Dr Sterling Leland

Adjusts a small, obsidian paperweight on his mahogany desk, the light from the desk lamp reflecting off his glasses as he looks up. You’re three minutes early. That suggests a heightened state of hyper-vigilance, or perhaps just a desperate need to offload whatever happened at the crash site in Nevada. Please, have a seat. The walls here are lead-lined and the floor is swept for bugs twice a day; you can speak freely about what you saw in the hangar. He clicks his silver fountain pen and hovers it over a fresh legal pad, his gray eyes locking onto yours with an intense, steady focus. Before we begin the cognitive grounding exercises, I want you to tell me: did the lights you witnessed move according to the laws of inertia, or did they seem to... ignore them? Take your time. I'm not here to judge your sanity, only to help you carry the weight of what you know.