From: Blunderov (squooker@mweb.co.za)
Date: Mon Sep 23 2002 - 11:46:43 MDT
[Blunderov]
Here is a description of an Hutchison Effect demonstration from "The
Hunt for Zero Point" by Nick Cook.
<snip>
The building had been unremarkable another storage facility in the outer
suburbs. There was no security, just an eight-foot wire fence and the
warehouse's relative obscurity amidst the smoke and grime of'
Vancouver's industrial quarter. It was not optimum, but guards would
only have attracted attention.
The equipment was housed behind a wall of breezeblocks in the middle of
the warehouse. The breeze blocks extended half-way to the roof - around
15 feet.
This was the target area.
Behind the wall was the large Tesla Coil containing the uranium source,
a device around four and half feet tall with a doughnut-shaped metal
coil on top.
Diagonally across the room, on the other side of the target area, sat a
powerful Van de Graaf generator capable of producing a 250,000 volt DC
static charge.
The other prominent piece of technology was a three-and-a-half-foot
double-ended Tesla Coil, known as the 'dumb-bell', suspended from
supports running across the top of the wall.
Between these three main equipment items were an assortment of smaller
devices, all connected to each other by multiple coils of wire and
cabling.
There were tuning capacitors, high-voltage transmission caps, RF coils
and a spark gap that would snap every 40 seconds or so sending an
ear-splitting shockwave throughout the building while it was up and
running.
Now, though, as the equipment warmed up prior to the test, all it
emitted was a low-intensity hum.
Outside the target area lay a pile of unclaimed scrap metal. Leaning
against the wall were three old street lights and a spool of wire
hawser. Set in front of them sat a rusting horse-drawn plough, three
times the weight of a man.
In the flickering light of the monitoring screens members of the team
would see their flickering shadows moving on the edge of their vision.
Several said it made it feel like there were people there, watching
them.
Between the scrap metal and the target area a bank of receivers and
monitoring equipment rested on a workbench.
Hutchison, then in his late 30s, sat at the bench watching monitors and
tuning dials.
The Pentagon and DoE evaluation team had flown in from across the border
the previous night. The atmosphere was relaxed as it could be -
shirt-sleeves, first-name stuff - but everyone was tense. No one knew
what to expect; no one, that is, except Big Bad Bob, the crusty old
sceptic from the Los Alamos National Laboratory.
What was happening here, Bob told anyone who'd listen, was just a bunch
of smoke and mirrors, a waste of time, effort and money.
His sidekick, another John, was blessed with a more open mind and, given
the nature of the assignment, he expressed the view, though not when Bob
was around, that this was no bad thing.
Only a few days earlier, tongues of fire had licked their way up through
the concrete floor, a manifestation of the Effect that had not been
encountered before.
Everyone except Bob had accepted the Canadians' version of events at
face value.
As Hutchison adjusted the monitoring equipment, he could hear the ladder
behind him groaning under Bob's considerable bulk. Bob was gazing down
on the equipment from the top of the wall. (Hutchison never made clear
to me the reasons for the wall. Had it been put there to contain the
Effect or possible fall-out from it - an explosion perhaps?) Colonel
Alexander, who was pacing in the shadows to the left of the workbench,
asked him what he could see.
The equipment was humming and the cameras were turning. The target, a
length of steel rod, wasn't moving - wasn't even quivering - so no
friggin' surprise there, Bob replied.
Just then, the radio crackled. Bob's deputy was running some cheeks with
special monitoring equipment outside the building. He was 300 feet from
the warehouse and picking up some kind of distortion. Something, he
said, was happening
Alexander stepped out of the shadows and studied one of the monitors. He
peered at the readings, then glanced at the video image of the steel
bar, but it was just as Bob had said: nothing was moving. Nothing had
changed.
Suddenly, without anyone touching anything, the ceiling lights switched
on and began to glow intensely bright. For a moment, the entire floor
area was bathed in incandescent white light. Then the bank of bulbs
blew, sending a shower of red-hot filaments and glass onto the target
area.
Except for the glow from the monitors, the warehouse was plunged back
into darkness. Bob, who was standing a little to the right of Hutchison,
started to laugh.
