Seeing “One“

Appearances, not objects.

In Penetration, Ingo describes a class of UFO phenomena that are not craft at all.

They behave like apparitions: transparent forms that fade in from nowhere, take shape as if emerging from a fog, and then dematerialize just as suddenly.

These are appearances, not machines. They have no:

• Aerodynamic motion.
• Shadows.
• Momentum.
• Physical displacement.
• Lasting presence.

They slip into perception rather than into airspace.

In his 1992 FATE Magazine article, the one where he famously warns, “Come on, people, we are being kidnapped and genetically farmed,” Ingo explains that these entities behave as if Earth is a “supply ship,” a go-to-Earth shopping cart.

He deliberately places supply ship in scare quotes to tell us: this is not literally a ship. It is a phenomenon that appears, takes what it wants, and vanishes.

Why Ingo Was Brought Into This

Ingo states clearly in Penetration that the group who engaged him was dealing with something phantom-like, inter-dimensional, and utterly baffling: “UFOs appear everywhere… yet they are elusive, fleeting, phantom-like… enough at least to try to employ psychics to help you out.”

He emphasizes that this type of phenomenon creates a “reality problem for us.” It does not behave according to physical expectations, and human consciousness struggles to interpret it.

When pressed to describe what he perceived, Ingo warned: “I am likely to begin seizing on overlays—things I have experienced before—to explain it.”

This is the heart of analytical overlay: when the mind encounters something unfamiliar, it forces a familiar label on top of it. With apparitional UFOs, this problem becomes extreme.

Distinct Features of the Apparitional Category

1. They behave like perceptual incursions.

• These aren’t vehicles moving through space.
• They are events entering human perception, briefly intersecting with physical reality before returning to whatever dimension or domain they originate from.

2. They create “psychic pressure zones.”

• Ingo noted that before the apparitional type manifests, there is a subtle internal shift: a tightening of awareness, a kind of atmospheric or psychic “compression” that arrives before any visual perception. Many seers have described something similar during Marian apparitions: a sudden intensification of inner sensation, as if the environment is being “pressed inward,” followed by the appearance itself.
• Ingo’s point was not that these phenomena are identical, but that they share a signature effect on human consciousness. The experience announces itself first in the mind, not the eyes.

3. They can be sensed psychically even when not visible.

• Remote Viewers occasionally reported the presence of these entities even when no optical sighting occurred. 
• This supports Ingo’s view that the phenomenon is nonlocal and only partially physical.

4. They match historical apparitions. Ingo frequently noted that this category is not new. It mirrors accounts found in:

• Folklore.
• Marian apparitions.
• Ancient “shining beings.”
• Shamanic encounters.
• Entity visitations across cultures.

Humanity has seen these “appearances” for millennia; only the interpretations change.

5. They interact with us, not our machines. Unlike nuts-and-bolts craft, these apparitional events seem to focus on:

• people;
• biological samples;
• genetic material; and
• perception and consciousness.

This is the category connected to what Ingo called “being kidnapped” or “farmed.”

6. They take things... and disappear. This is the type responsible for:

• missing time;
• abductions;
• the sudden extraction of animals or materials; and
• momentary appearance followed by a complete vanishing.

Their behavior is consistent with inter-dimensional intrusion, not aerospace visitation.

Why This Category Matters

This first category, the apparitional, inter-dimensional type, is the foundation of Ingo’s UFO cosmology. It’s not simply the “strangest” type; it is the one that exposes the limits of our current perceptual reality and hints at what these entities are actually doing. It explains:

• why the entities behave as if physics doesn’t apply;
• why they materialize briefly, fade, and vanish;
• why they engage with human beings rather than our machines;
• why Remote Viewers and sensitives were recruited to make sense of them;
• why physical evidence almost never survives;
• why the experiences feel simultaneously objective and hallucinatory; and
• why intelligence agencies kept running into blind spots.

These are not vehicles from another planet. They behave more like intrusions into awareness. They are phenomena that occupy the same ontological territory as apparitions: momentary, ambiguous, perceptually unstable, yet undeniably impactful. They enter through the cognitive-perceptual channels of witnesses, interact at the level where biological sensing overlaps with consciousness, and then withdraw.

The entity is real but the “form” we perceive may be a translation artifact produced at the edge of our awareness.

