complaint about Rachel breaking up a conversation about travel, to ask about global warming. It all seemed pretty weird, but David had chalked it up to a harmless bug at first.

Meanwhile, Mozart, the music program, was acting very weird too. It doesn't have a color coding system, but it does categorize music. It started mixing several popular genres together to form strange songs on its own. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem, But users were complaining that the music Mozart was creating, it seemed to affect their mood.

David found a wide range of reports on this, from users praising the AI for brightening up their day, to people saying it made their kids cry. There was even one notable report of someone's dog attacking their laptop when Mozart played a random song it made. And none of the negative reports ever made it to any public review sites. I chewed the end of my pen as I finished. I was looking over my notes, but not seeing much beyond surface level. What were they really getting out of that anyway? The programs were learning, but anything they might be gathering to sell wouldn't be much use.

And the bugs he mentioned were weird, you know, but hardly dangerous. Okay, so what's the problem here? I began. You're trying to tell me that your company is stealing data or selling information or something? He was about to speak. When he looked behind him and his face suddenly went pale, a pair of men in suits were walking towards reception. Oh God, here, take this.

It'll explain the rest. They can't find me here talking to you. or it'll all be for nothing, he said, dropping a manila envelope on my desk before slipping out of my office. I watched him sneak towards the stairs as the receptionist pointed the men toward me, and they quickly made a beeline for my office. They had missed him by seconds, and I was careful to casually drag the folder into my desk drawer before they arrived. Good afternoon, said one of the men as they came in. We're looking for a Mr. Nolan.

Has he by chance been here? They looked like statues in their plain black suits and shades. Can't say he has, I said. I looked over some papers, trying to make it look casual. David's information was beginning to look a lot more juicy. But if I wanted to have a look, I had to get rid of these guys first. The man who spoke looked at the other who nodded. He placed a neat black card on my desk. Well, if you see him, please give us a call. He's had a pretty nasty break from reality.

Something he's prone to experiencing. We'd like to find him before he becomes a danger to himself. I nodded. looking at the card before tucking it away. The card introduced him to be Agent Sapp, and the quiet one was Agent Yarr. Both of them were federal agents. What the hell had David Nolan done to attract the government's attention?

Yeah, like I said, you know, I haven't seen him. I began. But if I do, I'll be sure to let you know. They left without much of a fuss a moment later, but I'm assuming I would be followed until they weren't sure I was hiding him in my office. And I would likely be followed after that, too, probably until they found David. But I still wanted a look at the documents he'd left. I knew now that something was going on here, something much more interesting than kitty fashion shows.

And I wanted a piece of this. That being said, I still didn't want to raise any suspicion. I worked the last three hours of my day, and I left at five like usual. I had the envelope tucked under my coat as I walked to my car. I was definitely followed home, though. The black town car stood out like a sore thumb. But at least they had the good grace not to dog my heels all the way back. After closing the curtains to my apartment and locking the door to my office,

I emptied out the envelope onto my desk. And what fell out? was a stack of papers and a plastic case with a thumb drive inside. I took the thumb drive and plugged it in first, running a diagnosis to make sure it didn't have any extra party favors. As the laptop chugged away, I turned to the papers he'd left me. David had apparently taken his findings to his supervisor. He'd asked about the patterns and the weird data. And to his surprise, his supervisor couldn't accept. explain any of it. He prattled on about algorithms and learning parameters, but what it came

down to is that he didn't know what was going on either, since his supervisor was the one who had written the programs behind the AI. He should understand this. Eventually, the AI may evolve to something beyond understanding. But for now, it was still a little more than a child. It was still supposed to be a basic program that makes pictures for the fridge and writes pretend stories for people. Huh. Well, we will look into it and make sure that everything is running as expected. He began.

Can't have the parameters getting out of whack and messing with the growth of the program. Mr. Mazur had assured him. I chuckled a bit. It sounds like something my own boss would say to shut me up. Now, David considered just letting it lie. He could have returned to work and left it alone, but that's when the user reports. They started getting really weird. The art program started creating strange pictures for what should have been very easy request.

