SANDS OF TIME SEAN DAVID MORTON PDF

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Sands of Time - Sean David Morton - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read book online. Sci-Fi. Sands of Time Volume 2 Sean David Morton. Part two of the epic story spanning over forty years in the life of Dr. Ted Humphrey and his involvement with Area. Sands of Time book. Read 3 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. A fictionalized account of black ops and time travel.


Sands Of Time Sean David Morton Pdf

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Sands of Time [Sean David Morton] on tingrakecoupde.tk *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Area 51, aliens, UFOs, time travel, government conspiracies it's all. Sands of Time Volume 1 [Sean David Morton] on tingrakecoupde.tk *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. An Epic story spanning over forty years in the life of Dr. Ted. Sands of Time Volume 1 by Sean David Morton PDF, ePub eBook D0wnl0ad. An Epic story spanning over forty years in the life of Dr. Ted.

It made it easier than I was expecting it to be. He would tell me that he would try to make this one or that one. I played with the lizards and tried to avoid the big rattlers that slithered down the hill to drink from the hose that was always running while he mixed mortar. I was taller than all of my classmates and no one likes the idea of a freshman playing on the Varsity.

And not the cool. He walked into the room in a hounds tooth hat and a checkered sports coat that was ten years out of style and too big for his tall. By the time we moved out to the desert. I hardly spoke to her if ever at all.

Ted did come to one of the awards dinners on a late January evening. The only interesting thing about old Barstow High. We talked on the phone. I lettered my first year and every year after that.

He had someone move our furniture. I had a natural talent. It took weeks to put things away and get organized as the summer slipped away in a haze of blistering heat and a maze of boxes and clutter that slowly took shape into what would be the confines of our existence. It was a Friday night. I got the message. For me. He never yelled at me or beat me. I would go up for a couple of weeks in the summer to see mom in Portland.

Ted never made it to one game in four years. There was no jockeying for social position. I still clearly remember it. But old blood and guts Bender was going to use me as a tailback and no one was going to change his mind. Everyone develops that grinning thousand-yard stare that laughs through a special kind of pain and makes friends easily but is always detached and distant.

I considered moving to Portland with my mom. Never getting too close. When we walked into the house. I need to get these off the table and get back to work. You should go out and have a good time. He turned. There is a paper over on the desk. The other guys were all looking at her and my dad and then over at me.

My work has consumed me over the years. We were there about an hour. He was still standing in jam of the open door holding his keys. Ted looked down at it for a long moment as if deciding what to do or contemplating its structure and anatomy. Any father would be pleased and proud to take the credit for the way you have turned out. He always had a pale whitish pallor from being in the lab so much.

Sands of Time

My dad sat back down and went off into that undiscovered country inside his head. My dad had a thin face. Like we never were apart or something. That part of this story I will get to.

I wanted to thank him. Much later. Carl Jung would say. Looking back he must have pulled some hefty strings with some very heavy people along the way.

The colors. That was more than forty years ago. But apparently Ted had made all the executive decisions and applied for me. I stood dumbfounded. I finally sat down. In fact. I opened the letter and it said I was to be enrolled in the fall classes in Los Angeles. The Fight Song. The Band. The power of the Alumni and the Trojan family was a very real thing here.

My tuition. The football team. After the events of three nights ago I made a fateful decision to write down a record of the events of my life in the hope that someone. The weight of exactly who my father was and what he had just done for me began to emboss itself upon me. Normally one has to apply for entrance to a major college with grades.

The Tradition. But now. My work had led me down many different paths that few men on this Earth have ever travelled. It was a full ride.

I thought back on all the time I had spent without him. The Horse. The heroic men I have entrusted my story to will literally risk their lives to tell the world what I never could while I was alive.

Someone might say. Phil walked up and stretched out his hand to shake mine. Usually he was already out in the lab behind the house to let me sleep in. That was until I saw our station wagon pull into the driveway. He had a knee injury on the last play of the State Championship game getting our guy in for the winning touchdown that kept him from going pro.

But not today. This morning he looked really official when he got out of his black and white Crown Victoria cruiser.

I was hoping you might help me. When WWII came he was deferred from service because his knee and his role as a deputy sheriff so they made him the liaison between the Marine Corp base and the county. This made him a very well known and respected person at all levels of government within our isolated little desert community.

He was big. He was cool. His attitude about law enforcement was a measured response that was firm and fair. He was in some kind of green and tan uniform and looked like a Marine from the base. I opened the door and watched as another man parked our station wagon under the carport.

I gestured to the other man to come in out of the sun as well. We came back here and he said he needed to go out for a while.

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Sleeping in this one day of the week. Why all the questions. It had this inside. I looked at it and then turned it over.