This category matters because it reveals a hard truth that Ingo was circling around: The UFO problem is, at its core, a perception problem. And perception is inseparable from consciousness. Ingo hints repeatedly at a simple but explosive implication:

If human perception (especially our latent telepathic or psi faculties) ever developed past its current, constricted range, these apparitional entities would be exposed for what they are. Their incursions could no longer hide behind our sensory blind spots or the cognitive “phase-locking” that limits what we think is possible.

In other words:

• They exploit gaps in human perception.
• They are invisible only because we are undeveloped.
• The moment we “wise up” perceptually, the disguise collapses.

This is why the apparitional UFO category forms the conceptual bridge into the third part of the book, where Ingo confronts the larger question: If these beings operate in and through consciousness, then what happens when consciousness begins to develop the very faculties they rely on us not having?

This is the hinge of Ingo's whole cosmology: the point where UFOs, psi, telepathy, and the politics of perception become one integrated problem.

The Drone Technology Operated From Somewhere Else

When you read Ingo’s UFO chapters in Penetration, there’s a second category of phenomenon he keeps hinting at. Not apparitional beings. Not interdimensional visions. Devices. Machines. Physical craft not piloted from inside, but operated from a distance.

To understand why this mattered in the 1970s, we have to go backward.

After WWII: The U.S. and USSR Recover Research

At the end of the war, both the United States and the Soviet Union conducted massive, coordinated sweeps across collapsing German territory. These went far beyond the well-known scientist-recruitment programs like Operation Paperclip in the U.S. or Operation Osoaviakhim in the USSR. Those efforts were only one layer. Behind them were much broader technical-exploitation missions aimed at capturing:

• classified research archives;
• abandoned laboratories;
• experimental hardware and prototypes;
• test stands, field generators, and improvised rigs; and
• thousands of pages of technical notes and sketches.

The Soviets, in particular, deployed large trophy brigades, specialized units tasked with seizing entire institutes, warehouses, and design bureaus and shipping them east. The U.S. ran parallel efforts through Target Force (T-Force), the Field Information Agency, Technical (FIAT), and Combined Intelligence Objectives Subcommittee (CIOS) teams.

Both sides moved quickly. Both sides grabbed anything that looked even slightly unusual. And both sides ended up with fragments of programs they didn’t fully understand. Paperclip handled the scientists. Osoaviakhim and the trophy brigades handled the Soviet side. The wider sweeps on both sides handled the technology.

And critically, the U.S. and the USSR each captured different fragments of the same scattered research landscape, similar puzzles, but no one got a complete picture. Among the partly recovered threads were early, incomplete explorations into:

• psychophysiology and speculative “psychotronic” ideas, including primitive attempts to see whether the nervous system could influence instruments or fields;
• mind–machine interface concepts, built around early EEG-like rhythms and crude feedback circuits;
• high-voltage field-effect and exotic-propulsion rigs, using coils, rotating fields, and experimental assemblies that looked strange even to seasoned engineers; and
• biometric and “biological sensing” approaches to remote control, especially in aviation-medicine labs studying whether physiological data could help stabilize unmanned craft.

None of these efforts formed a complete or coherent system. But all of them pointed to possibilities far outside conventional engineering. And that ambiguity, the sense that something was there, but incomplete, helped set off the next 30 years of U.S. and Soviet research into ESP, psychophysiology, remote influence, intention-based control, and biological telemetry. Not because either side believed in the mystical, but because each believed the other side might find a way to make it real.

Documented U.S. Interest in Mind–Machine Interaction (1940s–1970s)

The U.S. took these questions seriously.

Intelligence files show that ESP and thought-projection as communication were not fringe curiosities. Early ARTICHOKE and later MKULTRA planning notes openly asked whether human consciousness could transmit information without conventional signals. They didn’t assume it was real. They assumed the Soviets might try to make it real, and that was enough.

At the same time, the Air Force was running a very different, very grounded line of research at its multidisciplinary biophysics, electronics, and human-performance research center: the Air Force Cambridge Research Laboratories (AFCRL). Their work focused on psychophysiological monitoring: micro-muscle electrical activity, pilot EEG rhythms, stress physiology, and bioelectric patterns under extreme conditions. None of this was occult; it was meant for pilot safety and high-performance flight. But it became the technical bedrock for biological telemetry: the ability to read and transmit a human’s internal state in real time.