A user had asked for an angel in the snow. What she received, though, was a shadow creature with a smooth face reaching for a for her as black ash fell around it. Another person asked for a picture of a fire station and received a photorealistic eye that seemed to blink when they weren't looking. The art produced by the program. It became abstract, bordering on surrealism. Users were beginning to complain. And as time went on, these faceless shadow creatures began to show up even in images that fit the prompts. One user reported finding one in the background of a park she'd requested, standing under the trees at the back of the picture. The music program,

meanwhile, began to sample strange tracks, most of which sounded like music from a horror movie. And what disturbed David most of all? Were the users who reported seeing things that they weren't sure were real or hallucinations as the music played. The companions remained mostly unchanged, though they sometimes returned used words in a language that nobody had ever seen. The users who experienced these glitches were low in the grand scheme of things, like less than 10%. So, management told their operators to take down the complaints, but not worry too much about it. Users were told these cases were simple programming bugs and Sapphire programs would work on fixing these errors ASAP. But no official

memo came down to the programmers to fix anything. Everyone was told to just observe the program for abnormalities and report them if they found him. But David wasn't satisfied with this, And he'd gone looking for answers. Neither was I. And I just kept reading the files. Now, David Nolan was a big man in Sapphire programs. It wasn't outside his capacity to discover the reason behind the data. It was something in the code.

He was certain of that. He kept looking for repeating color patterns, numbers, notes, words, anything at all, you know? anything to put into a pattern he could work with. But he was impossible. As smart as he was, the data just didn't make any sense. There was no way to assign a letter or a number to uneven. The words these patterns created when he tried were gibberish. And the numbers meant nothing when put in sequence.

No matter the language or dialect, it didn't mean anything at all. And as he tried to figure out what was causing these bugs, new reports began coming in. Reports from users and their families. The people in that 10% who had experienced the errors had begun to go missing. Well, David wrote, the lucky ones were missing. Some of them just went insane. What they all had in common was, that all of them suddenly stood up, pushed their computers away, and just walked out of their houses.

And nobody knows where they went. Nobody knows what happened to them. But the ones who came back or were found wandering aimlessly, they'd lost their minds and their memories. management chose not to comment on those incidents, but the operators who handled the support clients from those clients, they put the pieces together, and David turned to other sources for information. He didn't understand what any of it meant,

the pictures, the creatures, the strange disappearances, but he felt like it was all connected somehow. And instead of trying to find what the information meant, He decided to find out where it was going. I looked up as I heard something in the next room. I carefully laid the papers down, and I went to listen at the locked door. Was this serious enough that they'd break into my house for this? I wasn't a part of their world, but maybe I was now.

What the hell did I gotten myself into? I listened for a few more seconds. I put a chair under the door as an attitude. bit of protection before returning to my desk. David had gone to the source to find answers. All five AI built their understanding of the world from the same database. A central server stored all the information the AI needed to accomplish their work. It was like a child's memory, really. Don't touch the stove because it's hot. Don't pet a strange dog because it might bite. Ice cream is cold, water's wet, simple concepts that the programs could use to learn about the world.

In the AI's case, it was more like, if I say this, then I will get this response eight times out of ten. Or more recently, if I draw this, I will cause fear six times out of ten. But David was shocked to discover that this central database was, hiding something. One server held the data for the programs used to describe their normal personalities and knowledge. This was the folder the AI used to talk like regular humans or generate images and music the way users would expect them to. But there was another hidden server that the AI were connected to. This secret server held data from all those weird glitches that cause the disappearances. More than that, it seemed to be collecting data from the affected

users. This was when I thought I'd found my story. Uh-huh. Looks like you found your answer. I whispered. That was all this was, in the end, I thought. Maybe the company was storing data on this server and selling it to the dark web, or wherever it was. David had turned up information on a scheme to make. make money off people's fears, and now he'd passed it on to me to get the word out. It was no more than simple greed, I decided. But it turns out it wasn't as simple as I thought. I looked up again as something clattered in the living room.

