Mostly they talked with me. Just questions and they’d show me things, like television shows and things, and they’d ask me questions about them. I think the walls measure our reaction to things, too, same as they take X-rays. I don’t know that, but it’s the feeling that I got. They NEVER let you ask questions about what they are doing. Even once I got friendly with a few of them, they just do not like it when you ask them questions. They hate it.
You can’t understand their language. It just sounds like ‘hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.’ I’m positive that we’ll never be able to communicate with them in their language. I should mention that these are the ‘grays’ that you hear about, except they aren’t gray. They are sort of beige, and it’s clothes anyway. They aren’t naked. I don’t know if there are others. People say there are, but I’ve only ever met these. Anyway, you cannot understand them but they can understand you. And they can put thoughts into your head but they can’t hear your thoughts. You have to speak to them. They cannot hear very well, or else they are not good understanding English so you have to speak loudly and slowly. I don’t know if they understand other languages, but I’m pretty sure they would. They are interested in all of us, in everything that goes on. They like a lot of things about our culture, too. They like some of our music. Bluegrass is their favorite so far as I’ve seen. They like it a lot. They LOVE that African instrument that looks like a gourd with 13 strings. LOVE IT. But they cannot stand horns or horn music, so they hate classical music and jazz. I think trumpets sort of sound like their language? It’s a feeling that I get, but I’ve never been able to ask them.
They’ve taken me up just about every two years, I’d say, since 1987. Just about. Sometimes it’s more often, and I didn’t go up at all between 1995 and 2000. They usually keep me for what feels like a day, but it turns out to be about four hours. Usually. The longest I stayed with them was three weeks. During that time, they made me make phone calls and ‘keep up appearances.’ They aren’t really bad…well, I was going to say ‘people.’ But they’re not really bad people. Or whatever.
The two that I got sort of close with told me to call them Jack and Gina. I don’t know if they are male or female or even if they have different sexes. But I know that those aren’t their real names. Those are just names that they told me.