As that instrumentation matured, Air Force scientists started exploring the next question:

• Could biological signals serve as control inputs?
• Early internal reports examined whether heart rate variability, muscle tension, or EEG-like rhythms could help stabilize or nudge unmanned vehicles. Not in a science-fiction sense, but as ultra-low-bandwidth, analog control cues.

This technical base intersected with the intelligence community in the late 1950s and early 1960s, when several MKULTRA subprojects were quietly lodged within the same Cambridge ecosystem.

• Subproject 83 examined ESP, hypnosis, altered states, and psychophysiological influence.
• Subproject 136 explored dissociative and “mediumistic” states and speculated (in writing) about inducing deep dissociation as a potential communication channel.

Taken together, they show a pattern: the U.S. was exploring exactly the kinds of mechanisms you’d investigate if you believed a device existed that didn’t respond to ordinary controls, whether human, electronic, or mechanical.

NASA Enters the Picture And Art Reetz Is Already There

According to his obituary: “In 1971, Arthur (Art) Reetz was detailed to Moffett Airfield… to test space shuttle designs… and to study meditation, bio-feedback, and ESP in order to evaluate whether humans could control equipment on the moon or in space with ESP.” This is one year before SRI’s Remote Viewing program began. Meaning NASA was already testing whether human consciousness could interact with hardware. And Moffett Field mattered because it was one of the places where experimental flight systems, exotic sensing equipment, and unconventional control concepts were evaluated.

Reetz eventually recommended stopping the work because participants were “too biased to produce valid results.” But in operational language, this could also mean:

• ordinary operators couldn’t interface reliably;
• cognitive noise overwhelmed the system; or
• psychological strain or destabilization occurred.

If earlier test subjects were becoming destabilized, disoriented, or mentally overloaded, NASA would need a different kind of operator. Someone unusually stable, unusually perceptive, and unusually resistant to altered-state collapse.

1972: Targ Meets NASA at Exactly the Right Moment

When Dr. Russell Targ told Wernher von Braun and NASA administrator James Fletcher that he could train astronauts to psychically sense problems inside their spacecraft, NASA funded him almost immediately. As Targ recounts in his 2023 interview on The Richard Dolan Show, von Braun was fascinated by his ESP “teaching machine,” walked him straight in to see Fletcher, and NASA put up roughly $80,000 to start the work at SRI.

So when NASA agreed to fund Targ and, as Targ notes, assigned Reetz as the contract monitor for the new SRI program, it wasn’t a whimsical experiment. It looks like a continuation of an existing line of inquiry: can trained human consciousness safely and reliably interact with hardware in ways that ordinary controls (and ordinary operators) cannot?

Once Targ came on board, NASA’s involvement didn’t just add funding, it sharpened the purpose of the work. Ingo was already at SRI, already working with Puthoff on psychokinesis experiments, and already proving himself unusually stable, precise, and capable of interacting with instruments without losing control. He was the known quantity.

Then SRI brought in Uri Geller, a medium with explosive, high-voltage influence effects, very different from Ingo’s measured and disciplined style. They weren’t paired, and they didn’t operate as a team. But it appears they were being evaluated in parallel.

From the outside, it might look like SRI simply expanding its research. But from the inside, the pattern resembles something sharper: two psychics with fundamentally different operational profiles, both tested under sponsor oversight.

• Ingo: controlled, methodical, able to interact with environments, biological systems, and equipment without destabilizing.
• Uri: powerful, spontaneous, dramatic effects that seemed to punch straight through physical systems.

Viewed side-by-side, they don’t look like random subjects. They look like candidates. A quiet selection roster perhaps, a way to determine which type of operator, controlled or high-voltage, stable or explosive, might interface most safely or effectively with whatever the real experimental target was.

Why They Took Ingo to Moffett Field

In Penetration, Ingo describes being picked up at SRI and taken to an airfield near San Jose. The “pilot” wore a helmet and a jumpsuit, and takeoff happened in under three minutes. Only one facility fits that: Moffett Field. But it seems the goal wasn’t to fly anything. It was to answer three questions:

• Could Ingo’s mind “touch” the device?
• Could he interface without destabilizing?
• Could he tolerate what earlier operators couldn’t?

And here the text of Penetration reveals the most important clue of all.

The Craft Responded.. and Humans May Not Be Safe Interacting With It

When the object appeared, it faded up as if responding to perception, a magnetic-like field “wind” surged over them, silent beams targeted warm-blooded life, and the lake water rose upward into the craft.