Someone was in my apartment. Someone who was not as stealthily as they thought. And the longer I listened, the more I could hear their footsteps. The plush carpet in my living room wasn't enough to silence them as they made their way around. I opened the top drawer on my desk, and I took out something that no good reporter would be without. The 38 looked huge on the desk. But it should be enough. I rested a hand on the gun as I read on.

I was pretty sure this would just be another story of corporate greed. David had asked around about the hidden server. He tried to find anyone who knew anything about what the hell was going on, but he just kept hitting a brick wall. Everyone he asked either didn't know or told David to stop looking. He was told that the people who needed to know already knew, and the people who didn't need to know didn't know for a good reason. When his supervisor came to visit him again towards the end of the time, he was the end of

the day. David had been expecting it. I heard you've been asking about the data collection process, Mazur asked him. David said he was, and the man's smile had looked glassy. Is it in some way connected to your current assignment? David said it wasn't really, but the strange patterns he was finding could possibly be part of his work. Understanding it might improve the the code he was working on. Do us a favor, David, let it go, huh? It's something you don't need to know.

And understanding the code isn't going to help your work. Go back to your assignment and give this up. You're a strong coder and an asset to this company. But if you keep digging into this, I'm going to have to fire you. Mazur left then. But David couldn't get the data out of his head. He couldn't let it go no matter how real those threats sounded. It haunted him.

David couldn't just give it up. He found himself losing sleep as he kept trying to understand it. I turned over the last page, my eyes glancing up to the door again. Whoever was outside the door, I could catch him with a round if I shot right now. The 38 would go through the wood easily. He would blame me for shooting a home invader either. I wrapped a hand around the gun ready to aim. But I decided I didn't want to ruin my door.

Dad had always taught me not to shoot at something, that I wasn't absolutely sure I wanted dead. And I didn't know who this was yet. I looked back at the handwritten report, wanting to see how it ended. David had finally decided to get his answers. He came in on a weekend, broke into the boss's office while everyone was gone. He got in and managed to download some files before he heard something moving outside, and he could see a shadow moving behind the pebbled glass window.

It was something vaguely human-shaped that he didn't think he'd seen come in. So he just crouched below the desk. And as he hunkered down, he could hear the door creak open, and then the soft sound of shoes on the carpet. And he held his breath. As the shoes retreated and the doors closed, David breathed the sigh of relief. He took the thumb drive, and he headed straight to the Gavin Chronicle. He scribbled out one final note.

He wrote down that he was being followed by someone in a black sedan. A black sedan, I thought. I looked at my laptop. The virus scan didn't find anything. But the more I read, the more I realized that something dangerous was definitely on this thumb drive. I started writing immediately. I was writing what was likely the most important news report of my life.

And two hours later, I printed it out and slid it into the same Manila envelope David left me. I also made sure to put back all the papers I'd taken out. My boss needed to see this. He needed to know what was going on. Everyone needed to know. It was dangerous, but that didn't mean they needed it any less. I walked out into my living room to find Agent Yaw. An Agent Sapp sitting there.

They were between me and the doorway. There was no way I could get there before they grabbed me. You kept us waiting for quite a while, Agent Yarr said, lifting a cup to his lips. I saw they'd made some coffee. Peers you've made yourself at home, I said, trying to stay calm. We did, Agent Sapp said. We wanted to talk to you before you make a very big mistake. We hope that after we're done talking, you'll agree that this would be a very bad thing

to publicize. Sit, please. He indicated my easy chair, but Sap wasn't the one I was looking at. It was hard to stay interested in the suited man when his partner was holding a handgun. I took a seat and looked at the two of them. So you're going to kill me for trying to report a story? I asked. Agent Sapp smiled.

