I'm departing from my usual writings because this new development made me, unfortunately, a main proponent in this secret report. Of course, this portion of the report will never see the light of day if I don't succeed. I just need some record of my travel and hopefully success.

The day after my vision I held the glowing crystal in my hands and knew I needed to go to the secret archives and use this magical object to find the catalyst for the vast weapon. I was not sure why I had to find this object because the past is past and can never be experienced again, but I was wrong. The invaders, the Swarm, the Vvong, will be coming soon, maybe by the end of the lunar year and I need to tell my Government about these creatures. I will help the Alphas in the past to help the present and the future.

I had clearance to the ancient archives far away from my apartment on campus and I was not sure how I was supposed to get it and steal it away from the many guards stationed at that area. I had my morning breakfast as always and called the Dean of the Magical Studies in New California. I told him that I had an emergency and that I had to leave as soon as possible. The Dean was a young man and pure bureaucrat. He knew I had pull with the head of the magical order and let me have a short vacation without a clear explanation of my emergency.

"Yes," the Dean of the College said, "I have somebody who can take over your classes. You teach history."

"Yes, I do. Thanks, that would be great. I should be back in a few days..."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. Take as long as you need."

"Thank you."

I closed the magical receiver. I wished they had wireless phones like they had back in the past. These magical receivers were clunky and I didn't like to use them. Of course, powerful magic-users could use a magical listening globe. I am not gifted in this area and had to use the old methods.

I walked out of my large apartment and went to my automobile. The car was not the newest model but ran on magical dilithium crystals. I drove out of my complex and noticed a black car start to follow me. I was getting paranoid, I told myself. Nobody could have known my vision last night and knew my destination today. I have been to the archives several times to do research and so it would be considered, in my opinion, routine to go there.

It would take me most of the day to reach the archives and I knew where the area was that this catalyst should be. The crystal was safely tucked away in my sack. I thought about the vision and realized the elves talked to me. Real elves. I was astounded at this development. Then I wondered why the elves didn’t come to help them. It was a valid question and I would ask them when I contacted them again. I laughed. All this must be a dream and I was doing this because I was still in this vivid delusion.

I drove my car up the causeway and onto the long freeway. The secret archives were located due south from the college and in a remote area. Most of the region of California was under water and considered unlivable, mostly because of warring Grogs still living there. I had protection with me, but I knew with the treaty between the humans and Grogs I should be safe passing certain places.

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I drove down the long, almost empty lane (most people transported with the aid of teleportation spells or flew with mages). I didn't want to rely on magic to move this special object. I was not sure exactly where this object was located but knew what it looked like. Also, I rarely use magic in my normal routines and hoped nobody was following me. I looked at the rear view mirror the fiftieth time and didn't see anybody. But I could feel somebody watching me. I felt it in my mind and bones.

There are no signs in the causeway and I wondered why, after the Great War, we didn't decide to create signals where we tarry. But in this world where magic holds sway people don't need signs to know where they are going. They use sigils and cast spells to move from one place to another.

I drove most of the day and only stopped at a small roadside café for an hour, to eat. I was in a hurry to get to the place. The waitress knew me from the time before I came herewhen I did research at the archives a few months ago.

There was a Grog teenager at the restaurant while I ate. He had his fur combed and fashioned in the style of the day. It was odd thinking these Grogs used to hate us so much. The teenager even flirted with the waitress. I shook my head. I held my notepad before me and wrote, brainstorming some type of plan.

After, I started driving again on the freeway. I noticed a black jeep far away in the thoroughfare. I thought I had seen this car before when I left my apartment back on campus, but I was not sure. I drove a few miles and took an off ramp down to a small city called Bakersfield. I stopped at a small market and waited. The black jeep didn't follow me. I was being paranoid again.

The next few hours I spent driving to the large underground area. The sand and dirt was all over the car while I drove into the complex. The building was a large black warehouse looking impressive and bleak at the same time. Several guards manned the front, but security was slack. Nobody wanted any of these old relics and books, just professors or students, and only a few people had security clearance.

The guard waved me through the security checkpoint. They knew me by sight. I parked my car by the front entrance and was surprised that another car was in the parking stall.

I walked toward the door and showed the guard at the small office my badge from the Office of Magical Studies.

"Ah, professor," the soldier said, "you are back for more research."

"Yes." I nodded and wanted to get away from the soldier’s station.

"Aye, another visitor is with us today," the other soldier said from behind the desk. "It’s getting crowded." The soldier chuckled.

"Ok, I have a lot of work to do. I should only take an hour."

"Ok, Professor."

I walked away from them and wondered if they noticed how nervous I was. Walking down the stairs to the first landing, I hoped the other person visiting here wouldn't want to talk. My forehead was moist with sweat and I dabbed it with my handkerchief. The temperature was climate controlled and I knew my trepidation and nervousness were getting the best of me. I almost stopped myself and walked away.

The next corridor was brightly lit and showed closed doors on both sides. My destination was a door at the end. The archives I was looking for were located in the inner bowels of this structure. Facing me was a large elevator. I pressed the button and heard the hum of the motors moving. The doors opened and a man was inside.

He said, "Hello, Professor Jacobs."