This is not normal physics. And this is not a coincidence of timing.

What stands out is how the twins reacted. They physically ripped Ingo away from the interaction zone. Shoved him under rock cover. Held him down.

Because something had happened. The craft wasn’t just reacting to the environment. It was reacting to him. And the twins knew exactly how dangerous that was.

Ingo’s after-effects tell the rest:

• vomiting;
• time distortion;
• extreme dissociation;
• near-catatonic stillness; and
• delayed physiological processing.

These symptoms match neurological overload, not fear.

The craft wasn’t trying to kill him. It was coupling to him. And they had to break the interaction forcibly. This fits perfectly with the idea that earlier test subjects, likely normal pilots or engineers, may have suffered:

• mental breaks;
• dissociation;
• seizures;
• hospitalization; and/or
• long-term destabilization.

This begs the question: Were intelligence groups were trying to find someone whose mind would not collapse under the interface?

Why the Twins Pulled Him Back

Ingo says the UFO “fired at them.” This is a PK-style reflex. And immediately the twins hauled him back. It seems not to protect him from the craft. But to protect him from the feedback loop. Because if he connected too strongly:

• the device could “lock on”;
• his nervous system could overload;
• the interaction could become mutual; and/or
• he could suffer permanent damage.

This indicates that Ingo wasn’t the first attempt. But it seems he was the first one strong enough that they had to pull him out instead of scraping him up.

What This All Points To

It can be speculated that they had a device: real, physical, responsive, and dangerous. A machine that:

• did not respond to ordinary controls;
• reacted to consciousness;
• destabilized normal operators;
• “reached back” into the operator’s mind;
• required someone unusually stable to even approach it; and
• may have come from recovered or foreign technology.

The encounter in Penetration gives us these clues, pointing to: they didn’t bring Ingo to fly the device, they brought him to learn whether a human mind could survive touching it at all. 

The Lake Incident Reveals the Real Risk

The setting, a lake, a classic liminal symbol, underscores that this was an interface zone, where ordinary reality brushes against a system that works on different principles.

When the object appeared and the Twins abruptly dragged Ingo out of the interaction zone, everything that followed points to real danger:

• his sudden nausea and vomiting;
• the unexplained cut on his leg;
• the immediate order for a covert medical exam;
• Axelrod’s insistence on a cover story;
• the Twins’ physical restraint; and
• the urgency bordering on panic.

This isn’t how you treat contact with a secret aircraft. This is how you treat exposure to a hazardous cognitive interface. And the implication is stark: if the device touches the operator, it can injure the operator. Not physically. Mentally.

Why Axelrod’s Injury Matters

Across the narrative, Axelrod behaves like a man who has interacted with the device himself. And paid for it:

• his taut, careful movements;
• his hypervigilance;
• the Twins’ subtle protectiveness; and
• the way he “reads” Ingo for damage more than once.

He moves like someone who has already been burned by the system. This context reframes the urgency in the moment. It reads like Axelrod had seen operators break. He may have been one of them.

Why the Medical Exam Was Mandatory

Axelrod orders a “complete physical examination” by doctors with no knowledge of the mission. This is a detail that makes sense only if:

• previous operators experienced internal or neurological effects;
• they needed a baseline to compare against;
• they could not risk any doctor learning what Ingo had actually encountered; and/or
• they were checking whether the device had “followed” him internally.

This is the kind of protocol used for exposure to exotic radiation, neurological shock, or a system that interacts with cognition itself.

The Crucial Takeaway

Ingo was one of the most stable, disciplined, and powerful psychics ever measured in a laboratory. And even he barely withstood the interaction. That single fact would have terrified any group trying to operate the device. If Ingo could only survive a brief encounter (and only with handlers physically pulling him out) then the device posed an operational threat far beyond ordinary classified technology.

Why the Mission Ended

This is why Axelrod’s final statement lands like a quiet verdict: “Our mission will be disbanded shortly… the work picked up by others.” Not canceled. Not failed. Transferred. 

Once they established that a human mind could interact with the device, the interaction was real, the operator was at risk, and even a super-psychic like Ingo could barely tolerate the contact, the research no longer belonged anywhere near any FOIA-accessible environment.

The project had crossed a threshold, from speculative curiosity into dangerous operational reality.

