Transcripts:
My name is Jacob Green and the story I'm about to tell is not a conspiracy theory. It's a testimony, a record of what I heard, what I saw, and what I was forced to forget. It all began on May 14th, 2018 at precisely 3:12 a.m. I was 40 m deep beneath St.
Peter's Basilica in a damp concrete service tunnel designated on the engineering maps as corridor T9. Officially, I was a senior geoysicist, part of a team hired by the Fabrica de Sanpietro, the office that manages the Basilica's maintenance to conduct a high precision seismographic survey.
The pretext was to monitor the structural stability of the ancient foundations, especially in the area of the Vatican necropolis, the famous Scarvi. It was a prestigious job, but it was strange from the very beginning. The contract, which I signed on January 11th, 2018, was a tangle of non-disclosure clauses, the likes of which I had never seen in my 20-year career. Clause 14B, for example, specifically prohibited the use of any wideband audio recording equipment, allowing only our ultra- low-frequency seismographs.
My boss at the time, William Ramirez, a pragmatic man who only cared about deadlines and paychecks, said it was just Vatican bureaucracy. He was wrong. In the early hours of that morning, I was alone at the temporary monitoring station we had set up, a small chamber of metal and plastic at the end of corridor T9. It was my shift. The rest of the team was asleep in a makeshift lodging near the exit.
The air was cold and smelled of damp stone and ozone from the electronic equipment. The only sound was the constant hum of the servers and the rhythmic drip of seeping water somewhere in the dark. My eyes were fixed on the main screen, a 27in monitor displaying the cascading data from the eight geophones we had installed at strategic points in the necropolis. And that's when it happened.
One of the sensors, Geophone 7, positioned directly below what the tour guides call St. Peter's tomb, began to register an anomaly. It wasn't a tremor. I had seen hundreds of tremors from imperceptible microquakes to largecale earthquakes. This was different. It was a pulse, a perfectly regular wave with a frequency of 1.
77 hertz, a complex mathematical pattern that nature simply doesn't produce. It was artificial. It was intelligent. I leaned closer, my heart starting to beat a little faster. I ran a diagnostic on Geophone 7. It was functioning perfectly. The calibration was correct. The signal wasn't interference from our own equipment.
I isolated the frequencies and the pulse remained clean and clear like a heartbeat in the middle of white noise. I initiated the recording protocol, saving the raw data stream to an encrypted external hard drive, a personal precaution I always took against company policy. For 27 minutes, the signal continued, repeating the same complex pattern of pulses and pauses. It was a language.
I had no doubt about it. My scientist's mind tried to find a logical explanation, an unknown subway line, a secret military installation, some underground communication equipment. But we were under the Vatican. The blueprints they gave us showed only solid rock, ancient tombs, and Roman foundations below us. There was nothing else there.
At 3:39 a.m., the signal stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The silence that followed was more unsettling than the sound itself. I knew I had stumbled upon something I wasn't supposed to. I remembered a conversation I'd overheard a few weeks earlier on April 28th, 2018. I was in the temporary cafeteria, and two men in clerical robes, whom I'd never seen before, were talking in low voices near the coffee machine.
One of them, older, mentioned the silence of the cousto and how it was worrying. The other, younger, replied something about the calibration running out. At the time, I paid it no mind. I thought they were talking about some piece of church equipment. Now those words echoed in my head.
Custo Latin it means guardian or watchman. What were they guarding down there? I spent the next few hours working frantically on my personal laptop trying to analyze the signal. I used pattern analysis software I had developed myself for my PhD. The program transformed seismic data into visual representations. What appeared on the screen chilled me to the bone. They weren't just random pulses.
They were data structures. There was repetition, syntax. It was a stream of encoded information. I didn't have the key. I didn't have the Rosetta Stone to decipher it. But I could see the complexity, the intelligence behind it. It was like looking at a page of a book written in Chinese without knowing the language.
You don't understand the words, but you recognize that a language is there. The next day, May 15th, 2018, around 10h a.m., I made the biggest mistake of my life. I followed protocol. I reported the anomaly to William Ramirez. I showed him the data, the regularity of the pulse, the mathematical structure. He stared at the graphs with a blank expression for a moment, then his face hardened.