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No tracks in the sand leading away from the car. He looked really hard at me for a long while tilting his head down to look directly into my eyes. You know that? They sent over a couple of choppers and ran a search pattern out 50 miles. Just until we get some of this sorted out. He could make some kind of sense out of this. Last night. Did you have anything to do with this? Then he walked out of here to…do something…or go somewhere! A life always bordering on a whole universe of the strange and bizarre.

He spent most of his time out in his lab working on God knows what. Bob was out-going. Bob took a sharp. James Arness looked like my Uncle Bob. The Marine that had been leaning on the car outside came into the house to see what was going on. Bob was physically everything that his brother. I think shock had just opened up my awareness to all the details of what was going on around me.

He was pulling out his well worn black leather ID case and with a flick of his wrist flipped open the cover to flash that huge world famous shining badge emblazoned with the magnificent ziggurat topped obelisk of the City Hall building that was the symbol of Southern California that said to everyone who saw it. And where I come from.

I could tell that already. He stood at ease just inside as the screen door closed behind with a thump. Robert Humphrey. Are you all right son? Theodore Humphrey is my brother and when he called us last night at 3: My uncle. She looked sad. He had the face and body of a classic s hero. Ted was one of the quietest men anyone could ever want to meet. That was the only weird thing that happened. Manhattan Project level stuff. Four years is a long time out of that kind of activity.

She looked at it and her eyes went wide with worry and concern then handed it reverently back to me. Then four years ago he up and quits and comes out here to the middle of nowhere to…fiddle with his goddamn gadgets. I thought I would mention it. That was it! Do you know her? I told him to go back to academia where he was before the war. All super hush-hush.

Security clearances. Bob read it and sighed. I was relegated to the status of onlooker at this point. Any blood or anything out of the ordinary in it? We found the car and brought it back here. I felt like I had just hit him in the gut with a kryptonite sledgehammer. Bob was used to having people jump when he spoke and being here was obviously the last place he wanted to be and it was showing.

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Phil looked up from his notebook. He said he really needed to know anything about her that I might be able to find out. Is there something else we can do? The guy I asked to look her up got reassigned to Bismarck. Bad habits go with the job. All holy hell came down from on high. My Uncle Bob nodded and with that nod everything in my life changed.

Really modern. But it was just that four months ago Ted called and asked if I could check our records for a woman named Ann Corbett. Phil noted the change in my uncle as well. I need to tell you that. He looked like the quarterback that had just lost the big USC versus UCLA rivalry game of the season and it was his forward pass that had missed the receiver in the end zone.

Judy walked over and put her hand on his shoulder to raise him from his stupor. We have the very latest in punch card computers and can run through tens of thousand of them in a half hour or so and pull up all kinds of information about anyone ever involved in a police case of any kind. I took it on myself to call a friend over at the federal building and asked him to run her through their system.

There oughta be. I was in my freshman year at the University of Southern California at what seemed like the center of the universe. I was sure that she let out an epic sigh of deep relief when I moved out to go to school five months after moving in with them. She would literally follow me around with a sponge and a roll of paper towels in the anticipated horror that I would spill or dribble or drool on anything in her home.

I went back to visit. Her life was about shopping. To tell you the truth it was a blessing for me. I wanted to burn the place to the ground. I was majoring in physics and mathematics. No matter what I wanted to do or which classes I wanted to take. As we were talking on the couch.

He had gone out there and taken care of things like selling off the laboratory equipment and getting rid of the furniture. Thanks to my dad. It was like I blamed the house and that laboratory out back for somehow taking him from me. Uncle Bob got up. Judy knew nothing. And all I had to do was submit my schedule of the classes I wanted. I could tell he was torn as to whether to give them to me or not.

But the more I asked him questions about what my dad had been involved with. I always got priority and they were always approved. Uncle Bob arranged for the sorting and cleaning to be done. It had taken about three months to sell the house in Barstow and by then I was tied up in school. I really never wanted to go back out there ever again. It was like some invisible hand was guiding and protecting me every step of the way.

She probably spent a week with a rented steam vacuum cleaning every room I breathed in and after that had the place tented. That was when I met Leonard Bates. I was making progress for myself and my mentor. The subjects came easy to me and the math was a breeze. I already had a full scholarship for graduate school at Cal-Tech in Pasadena. The first thing he did without even saying hello was look at my chalkboard. Radio Corporation of America was a strong second.

Time moved. Leonard Bates was a man in his sixties. By the time I was in my senior year. He was running a new facility for the government out on the end of Long Island. My mentor and advisor for my doctorate had told me to see him and that was enough to convince me I could spend an hour with the old guy and then get on with my work and my search for a new home.