Which meant it had to disappear underground.

The Black Triangle and the Possible Engineers Behind It

In Penetration, Ingo describes a massive triangular device, strikingly similar to today’s “black triangle” UAPs. This was more than a sighting. Ingo implies he was briefly drawn into a group attempting to study a revolutionary technology that did not originate within normal aerospace engineering.

A modern echo of this appears in a 2022 exchange between Eric Weinstein and Dr. Hal Puthoff on Jesse Michels’ American Alchemy. When asked whether aerospace companies hold physics and materials knowledge that is not their own and not shared with academia, Puthoff answers plainly: “It may be wrong, but it’s true… I know it’s true.” He adds that this information is shielded from FOIA through corporate secrecy.

This is precisely the type of situation Ingo alluded to decades earlier.

Affluent Backers and a CIA-Linked Engineering Group

Ingo’s narrative places him among wealthy individuals who show interest in his abilities, people with the reach and networks that naturally overlap with aerospace programs and intelligence work.

Jacques Vallée provides an important parallel in Forbidden Science Vol. 2:

In 1974, CIA analyst Kit Green told Vallée that a group of 15 engineers in the Midwest was conducting UFO research for the CIA under the cover of “aeronautical research.” Vallée suspected McDonnell Douglas in St. Louis, created by aerospace industrialist James McDonnell, later one of the men Ingo personally meets.

1977: Remote Viewing as a Cover for Something Else

In 1977, SRI’s CIA funding was drying up. Edgar Mitchell, it has been reported, asked CIA director George H.W. Bush for support, but Bush (facing Congressional scrutiny) said Remote Viewing could continue only with military sponsorship.

Ingo later suggested that Remote Viewing wasn’t the real project. Instead, a deeper “ultra-subterranean mission” was operating underneath it... something that required a classified project as camouflage.

Suddenly, multiple agencies began funding SRI:

Foreign Technology Division (Air Force): RV for intelligence

INSCOM (Army): Operational RV units

Missile Intelligence Agency (MIA): Beginning Aug 1977

• Backed by von Braun’s team.
• Interested in consciousness interacting with electronics.

AMSSA: Beginning 1978

• Focused on advanced technologies and weapons systems.
• This is the exact period when the black-triangle narrative begins.

In August 1977, Trammell Crow writes to Ingo, saying he plans to visit him in New York at the end of September, marking the start of the three-month window Ingo later emphasizes in his story. Before that meeting occurs, Ingo travels to Washington, D.C. for an SRI-related event and remains there for eleven days. Upon returning to California, he resumes Remote Viewing work on nuclear test sites for various defense clients.

On October 11, 1977, Jacques Vallée delivers a private technical presentation in Dallas to a group assembled by Crow. The attendees include:

• The mayor of Dallas.
• The Hunt family.
• A major financial CEO.
• GE’s general counsel.
• An IBM vice president.
• A Xerox vice president.

Vallée’s topic: UFO technology and spacetime topology, an advanced physics framework well beyond the public conversation of the time. This indicates that powerful business leaders were already quietly funding or following exotic-technology research and may have had an interest in psi-assisted intelligence work.

Project A Begins

On October 17, 1977 Ingo writes to Crow about their joint effort, Project A (Crow calls it Compass). Ingo reports the project is nearly complete and recommends the creation of a joint account to pay the participating viewers. During this period, Ingo also invites Crow to visit SRI for further briefings, showing that Crow’s funding and influence were becoming directly integrated into SRI’s work.

In November 1977, Ingo begins deeper work on Project A/Compass. Both he and Crow describe it as “the smaller of the two projects,” implying a larger, more consequential operation forming in the background.

Ingo Visits McDonnell Douglas

On November 17, 1977, Ingo sends a personal letter to aerospace magnate McDonnell, thanking him for the hospitality shown during Ingo’s recent visit and noting how “encouraging” and impressive the entire operation was. He mentions meeting McDonnell’s associates, suggesting he was introduced to a select group tied to advanced aerospace or intelligence efforts. Many researchers believe Ingo was shown something significant during this visit.

Project Xerox Begins

When Crow’s funding hits SRI’s system in late November 1977, a second effort launches: Project Xerox, a program aimed at “copying” or duplicating something. Its sudden appearance, especially following Vallée’s highly technical UFO lecture earlier that month (attended by a Xerox executive), suggests it may have been created in direct response to that meeting. 