It's interference, Jacob, he said without conviction. Probably from the Metro Aine. Delete the data and recalibrate Geophone 7. I argued. I showed him that the frequency was incompatible with any known source of urban noise. I explained that the complexity of the signal was unprecedented. He cut me off.
The order came from on high. The client wants us to disregard these readings. Forget about it. It's just noise. On high didn't mean our company. It meant the Vatican. Later that day, a man I had never seen before appeared at our monitoring station. He didn't wear a cassak, but a dark, expensive suit.
He introduced himself as Monsenior Robert Perez from the Governorate. He didn't speak to me, only to William. I saw them talking in low voices a few feet away. Perez pointed to my terminal. William nodded. A few minutes later, William came to me and asked for the main hard drive where the night shift's data was stored. He said it was for a progress report. I handed it over, but I didn't mention my personal backup copy.
That small act of disobedience saved my life and destroyed it at the same time. But that was nothing compared to what was coming. What I discovered next would change not only what I knew about faith and power, but what I knew about the very history of humanity. That recording wasn't noise. It was a voice.
And it had been trapped beneath Rome for thousands of years. And that night, for the first time in a very long time, it spoke. And what it said wasn't a prayer nor a prophecy. It was a warning. A warning about the end of us all. and I was the only one who had the proof. The week following my discovery was an exercise in mounting paranoia.
On May 18th, 2018, 3 days after reporting the anomaly, my company issued work laptop suffered a catastrophic system failure during the night. Our team's technician, a young man named Joshua Baker, said he'd never seen anything like it. The hard drive was completely wiped as if it had been subjected to a highintensity electromagnetic pulse.
All my files, my preliminary analyses of the signal, everything was gone. Fortunately, the external hard drive with the original data copy was in my jacket pocket. At that moment, I understood it wasn't an accident. Someone was covering their tracks. I started to feel watched. On May 21st, as I was walking back to my small rented apartment near Truste, I noticed a black sedan, a Lancia Tema with tinted windows parked across the street.
I didn't think much of it, but the next day, May 22nd, it was there again on a different street, two blocks from my usual route to work. I started taking detours, ducking into shops, and leaving through back doors. The car kept appearing. They weren't being subtle. They wanted me to know I was being watched. The pressure at work became unbearable.
William Ramirez assigned me to mundane tasks, equipment calibration, and maintenance far from the main monitoring console. He isolated me. Monsenior Robert Perez began making daily visits to our site, always observing me from a distance with his cold, calculating eyes. He never spoke to me, but his presence was a silent threat. I knew I had to understand what was happening and fast. I needed help.
That's when I remembered a name I'd seen in the technical annexes of our contract with the Vatican, Dr. Samuel Campbell. He was listed as a historical consultant in the project's initial phases in 2017, but his name had been crossed out and replaced with another. Out of curiosity at the time, I had looked him up.
What I found was both fascinating and troubling. Dr. Campbell was a former historian and paleo linguist from the Vatican secret archives itself. A genius who spoke a dozen ancient languages including Aadian and Sumerian. He had been excommunicated in 2012 for heresy and academic insubordination.
The official story was that he had published unauthorized papers contradicting church doctrine on pre-Christian history. The truth, as I was about to discover, was far more dangerous. It took me almost a week to find him. He was living as a recluse using a false name. I got his address through a contact of mine, a hacker named Frank Allen Jones, whom I paid in cryptocurrency to scour old university and Vatican records.
On May 29th, 2018, I knocked on the door of a modest apartment in the Monte Sacro neighborhood. The guy doctor was opened by a man in his 70s with disheveled white hair, bright suspicious blue eyes, and the smell of old books and tobacco clinging to him. It was Samuel Campbell. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly in Italian. I answered in English. "Dr. Campbell, my name is Jacob Green.
I need your help. I think I found what you were looking for. The suspicion in his eyes gave way to a flicker of shock and fear. He pulled me inside and locked the door. The apartment was a chaos of books, papers, and maps.
He led me to his living room where the walls were covered in notes, diagrams, and photocopies of ancient texts. He poured me a glass of whiskey and said, "Start from the beginning." I told him everything about my work, the signal, the frequency, the pattern, William Ramirez's reaction, Monscior Perez, the surveillance. As I spoke, he listened in silence, his face growing paler and paler. When I finished, he stood up and went to a locked steel cabinet.
