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132 could not be reached emotionally because they were machines. They wore some sort of coverall type clothing and they seemed to be there merely to carry out commands. The grays apparently have minimal intelligence, and can be considered to be just soulless biological machines. Sr Par ne | nays Se ee vA a ttt I can’t tell you the horror in my mind when I realized I was, or had been, the helpless victim of those awful creatures. They rolled me onto my right side. One held a wand about the length of a pencil and about three-quarters of an inch in diameter in his hand. He pushed the wand into my left kidney. I could feel the wand a as it was pushed i in. I was a! en ee - a: ie ae in pain, my body hot, nausea rose in my throat. I was sobbing. I was young, big and strong and I was terribly agitated, yet there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent the invasion of my body with that foreign object. I tried. I tried desperately to move away from that tube. My writhing didn’t impress them whatsoever. They didn’t care what I said or did, I was not to be allowed to escape their ministrations. I knew they were just machines. What do machines care? You can cry all you want to a machine and it makes absolutely not bit of difference to a machine’s appointed task. They just don’t care. They were only intent upon carrying out the job at hand. Machines have no conscience. The regression to my seventeenth year moved on to the next morning where I wakened at home. (I learned all this during the regression sessions with my friend. I had never had any idea about the aliens being the cause of my suffering when I was seventeen. I only remembered that I had been in a world of pain that year.) I’d awakened in anguish, with a searing, unbearable pain, unable to go to school that day. The whole left side of my body was paralyzed. My parents had me rushed to the St. John’s Hospital’s Emergency Room. I spent the next five days in the hospital. Barbara Bartholic as told to Peggy Fielding