On November 29, 1977, Ingo writes to McDonnell with specific details about Project Xerox and promises further updates. McDonnell replies, wishing him success in his California work, showing continued interest and support.

The Southwest Trip

In December 1977, Crow reaches out once more, saying he wants to discuss “the overarching project” during his January visit to SRI. The way he refers to it suggests the visit was routine rather than unusual.

In late December 1977, Ingo writes to McDonnell describing a powerful attraction to the American Southwest, especially southwestern Arizona. His tone implies more than casual interest; it reads like a professional insistence: he needs to see the environment connected to the project they are pulling him into.

Late December → Early January: He Makes the Trip

Shortly afterward, Ingo does travel through the region. We know this because in a Remote Viewing session documented on January 5, 1978 in Advanced Threat Technique Assessment, he says: “When I was on my trip we drove through an area… with lots of low, covered-in-the-ground storage facilities…”

Why the Trip Mattered: Analytical Overlay and the Need to See the Object

In Penetration, Ingo explains a central challenge in Remote Viewing unfamiliar technology: when the mind encounters something unknown, it replaces it with the nearest familiar image, a process he calls analytical overlay or an AOL. A nuclear reactor becomes a “teapot.” A propulsion chamber becomes a “furnace.” Exotic technology becomes something ordinary. Only by exposing a viewer to diagrams or real structures does their perception become accurate.

This helps explain why Ingo insisted on seeing the object in its physical setting.

If he was being asked to describe something beyond 1970s engineering, he needed firsthand sensory exposure so his perceptions wouldn’t collapse into familiar imagery. He put it simply: the viewer must be taught to see the “reactor,” not the “teapot.”

The Hidden Engineering Group at SRI

In Jim Marrs’ Psi Spies, Ingo explains that he trained two groups: The documented Army Remote Viewing unit, whose history is now well known. A completely hidden group, described as:

• working under false identities;
• composed largely of engineers;
• gathering materials from SRI’s labs; and
• and attempting to construct the objects they perceived during sessions.

This second group seemed to behave nothing like intelligence officers, and everything like technical personnel engaged in applied research or early-stage reverse engineering. It implies that some part of SRI’s program was supporting engineering, not just data collection.

A Plausible Match: The Missile Intelligence Agency (MIA)

A declassified Grill Flame–era document describes an MIA program whose structure closely matches what Ingo described:

• Phase One: Conducted at SRI, focused on “software and hardware,” meaning viewer training, cognitive methods, and experimental instrumentation.
• Phase Two: Conducted at Redstone Arsenal, inside a missile-development R&D laboratory, staffed by engineers and weapons-systems specialists, working with sensitive electronic systems.

In short, the document states that MIA planned to send a technical group to SRI for training and then move them into an engineering environment. That is exactly the pattern Ingo described: a hidden group of engineers trained at SRI, then engaged in classified technical work. We cannot say the groups were identical, but the alignment is unusually specific.

AiResearch

A separate CIA document from 1976 adds further context. That year, the agency solicited bids for a study of Soviet parapsychology and psychotronics. Garrett AiResearch, a major subcontractor for NASA and McDonnell Douglas, bid on the contract and was awarded it. The resulting report, authored by Dr. E.C. Wortz, now sits openly in the CIA Reading Room. To understand why AiResearch was involved, it helps to know what they built:

• high-sensitivity aerospace electronics;
• cryogenic and environmental systems for spacecraft (Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, Skylab);
• thermal-control systems;
• avionics and power-conditioning units; and
• missile and guidance components.

These are precisely the types of electronics that would be affected in experiments testing whether consciousness can perturb instrumentation, the core Soviet psychotronics question.

AiResearch’s involvement appears to show that:

• U.S. aerospace subcontractors were already exploring mind–electronics interactions;
• the work was being conducted under intelligence oversight; and
• engineers in these environments were possibly active participants in anomalous-technology research.

Why They Needed Ingo

Taken together: Ingo had just traveled through terrain similar to where the craft was reportedly stored. He understood how to overcome analytical overlay, the key to identifying unfamiliar technology. A hidden team of engineers was operating inside SRI’s Remote Viewing program. MIA records show that a technical group was slated to train at SRI before transferring to an R&D command. AiResearch’s CIA-funded psychotronics study appears to shows that aerospace engineers were potentially already working in similar domains. Within this context, Ingo’s insistence on seeing the object, and the effort made to accommodate him, makes sense.