He opened it and took out a worn leather folder. From inside, he pulled out a document. It was a highquality photocopy of a parchment page written in medieval Latin. "Do you know what this is, Mr. Green?" he asked. I shook my head. "This is a page from an uncataloged papal bull issued by Pope Sixstus IV in 1478. Its name is Dustoto subterranean on the subterranean guardian.
" He showed me the copy. The text was dense, but a stamp was visible in the lower corner. Archyam secretum Vaticanum index aa arm Augustate 1733. It was a real reference number from the secret archives. This bull Campbell continued describes the rediscovery during the excavations for the old St. Peter's Basilica of a containment chamber of unknown origin.
Inside they found something they couldn't comprehend. Something alive but not in any terms we would understand. They described it as an angel of impossible geometry imprisoned in vitrified rock. The bull orders the creation of a secret society within the church to study and watch over this entity.
The name of the society, the custodes fed, the guardians of the faith. My blood ran cold. Custo, I whispered. The name I had heard the clerics mention. Exactly, Campbell said. I discovered this bull by accident in 2010. When I started investigating cross-referencing it with other texts, I realized the custoday wasn't just some historical footnote.
They still existed and they were extremely powerful. They control and uh entire secret section of the Vatican. I believe the man you met, Monscior Perez, is one of them. and their leader is a man named Cardinal Edward Hall, prefect of the congregation for the doctrine of the faith. A man who believes the end justifies any means.
Campbell explained that according to his research, the entity or the angel, as they called it, had remained dormant for centuries. He theorized that it communicated in some way, but that the church had lost the ability to hear it. They excommunicated me because I was getting too close to the truth.
They didn't want the world to know that the foundation of their faith is literally built upon something they don't understand and cannot control. He looked at me, his eyes intense. Mr. Green, the signal you picked up, you didn't hear interference. You heard the entity. After centuries of silence, it's speaking again. And the custod's feday is terrified.
The question is, what is it saying? At that moment, I handed him my external hard drive. Let's find out, I said. But that document was only the surface. What was filed away in the room next to Campbell's office in his personal archives would reveal connections that went far beyond the Vatican, involving governments, scientists, and a secret kept for more than five centuries.
The alliance between me and Samuel Campbell was forged that night, May 29th, 2018, over cheap whiskey and centuries old secrets. He had the historical and contextual knowledge. I had the hard proof and the technical skill. Together, we were the only chance to expose the truth. Our first objective was clear. We needed a clean, complete recording of the signal. My 27-minute recording was proof of concept, but it was incomplete.
We needed more. The problem was that I had been removed from the main console, and security around corridor T9 had been visibly tightened. Going back there was impossible. We needed a new plan. If we can't get to the sensor, we have to get a new sensor to it, I said, spreading the engineering blueprints of the site on Campbell's table, one they don't know about.
Over the next few days, we turned Campbell's apartment into a clandestine operations center. While I designed a new listening device, Campbell delved into his archives, trying to find a weakness we could exploit. Our small victory came on June 2nd, 2018. Campbell found notes from a former curator of the Vatican museums dated 1974.
The notes described an old ventilation duct sealed during renovations in the 1950s that connected one of the basement storage rooms of the Pio Clementine Museum directly to a section of the necropolis just a few meters from where our geophone 7 was positioned. It was marked on the old maps as air duct 4 gamma. If we could reopen it, we could run a cable and place a new sensor.
Meanwhile, I worked on the device. I used parts I bought with cash from different electronic stores all over Rome. I built a highly sensitive miniature quartz crystal geophone connected to a low power radio transmitter. The signal would be encrypted and broadcast to a receiver I would keep with me. It was risky, but it was our only option. The second challenge was access.
The Pio Clementine Museum was off limits to me, but not to Campbell's knowledge. He knew security was laxer during the Vatican jeares night shift change between 1:45 and 2 oz. He also knew of a service door at the back of the court deopΓ±ena that was often left unlocked by an older negligent guard. We needed more information.