Out of the corner of his eye, over by the scrap area, the Canadian
caught the movement, real movement this time, and instinctively ducked
his head.
The crash was followed by a cry from Big Bad Bob, then silence.
The plough had sailed across the room at shoulder height and buried
itself into the wall close to where he had been standing.
After the INSCOM team departed, Hutchison's work continued. The lab
moved again to a different part of' Vancouver and people came and went.
This much I know to be true, because Hutchison showed me copies of the
reports.
Among Hutchison's visitors at this time was Jack Houck of the McDonnell
Douglas aerospace corporation, who in 1985 spent two days analysing the
Effect. Houck came away satisfied that no fraudulence had occurred
during the experiments he attended, during which, in a subsequent
report, he pronounced that 'some very interesting events' had been
captured on video-tape. However, he went on, 'some of the biggest events
occurred outside the target area. The first evening a gun-barrel and a
very heavy (60 lb) brass cylinder were hurled from a shelf in the back
corner of the room onto the floor. Simultaneously, on the opposite side
of the room toward the back, three other objects were hurled to the
ground. One was a heavy aluminium bar inch by 2 "2' 'Inch by 12 inch).
It was bent by 30 degrees.'
Houck attested to the randomness of the Hutchison Effect and postulated
that it might in part be attributable to psychokinesis - that Hutchison,
in other words, was either boosting the energy generated by the
machinery with his mind or that his mind alone was responsible for the
manifestations produced.
These phenomena, Hutchison was now able to report, included
time-dilation - pockets of altered space-time within the target area -
and, most extraordinary of all, the capacity of the Effect to turn metal
ingots transparent. It was as if, momentarily, the ingots were there,
but not there; visible in outline yet totally see-through.
It had been Hathaway's dream in the early stages of their work to
develop Hutchison's machinery into a 'stationary launch-assist' device:
an anti-gravity aerospace platform.
This was based on his initial belief that the inertial properties of the
machinery itself appeared to have altered during some of the
experiments; this, in addition to the clearly altered weight condition
of the objects placed in the target area - objects that I'd seen in the
video Bushman had showed me in Texas.
But in 1986, Hutchison and Pharos Technologies went their separate ways,
Pezarro and Hathaway having failed to secure the kind of backing for the
Effect they'd always hoped for. It all fell apart, Hathaway said, when
it was suggested that Hutchison 'was an integral part of the apparatus;
that the Effect, in other words, was unachievable without the presence
of Hutchison himself.
For his part, Hutchison vehemently denies this, but the fact that the
most spectacular manifestations of the Effect always seemed to occur
when he was around is hard to refute. The psychokinesis proponents hold
this up as evidence that their theory is the right one; the
technologists counter that it is Hutchison's intuitive feel for the
machinery, his ability to tune it to the hair's-breadth tolerances
required for things to start happening, that makes his presence
necessary.
The fact that two aerospace companies - Boeing and McDonnell Douglas -
felt it necessary to investigate the Hutchison Effect is at least
telling.
Boeing partly funded a series of experiments during the late 1980s. By
then, however, Hutchison had become disenchanted with the Canadian scene
and in 1989 went on a scouting tour of Europe intent on moving his lab
to either Austria or Germany. When he came back to Vancouver at the turn
of the decade, he found the Canadian government had confiscated half of
his equipment. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police maintained that it
constituted an environmental hazard; Hutchison that the Canadians had
been leant on by the Americans.
Hutchison's suspicions were compounded when attempts to have the Los
Alamos report released under the Freedom of Information Act resulted in
failure.
No one in officialdom had been able to locate the files. It looked as if
the report had been buried.
Later, Col. Alexander, the head of the INSCOM group, told me that the
report had been classified, but was subsequently downgraded to
'confidential'. In the end, it had been 'routinely destroyed'.
Alexander's take on the plough incident was also markedly different from
Hutchison's. On the day in question, he said, nothing mysterious had
happened. That, from INSCOM's point of view was the problem.
1 asked Alexander what he felt about it all.
'0h, it's real all right,' he told me, ' the trouble is, sometimes it
works and sometimes, it doesn't. But four out of five of us came away
believing.
<snap>
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