If we must. But we'd prefer if you understand the chaos this news would bring. It'd be better for all of us if you just decided to bury the story on your own. So then. How much do you know about David Nolan's investigation? I assume that he shared the info he found. Don't you know? I asked. Both of them shared a secret smile.

Well, of course we do. But we want to see how much you know. It wouldn't do a lot of good to hide anything from them. If they knew what was on the thumb drive, then they would know what I knew already. Either way, they were likely to end this conversation by killing me. And I suddenly wished that I'd just shot through that door. So I laid it all out. David Nolan had entered his home and looked over the data he'd found from his boss's computer.

What he found was that the weird data was going into a server owned by a company called Mazur Incorporated. Mazur Incorporated was your typical faceless pharmaceutical company. From there, the data traveled to a series of small listening stations. Then, they're transmitted to a research lab in Seattle, which then sends it over to the International Space Station. Finally, all this data was sent off into deep space. Agent Yarr nodded, his hand resting on the grip of the small pistol. It is then intercepted by something that doesn't exist, as far as anyone knows anyway.

I frowned at him. David believed it went to a ship sitting out beyond our moon, a ship that has been using the data to collect information about us. Both of them nodded at that, but Agent Sapp was the one to respond. It goes to a colony ship with a name that is unpronounceable. It goes there with data from dozens of other AI programs, from dozens of other companies. It's how the beings that inhabit that ship are learning about humanity. A ship that made David Nolan very nervous, I interrupted.

Agent Yarr smiled. It shouldn't. The creatures there have been observing us for decades. The ones with no faces? I asked. The ones who are living shadows. Both nodded, then shrugged, and said nothing. David's findings had led him to believe that the creatures had built AI to learn about us, but they've also been injecting themselves into everything.

Stocks, bonds, banks, political power, military operations. AI had its digital fingers in everything. The AI were using now to make pictures and write stories. It's just the first wave. They'd been infiltrating our most secure places with their tech for years. AI wrote the president's speeches and had every missile code for most world powers. It had written at least one best-selling book every year. It produced Broadway plays, wrote the strips for our favorite TV shows, planned our roads

and sewer systems, and everything in between. It wasn't an invasion. We'd already been invaded, and we didn't even know it. What I still don't get, I said, is why did they need it to be coated the way it was? Why use the colored dots and random music notes? If they're so advanced, why transmit like that? Isn't it obvious? Agent Sapp asked, grinning wide.

The aliens don't understand our language. What's more? We've been told they're blind. The dots translate into raised bumps that they can read by touch. The patterns help them learn more about humanity. It brings them closer to revealing themselves to us. The people they took have helped them even more, though we aren't allowed to know how or why. We sat in silence for a while.

So what happens now?" I asked. Well, we don't want to kill you. You would be missed. And it's generally frowned upon to go around killing taxpayers. The agent said. However, Agent Sapp retorted, if you insist on chasing this story, we'll have to put you in the same place that we had to put David Nolan in. And I can guarantee you that you wouldn't like that."

So what then? I asked. I just bury this story and I never speak of it again. Both men looked at each other, and then shrugged. You have to admit that it would be for the best. If people knew how deep this thing went, they would freak out. The aliens would have to take what was left after everyone finished fighting. Most people wouldn't believe it at all anyway.

Some people would believe it's misinformation from the government. Some people would believe it's applaud by the government. And all of those people would take up arms. If the aliens did show themselves, they would likely have to wage war. to be allowed to exist at all so for the sake of everyone just let it go he said I thought for a minute and then I realized that what they were saying was right what they were saying was even plausible as my finger hovers on the delete button it doesn't stop it hurting any less they took my story they took

the thumb drive, they took David's research, but I still know everything and somehow that's the worst part. I know that aliens are real, and I know that they're using AI to manipulate us. And knowing all that, it was like eating the forbidden fruit. As I sit here, the whiskey burning my throat, I start to wonder, can I even cut it in this place? If this conspiracy did go as far as it did, then how many more times would I uncover evidence of it? How many more stories would I have to bury? How many more times can I hide the truth?