We needed to get inside the Vatican's internal network. And that's where Frank Allen Jones, my hacker contact, came in again. On June 5th, 2018, I sent him a new task. Find a vulnerability in the Vatican network. 2 days later, he replied. He'd found a way in.
The Wi-Fi system used by the Swiss guards in their barracks near the Porto Santana had a security flaw in an old authentication protocol. It was our door. On the night of pay June 8th, 2018, I sat in a cafe with free Wi-Fi on the Via dela Consiliat with a clear view of the barracks. It took me 3 hours, but I got in. I was inside the governorit's internal network. What we found was a treasure trove.
Using keywords Campbell gave me, custo signal, containment protocol, geoysical anomaly, we began to search the email servers. We found an exchange between Cardinal Edward Hall and Mancinior Robert Perez dated May 16th, 2018, the day after I had reported the anomaly. The email reference number PAF SEK 004208 was chilling.
Hall wrote, "The green source has confirmed the transmission event. Silencing protocol has been activated. Erase all data and monitor the source." The silence of the Kustas is paramount. We cannot allow the message to spread. Not yet. They knew. They weren't just hiding something. They were actively suppressing a message.
Another document we found was an internal memo from the custoday dated July 12th, 1983. It bore the red stamp secretum pontificium and was signed by three cardinals, one of whom was the then cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. The document refsc0947 [Music] discussed a minor emission fluctuation from the asset and authorized an increase in the budget for the maintenance of the electromagnetic containment shield.
They had a name for the entity, the asset, and they were using technology to keep it silent. Armed with this new information, we planned our infiltration for the night of June 12th, 2018. Everything went according to plan. We got in through the service door, navigated the dark museum corridors using Campbell's blueprints, and found the storage room. The entrance to the duct was hidden behind a heavy metal shelf.
It took us nearly an hour to move it and break the plaster seal. The duct was tight and full of dust, but it was passable. I crawled through the 40 m of darkness with the sensor and cable until I reached the great overlooking the necropolis. From there, I managed to lower the sensor into a crevice in the rock less than 5 m from the original signal source.
I returned, we resealed the duct, and we left without being detected. The next day, June 13th, 2018, back in Campbell's apartment, we switched on the receiver. For hours there was only the silence of the Roman underground. And then at 7:41 p.m. it returned. The same pulse, the same 1.
77 hertz frequency, but this time it was stronger, clearer, and it continued. For hours, we recorded everything. In the days that followed, Campbell and I worked nonstop to decipher the message. I used my algorithms to break the mathematical encoding, transforming the pulses into data blocks. Campbell with his knowledge of ancient linguistic structures began to find patterns resembling protosumerian languages.
It was a combination of advanced mathematics, astronomy, genetics, and history. It was a manual, a record, and a warning. The entity was not an angel in the religious sense. It was an archive, a repository of data from a civilization that existed on Earth millions of years ago. And the message it was broadcasting was the story of its own end and ours.
On June 18th, 2018, we translated the first coherent section of the message. It wasn't a vague prophecy. It was data, astronomical coordinates, predictions of solar flares, and the description of a precursor event. The message said that an asteroid swarm from an uncataloged belt would pass dangerously close to Earth, causing specific magnetic and seismic disturbances.
Campbell and I looked at each other, horrified. We went online and searched for astronomy news. And there it was, an article from the European Space Agency dated June 10th, 2018, describing the unexpected flyby of a small group of asteroids. Cluster 2018 GE3, which had passed at half the distance to the moon, causing minor fluctuations in Earth's magnetic field.
The media had barely reported it. Scientists treated it as a curiosity, but for us, it was confirmation. What we had discovered in the recording wasn't just the history of a lost world. It was our future. And the message described in terrifying clinical detail the next stages.
The first step had already happened exactly as the angel had said, and no one besides us knew it was the beginning of the end. The revelation that the first precursor event had already happened changed everything. We were no longer dealing with a theory or a historical secret. We were looking at a timeline. And the clock was ticking.
From June 18th to midepptember 2018, Samuel Campbell and I worked in a feverish state, sleeping in shifts, living on coffee, and the adrenaline of fear. His apartment became a fortress of information. the walls covered with printouts of the angel's data, astronomical charts, and interconnected timelines. The full message, which took us nearly 3 months to decipher, was more terrifying than we could have imagined. It wasn't about a sudden apocalypse.
