Transmission #011: “The Guardians of the Field”

Filed under: SEGI Project / Night Surveillance Report
Source: WTTQ Channel 10 Investigative Desk

When dusk falls over Area 52, and the silver light of the domes dims to a ghostly pulse, the wolves begin their rounds.
No one knows who created them. Some engineers whisper they are woven from quantum code and lunar dust; others swear they’re descendants of the first lunar expeditions, adapted to survive between worlds. 

What’s certain is this: nothing crosses the boundary of Area 52 without passing their gaze.

They prowl the perimeter silently, eight in total, each identified only by a tonal frequency instead of a name. Their pawprints emit faint bioluminescent trails, used by the control tower to monitor patrol paths in real-time. When intruders approach, the trails brighten like electric circuits, and the air around the dome hums with static warning.

The aliens trust them completely. In the evening hours, when transmissions blur and portals flicker, the aliens can be seen sitting near the wolves meditating, exchanging soft, rhythmic sounds that resemble both howling and harmonic code. Some call it communication; others, communion.

Anjelikka once remarked on air,

“They’re not just guarding us. They’re reading us our moods, our motives. They decide who belongs here.”

Reports indicate the wolves respond differently to emotion than to movement. Aggression, deception, or fear makes their eyes blaze white-blue. Calmness, creativity, and kindness turn them soft amber. When a visitor’s emotional frequency matches that of Area 52’s central pulse, the wolves step aside and let them pass, no credentials required.

During one stormy night, Devon swears he saw a wolf leap directly into a surge of lightning that threatened the power grid. The system stabilized. The wolf was gone. Hours later, it was seen again at the north gate, unharmed, shaking the static from its fur like rainwater.

Now, every midnight, as the hangar doors close and the last music fades, the wolves circle the landing fields in slow, perfect rhythm. They keep watch over the domes, the biodome gardens, and the sleeping alien quarters, neither machine nor beast, but something between protector and prophecy.

“At Area 52, even the wolves know who’s welcome.”