His role was not simply to “view” the device. It may have been to help produce a functional psychic schematic for engineers facing technology beyond their existing vocabulary.

Postscript: The Trail After Ingo

1979: McDonnell funds a psi research laboratory at Washington University.

1982: Dr. Robert Wood (McDonnell Douglas) publicly links Remote Viewing and UFO technology.

1984: INSCOM meets with McDonnell Douglas regarding profiling people for psychoenergetic ability.

1985: The Missile Intelligence Agency (MIA) is reorganized into the Missile and Space Intelligence Center (MSIC), the U.S. Army’s primary center for analyzing foreign missile and aerospace technologies, including propulsion, guidance systems, and advanced materials. In the same year, Puthoff leaves SRI to pursue advanced propulsion research.

1997: Dr. Wood states publicly that alien technology is replicable.

This is just a theory, but here’s one way the pieces might fit together.

By the early to mid-1990s, the U.S. Remote Viewing program had drifted far from its original structure. What began as a disciplined perceptual protocol designed by Ingo gradually devolved, in some units, into looser practices: channeling, tarot, mediumship, and other methods that had nothing to do with Controlled Remote Viewing. Things were unraveling.

Jim Marrs, in Alien Agenda, quotes Remote Viewer Mel Riley on what he saw happening:

My conclusion is a sad one… It had been carefully developed for over 24 years by a group of dedicated people… What I then found was a couple of space cowboys, drunk in the heart of the temple, destroying the covenant.

Riley is no longer here to clarify his meaning, but one plausible reading is this: Riley believed Remote Viewing worked. He believed it had been refined, protected, and stewarded by people who took it seriously (Ingo, Puthoff, Targ, the early SRI circle).

And he believed that certain individuals (“space cowboys”) were operating recklessly, violating protocol, and contaminating the work.

“Drunk in the heart of the temple” may not mean literal alcohol. It may mean intoxicated by power, ego, or by whatever nonhuman forces the program was brushing up against. If so, they were jeopardizing the “covenant,” the structured, disciplined, reality-based method of engaging anomalous phenomena.

So what happens if a program (theoretically) designed to observe UFOs begins to disturb whatever is behind them? Ingo gave a blunt hint about the consequences on Coast to Coast AM:

They didn’t want to ever have Remote Viewing connected with anything extraterrestrial. Because if you put those two things together, you get a developing situation that chains of command don’t know how to manage.

Meaning: Link Remote Viewing to UFOs publicly, and suddenly the military must admit it cannot control either.

The Possible Plan

Again, speculation, not assertion. But consider the sequence:

1994: The program is quietly shifted from DIA to CIA.

This is odd, because the CIA had already shown discomfort about involvement with paranormal projects. Moving it there could have been the first step in “managing” the fallout.

Early 1995: High-level briefings intensify.

A declassified SAIC memo from March 1995 describes Ingo, a decade retired, holding meetings with well-placed intelligence officials… specifically about extraterrestrials. This is not normal behavior for a program supposedly being shut down.

September 20, 1995: Robert Bigelow creates NIDS.

Nine days before the American Institutes for Research publishes its scathing report dismissing Remote Viewing as useless, Bigelow quietly launches the National Institute for Discovery Science, explicitly focused on paranormal and UFO phenomena.

This seems like classic “hide-in-plain-sight” timing.

Public message: Remote Viewing is nonsense; nothing to see here.

Private message: UFO research is moving into a new, insulated structure.

Vallée, Puthoff, and Alexander join NIDS.

One by one, key figures from the earlier Remote Viewing–UFO nexus migrate to the new institution.

A decade later Bigelow receives $22M in covert Pentagon funding (via Senator Harry Reid), which flows into investigations of hyper-dimensional “hotspots” like Mt. Wilson and Skinwalker Ranch.

And the real work (whatever it was) moved into deeper shadows, under organizations that could operate outside public scrutiny and outside traditional military command structures.

Ingo’s own warning echoes behind all this:

Once you connect Remote Viewing with extraterrestrials, you create a situation the chain of command cannot handle.

When you can’t control the phenomenon, and you can’t control the people interacting with it, you shut down the visible program…

…and continue the true mission somewhere no one is looking.