It was a process, a cosmic and biological cycle that the angel, or the archive, as we came to call it, had recorded several times over eons. The message described how a rare galactic alignment occurring every 75,000 years exposed our solar system to a form of high energy radiation.
This radiation didn't destroy the planet, but it acted as a genetic catalyst. It triggered rapid aggressive mutations in dormant viral and bacterial life forms on Earth while simultaneously degrading the DNA of more complex species like ours. The result was a mass extinction followed by the rise of a new dominant life form. The end of humans wouldn't be with fire, but with fever.
The message provided a precise timeline with markers and precursor events. The asteroid swarm was the first. The second would be a series of deep synchronized earthquakes in geologically unrelated locations. The third, a subtle but measurable change in the composition of the upper atmosphere.
The final date for the start of the biological cascade phase, as the archive called it, was October 22nd, 2024. The plan of the custod's feday became horrifyingly clear. They weren't just hiding the truth to prevent panic. Cardinal Edward Hall and his inner circle believed the message was a divine gift, a tool.
They were using the data to identify locations on Earth that would be less affected. refuge zones and to develop genetic countermeasures. Their goal was not to save humanity, but to select a small fraction of it, to survive and rebuild the world in their image. They were planning to become the gods of the next cycle.
We had the proof, the complete recording of the signal over 300 hours of raw data. Our translation with notes and cross-referenced scientific papers. and most importantly the emails and memos we had stolen from the Vatican network. We found a particularly damning document protocol number PAF Biohouro 1209 dated February 4th, 2019. We had accessed the network again for more recent documents.
It was a progress report from a secret lab in Argentina funded by a front corporation detailing the testing of a genetic shielding therapy on human subjects. The report was addressed directly to Cardinal Hall. They were already acting on it. The custoday realized their security had been breached. The surveillance on me intensified.
On September 15th, 2019, they tried to break into Campbell's apartment. He had installed a rudimentary security system that alerted us. We had to flee, taking only the hard drives and the most critical documents. From that day on, we became digital nomads, moving between European cities, using false identities, and never staying in the same place for more than a few weeks.
It was during this period that we made our final decision. We couldn't fight them alone. We had to leak everything. But not to just anyone. We needed an investigative journalist with the reputation, courage, and resources to verify and publish a story this monumental.
The name we chose was Jonathan Collins, an American journalist known for his exposees on intelligence agencies and state secrets. It took us months to establish a secure communication channel with him. Finally, on January 10th, 2020, we had our first encrypted video call. He was skeptical, as expected, but when we showed him the first snippet of the recording and the memo with Ratzinger's signature, his skepticism turned to interest.
We sent him an initial data packet. He and his team spent the next two months verifying every detail. They hired their own geoysicists to analyze the seismic data. They hired linguists to check Campbell's analysis. They hired forensic experts to authenticate the Vatican documents.
On March 20th, 2020, Collins contacted us again. "It's all real," he said, his face pale on the laptop screen. "My God, it's all real." The publication was coordinated for maximum impact. On April 5th, 2020, the story broke. A series of articles, documentaries, and document dumps was released simultaneously by a consortium of international news organizations led by Collins.
The world woke up to the headline, "The secret beneath the Vatican. Scientists reveal extinction warning and centuries old conspiracy." The chaos was immediate. The Vatican initially denied everything, calling the story sensationalist fiction, but the evidence was overwhelming. The signal recording was analyzed by independent labs worldwide, which confirmed its artificial nature and subterranean origin.
The leaked documents with their verifiable signatures and protocols were undeniable. The greatest proof, however, came on April 11th, 2020. The second precursor event predicted by the archive happened. A series of seven earthquakes magnitude 6.5 or higher occurred within a 24-hour period in locations as desperate as the Fiji Islands, Iran, Chile, and Alaska.
Seismologists worldwide were baffled by the synchronicity and the lack of connecting tectonic plates. But it was all there. In our translation of the angel's message, the Vatican's denial crumbled. The internal and external pressure became immense. On May 2nd, 2020, Pope Francis issued a historic statement. He didn't confirm the story, but he announced the complete restructuring of the congregation for the doctrine of the faith and the retirement for health reasons of Cardinal Edward Hall.
