← Back to letters04/29/18 But here is the question, when they left, they did not clarify my position since, as it is said, in reality they didn't even say goodbye to me although they almost made it understood. Since I haven't spoken with you, I don't know if you believe all of this or not; surely you don't believe that men come from Ummo, which is a distant planet, because from what I've heard, almost no one who meets and talks with them believes it. It’s logical because I initially thought they were crazy. The story of how I met them is long and one day I will tell it because it was they who came to my house following an announcement we had placed in the press. I managed to find out one of the hotels where they managed to stay. This might be additional proof, although of little importance, because hotels keep records of their clients and although they present themselves under fake names, it will be easy to identify them since there will be chambermaids who spoke with them. I ended up going out with them, very rarely, but I did. I know because they told me that they spent their time visiting museums and buildings in Madrid. One day they asked me for help because they needed to forge a card to enter the periodicals department of the National Library of Madrid, which is located at 3 Zurbarán Street. They told me that of course I could refuse, but they said it would not be immoral because the only purpose was to study a series of foreign magazines. I presented myself at the counter and everything was resolved quickly; the young lady who attended me suspected nothing. Two months before their departure (maybe three, since I didn't note the date), one of them came at dusk (they usually came in the afternoon around 7 PM after I got off work and dictated things to me), but as I wasn't expecting them that day, I got home late, and they were waiting in the dining room. My wife was then suspicious and preferred to speak to them as little as possible. They told me, when I arrived, that they wanted to ask me a favor. It was for them to do a job in an area of Madrid where there could be surveillance, and as they had passports from another country, they wanted to be with a Spaniard, and one of them explained to me what to say if someone asked us an embarrassing question. They gave me a camera and a tripod for the camera and told me I had to wait for them the following afternoon. I remember it was a Saturday and that I wasn't at the office. At 3 o'clock, the taxi had already dropped me off in the small gardens just after the Segovia bridge on the road to Extremadura. They didn't take long to arrive. They were in a gray Renault which I later discovered was a rented car, and I noted the license plate which wouldn't be difficult to track. One of them crossed to the other side of the Manzanares River (this one I didn't know much since he had just arrived from South America), the other was named Daa three and stayed close to me. I set up the camera to pretend to be taking photos, and during that time, Daa three discreetly placed small pieces in different points of the area which I later saw since they were in a thick metal box, full of pink paint. I clearly saw that he was placing them, some by burying them in the ground and others near the iron railing, close to the river, placing them near the stone pillars supporting the railing. The other gentleman then threw two balls into the river which sank. Almost no one passed by and no one bothered us. They asked me to wait for them when he returned from the other side, and they got into the car for half an hour. Daa three then explained to me that these pills the size of a fingernail were radioactive witnesses and served as checkpoints for certain measures, and they explained a little more to me. We crossed the bridge once more and they left me on my Segovia street keeping the camera with them. At the beginning of June when they left, I returned to the small garden that is between the Manzanares River and Manzanares Avenue. We had been just next to the bridge; at the spot where the ramp makes a bend. I searched with a screwdriver in the stone pillars that connect the pieces of the railing and took out one of the pills; I didn’t dare to take it since they had said it was radioactive which can be dangerous. It had a paper stuck on it like plastic, and it was similar to those I had seen, as if a small piece of metal had been painted with pink paint, or mother-of-pearl, or plastic.
Lettre Ummite#842