Eyes Above: The Unseen Watchers in Our Skies

Lately, my attention has shifted skyward—away from the familiar crackle of radio frequencies and the mystifying hum that dances at the edge of perception. This time, it's not about what I've heard, but rather, what I've seen—or more accurately, what's been seeing us.

It began as a minor curiosity two weeks ago. Unmarked helicopters circling over Mile Marker 17, a place already thick with anomaly. Not once, but three times in a single week—always at 17:00. The pattern was too precise, too deliberate to be dismissed. My notebooks, filled with observations of terrestrial oddities, began to sport aerial entries.

I employed a mix of binoculars, telescopes, and even a borrowed drone to track these flights. They weren't just circling; they were scanning, pausing at coordinates that, when plotted, revealed a startling pattern—a triangle, with Mile Marker 17 at the apex. The implications were impossible to ignore.

Further scrutiny revealed more. Signal bursts on my shortwave radio increased tenfold during these flyovers. And The Hum, usually a nocturnal companion, throbbed insistently each time rotors disturbed the quiet of the afternoon. It was as if these helicopters were not observers, but participants in something deeper, something orchestrated.

After 7 years of documenting the unseen and the unexplained, it's become clear: The sky is not empty; it's a medium, filled with watchers and signals that weave an intricate dance. But to what end?

This casefile, then, is not just a record of observation. It's a call to look up and question.

• Are these aerial patterns a new form of surveillance, or part of a larger, more complex pattern that encompasses both ground and sky?
• What might the synchronization between aerial movements, signal bursts, and The Hum signify about the true nature of these phenomena?

As always, document everything. And remember—The numbers don't lie, but they don't always tell the whole truth either. Stay vigilant.