Hall was sent to an isolated monastery in the Alps. Monscior Robert Perez simply vanished. Inside sources said he was last seen entering the embassy of a South American country. The Kustoau's feday had been exposed. Its leader disgraced. But in the midst of the political and religious scandal, something terrible happened.
The world focused on the conspiracy, the secret society, the Vatican coverup. The story became about power and religion. But the message, the message from the archive was almost completely ignored. The media treated it as the delusional belief of a doomsday cult within the church.
The warning about the end of humanity was lost in the noise. They had brought down the messenger but refused to read the message and the timeline continued unimpressed. The fall of Cardinal Hall and the exposure of the custodes fiday were seen by the world as the end of the story. For me, it was just confirmation of our failure. Yes, we exposed a conspiracy.
We destroyed the reputations of powerful men. But our main objective to warn humanity about what was coming failed spectacularly. The narrative that solidified in the public consciousness was that of a political religious thriller. The media delighted in the details of the secret society, the illicit funds, the lab in Argentina.
The angel beneath Rome was relegated to a bizarre footnote, the eccentric catalyst for a very human scandal. The scientists who dared to take the message seriously were ridiculed and marginalized by mainstream academia, accused of alarmism and lending credence to a religious hoax. The world moved on, but the earth did not. The consequences for me and Campbell were permanent.
Thanks to Jonathan Collins and his organization, we were given new identities and funds to disappear. I became Nicholas Rogers, a retired software consultant living in a quiet town in the Pacific Northwest. The life I had known, my career, my family, my friends, was all gone. I became a ghost, haunted by the truth no one wanted to hear. Samuel Campbell wasn't so lucky.
He moved to a small village on the coast of Ireland. On November 17th, 2021, he was found dead in his home. The official cause was a heart attack. He was 74 and a lifelong smoker, so no one questioned it. But I know the truth. In our last conversation, 2 days before he died, he told me he was being followed again. They weren't the same cars, not the same faces, but it was the same method.
The custod's feday wasn't destroyed. It just went deeper underground. They silenced him for good. I lived the following years in a state of perpetual anxiety, watching the news, waiting. Every report of a strange climate anomaly, every mysterious new virus, every small disturbance in the Earth's magnetic field was to me another tick of the clock.
In 2023, the third precursor event happened exactly as the archive had predicted. Scientists at NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, reported an inexplicable and persistent decrease in the density of the ionosphere, a phenomenon that was noted in scientific journals, but never reached the general public. I saw the reports and felt a chill. Our planet's protective shield was weakening.
The stage was being set. And then came October 2024, the month that had haunted my nightmares for 6 years. I watched helpless as the world preoccupied itself with elections, wars, and celebrities. On October 22nd, 2024, nothing spectacular happened. There were no earthquakes, no tsunamis. The sun rose and set like any other day. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to hope.
Maybe we were wrong. Maybe the archive was mistaken, but the message never spoke of a single cataclysmic event. It spoke of the beginning of a biological cascade, a subtle, invisible shift. It started a few weeks later. Small outbreaks of unknown illnesses in remote villages in the Amazon and central Africa.
Reports of mass crop failures due to new types of ultrarresistant fungi. news stories about the erratic and inexplicable behavior of migratory animals. Each report was an isolated event, disconnected to the rest of the world. But to me, it was the pattern forming. The galactic radiation wasn't a bomb. It was a seed, and it had begun to germinate in our world.
The irony is that Hall's organization, or what's left of it, is probably thriving. They have the research, the refugees, the genetic shielding therapy. As the world slowly sickens, they are preparing to inherit the earth. They no longer needed to keep the secret because even when we revealed it, nobody believed the part that mattered. Today, I live a quiet life.
I tend my garden. I read books. I try not to think about the future. But every night, I look up at the sky and I know what's happening. The voice beneath Rome is silent now. It delivered its message, its final record. They fell. The names were exposed. But the structure that allowed it all. The truth they guarded. It just changed its address.
New codes, new protocols, the same intention. They didn't need to silence the angel anymore. We did it for them. We heard, but we did not listen. And that's the story. the truth as I knew it. Do with it what you will. If you've made it this far, thank you for listening. Stories like this need to be told.
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