I learned that being a scientist was a lot more cool. New York and wanted the brightest and best to be there working with him. Bell Laboratories was at the head of my list of private firms I wanted to look at and see if they had what I was looking for. He was small. I had published seven papers on time compression and the uncertainty principals of Heisenberg. I took those journals with me that day and bound them with an old thick brown leather belt. I was used to stodgy old crazy professor types by now.

Before graduating with my PhD doctorate. I kept them by my bed no matter where I was. It was the late s and the space program was just starting to heat up and I wanted to be in the forefront of that race to the stars.

Heady and theoretical stuff. Behind them. The teaching positions and job offers were pouring in by the bushel and I had my pick of places to go off to work. I would have my doctorate in less than two months and I was ready to go out and carve a place in the Brave New World for me to stand. The equations of Maxwell Plank were my closest friends during those happy salad days.

But Bates was insistent that I listen to his pitch about going to work for him. It was exciting and mysterious and made me want to know more. Between spending long hours at a chalk board and pushing a slide rule back and forth until I had worn out the tracks on four of them in a year. Bates came into my lab about three in the afternoon.

His field was the emerging science of automated calculation machines or as some had started to call them…computers. A new agency was being formed in the government called the National Aeronautics and Space Administration that looked like it was offering some promising opportunities as well. I gave up playing football in my second year of college to work full time on my graduate scholarship.

This was really the meat and potatoes of the field.

I had heard about all of this at college. When Bates made an appointment to see me on a July afternoon in my lab at Cal-Tech I was less than excited. I quickly moved from the didactic aspects of grad school to the practical hands-on in the laboratory stuff.

A simple move up the and Arroyo Secco freeways and up into the stratosphere of theoretical physics. I cut the time for his interview down to thirty minutes at most. I knew that instantly. Bates then pulled out an old briar pipe and lit it. I stood back and looked at the board. He was right. Bates was adorned in the traditional dress of the old- school scholar: I walked over to the chalkboard and tried both changes while he puffed away grinning like some great Cheshire cat in a tree leery down at a little English girl in a blue dress.

I looked at him carefully as he stared up at me. For sure and for damn. Walking over to the place where I sat going over some notes and basking in the afternoon sunshine through the large windows.

Puffing blue smoke high into the air with his head tilted back. He thumbed on it with the back of his fingers and looked at me. He smiled up at me and spoke through clenched teeth. If my mentor had said that to him. It took a good ten minutes to work through the process and I scribbled down a dozen different notes while working through it. God Damn it to Hell.

I was betting my whole future career on this model and no one in the country knew how far I had taken it yet. I will tell you that for nothing. Call me and set up an appointment. I mean.

Nobody ever saw him again. Got up one day and told me to kiss his ass and walked out. You pay for your flight. Walked out in the middle of our project! Did you know that? I would never have expected to hear anything like that from anyone.

He looked me up and down for what seemed like an eternity. I just blinked in utter disbelief. Brightest sonuvabitch I ever met in my life.

I felt sick to my stomach and I felt the floor slipping out from under me. I leapt over to the door covering the space in a desperate bound and grabbed it by the edge. Where is he now? I would imagine. He picked up the waste paper basket and dumped it into the gray waste bin that collected the trash from each adjoining room. An old red cloth hung out of his back pocket. He looked up to see me with a start and the whites of eyes went large in a comical contrast against his coal dark skin.

As he pushed the dry mop across the floor and moved the dust from one spot to another he stopped by the window looking out. The late afternoon turned into evening as the streaming sunlight through the windows went from bright white to yellow gold.

Almost give an old man a heart attack! The co-sign…lambda…. The keys on his side jangled musically as he wiped down the windowsills and closed most of them.

Slowly his presence started to register as he began his cleaning routine. He took a deep breath. His words brought on a flicker of ignition behind my eyes. The old man quizzically cocked his head. Sometime around 6: I sat on the lab bench in a fugue state. The old man stood there watching the engine in my brain turn over in the stark winter that had become my thoughts.

I leaned into the equation. Then he stopped with one hand on his cart in the hall and the other on the door. He was an older black man I had never seen before until he walked in.

He had salt and pepper hair and his gray uniform only set off the contrast between his ebony skin and hair. These were nothing less than quantum leaps. Finally finished. He reached over with his free hand and flipped on the lights. He swung open the door and pulled the cart to him from the side then blocked the door with it as he got behind it to push it out into the hallway. The man looked up at me with a strange look. I hurried to the second floor and found the same thing.

I stood straight up and the chair clattered to the ground behind me. I just passed your office bye when I was working downstairs. No sir! I stood back for a better view.

