Linda Moulton Howe
He went in to extract a language specialist. He came out with an account that has no comfortable explanation. Sent down a single ramp that descends at one constant angle for three miles beneath the Antarctic ice, he emerged into rooms measured at three and then nine square acres, under ceilings estimated at eighty feet - eight stories - carved entirely from black obsidian.
On the walls were thousands of carved markings. An archaeologist already stationed there had lasered hundreds of them, and every single one measured exactly the same: 7.5 inches. Not close to the same. Exactly. The only conclusion available was that a technology had melted them into the hardest stone on the planet, at a scale and a precision no hand tool explains. The language specialist described the forms as sitting somewhere between Mayan pictographs and something with no terrestrial parallel at all, and told him plainly that whatever made this, no humans were involved.
Then came the part that changes the story from archaeology into something else. The corridors are 69 degrees Fahrenheit. The lights - the color of lime green - switch on ahead of you as you walk. Colossal doors, eighteen by twenty three feet, still seal the sections. This is not a ruin. It is a facility that is running, and the people who use it are described as humanoid, hairless and very tall - not greys, not insects, not praying mantises, and not exactly human either.
YouTube link: https://youtu.be/jPFvDG4WilE?si=ypuPwgO3CsVvYG6T
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