A true connection~

An old Negro fellow! But as I ran up the stairwell the third floor door was propped open and down the hall a single door stood open with the sound of trash being dumped into a bin. The waste paper basket was still filled with papers I had tossed in it during the day and the windows were still open. This would go over well at lunch when the custodial staff got together and talked about all the weirdoes that worked here.

What he said struck me like an electric blue flash! The missing component! I grabbed the chalk and started to replace the variable and suddenly there it was! The missing key that Bates had not provided during his few moments sniping at me in my lab. I stared into empty space.

The building was seemingly deserted. I hurled myself into the hallway. Emerging on the first floor we walked over to my lab and opened the door. The latest technological advancement graced his shirt pocket in the form of a small battery operated transistor radio made in Japan. Somebody was already in my office! I picked myself up and ran to the end of the hall and looked at the door. I sprinted to the other end with the same result.

It was already locked. It took a split second. It was truly beautiful!! A work of sheer art and genius! I was panting with excitement and exhilaration! The old Negro smiled and winked as he pushed his cart and closed the door behind him. He pulled the small white plug out of his ear connected to a beige wire.

A friend. Thank God! At least that was real! Looking at one another. A loose-leaf piece of paper was jutting out of my journal and I pulled it out and unfolded it. I knew it. Suddenly I realized I could fly back East.

I was terrified of the unknown and all those things science rails against. I opened it and copied down the equation. I stood for a frozen moment listening to my own breathing. Taking my journal off the desk. I found myself in the long dark empty hallway. It might help with any decision you plan to make. A strong gust of the Santa Ana winds rattled the windows like lost souls begging for entry or the damned pointing accusatory spectral fingers. I was overcome and really. A couple of passing students saw me as I hurtled past them into the darkness.

Two small ghostly emergency exit lights glimmered at both ends of the corridor. It did.

A message from a ghost? A note from The Phantom Janitor? I shook my head. These changes would take months off the process to solve this problem and provide a virtually fool proof method for gaining acceleration on the new rocket engine design I had been working on. You mighta been cooped up in here just a mite too long. In a clear and concise handwriting was a note: There was something in this hallway with me. I sprinted down the hall busting out the doors into the crisp night air.

That hit me hard. But I was a trained scientist who made his living off observations and recording data and telling the difference between what is real and what is not. My crazy old man believed he could find a way of making ships and planes invisible to radar by wrapping them in gaussing coils and pulsing high frequency energy through them.

It was simply above and beyond what my brain could manage at that age in my life and at that moment in time and space. I tried to convince myself it was a fabrication of my own muddled mind and I had figured out the problem on my own. How would anyone KNOW? Dad spent all his time working in the area of time delineation. I opened the closet and found the box that was sealed tight and taped shut and had been since my first year at USC.

Once I had looked through them. If I had been Kerry Cassidy I'd have asked about that. I'd also have asked how either sum could have completely disappeared in currency trading. I mean, if you trade on the NYSE or NASDAQ there's always the possibility that you'll back a company that literally ceases to exist--but with currency, your assets may diminish because of bad luck or bad judgement, but it's hard to see how they could vanish outright. Kerry conned Kerry, however, let SDM completely off the hook.

This was money inherited from her mother, which she had intended to use to start Project Camelot. He pleaded that he submitted bonds as repayment of the sum, and acted in good faith. What Morton called an "IRS computer error" did not come out of the blue sky--it had to have been the result of a claim, didn't it? In a news release after the Mortons' conviction in April, Sandra R. Morton unsuccessfully moved to have counsel appointed to represent him, admitting that representing himself at trial had been a major mistake.

The motion was denied as "too late. He reminded the radio audience of his brilliantly successful past predictions, and added a couple of new ones. As for daily life in jail, he reported that he had lost 50lb, was in great demand for Tarot readings, and was mixing with interesting people.

Since Hall has now been found guilty of fraud in a separate case, he, Morton, cannot also be guilty. The doctrine of Estoppel normally applies to conflicting opinions expressed within a single case, not an apparent conflict between something said in Case A and something said in Case B. The motion to stay briefing He alleged that the judge erred in allowing him to appear pro se because the judge ought to have recognized that he was incompetent.

Publications[ edit ] Morton, Sean; Haley, Wayne Morton, Sean Sands of Time, Book 1. Starlocke Publishing. Sands of Time, Book 2. Sands of Time, Book 3.Apparently human beings also have a sort of universal Z. Why not use them again?

Bates wants you over there like yesterday! Ted did come to one of the awards dinners on a late January evening. So he was in a way, he is benefiting from the seeds of his own planting I have to take this to DC and try to sell them on the idea.