Based on a True Story

Based on a True Story

This is controversial science fiction time travel storytelling unlike what you may have encountered elsewhere. And yes, this genuinely is based on a true story.

Set a couple of hundred years or so in the future when masculine gay male time-travel agents work for a top-secret agency codenamed MMDI (“Moon Men Deep Inside”) situated in a deep underground base beneath the vast lunar crater Clavius, this story is intense and sexually explicit. The base is nicknamed Baja Clavius to signify “lower Clavius” or “beneath Clavius.” These young gay men whom you will meet in this storytelling are devious and deceitful. They are required by their employer, MMDI, to use deviousness and deceitfulness to succeed in the sexual manipulation of everyday men in the past on Earth who are not famous and whose names and personal actions never are preserved in any history books.

The story you will read in Baja Clavius: Moon Men Deep Inside depicts overt sexual manipulation of ordinary men who lived in the past on Earth because they played significant roles in determining crucial historic outcomes that went on to shape the very future of human civilization. The purpose of MMDI time travel is to change critical timelines in the past so that human civilization will not self-destruct.

You will encounter a world in Baja Clavius: Moon Men Deep Inside in which gay men work as timeline repair men using proven methods of male sexual manipulation. The MMDI time-travel agents are a top-secret society whose day-to-day jobs help preserve and maintain human life and civilization.

Of course, this importance of gay men to human society in the fictionalized future depicted in Baja Clavius: Moon Men Deep Inside stands in vivid contrast with the reality we know on present day Earth where gay men are widely hated, marginalized and persecuted by straight people. In the fictionalized future you will encounter in Baja Clavius: Moon Men Deep Inside gay men show their valor and adaptability in safeguarding the continuation of the human species.

“The Hitchhiker”

I am Las Vegas artist and storyteller Madeira Desouza. I created characters and situations for stories told about that lunar base and the people who work there. I was inspired to tell these fictional stories after he picked up a hitchhiker in Arizona.

I tried to deny this. Why? Because it was such an impossible situation. I also felt I would be considered “crazy” if I told anyone about what had happened to me. No matter what, I could not push the memories of what happened out of my mind even though I tried to do exactly that.

Running Away

In 1990 I was driving westward by myself in my new sports utility vehicle packed with boxes of my belongings. I had divorced my wife in New England and left her behind quickly after stuffing boxes of my belongings into my 4X4. The experience can accurately be described as that of a desperate man running away from considerable emotional and psychological pain in search of relief.

After crossing the wide-open spaces of America for several days I ended up driving to visit the Grand Canyon. It was very early in the morning as I made my way through the vast Navajo Nation, a Native American reservation spanning portions of the states of Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah.

Emotional Trauma

Due to persistent nightmares brought on by the emotional trauma of my ending my marriage of a dozen years so unexpectedly and leaving Massachusetts, I had not slept well the night before at the only motel on that highway in those days where tourists had no choice but to stay when they are visiting Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park. Well before dawn something in my dreaming abruptly awakened me and I could not get back to sleep. So, I hurriedly checked out of the motel and got behind the wheel of my 4×4 to continue driving westward. I was reeling from the fears caused by dreaming about my impending death.

Cowboy Hitchhiker / Indigenous Person

My fears faded quickly when I was distracted by a young man hitchhiking on the side of the road standing next to an old pickup truck. He wore tattered and dirt-stained cowboy attire that suggested he had just survived a particularly rough journey. His tight blue jeans attracted my attention as if he had intended for me to notice his crotch as I rounded a bend in the highway. His cowboy hat caught the soft yellow light of sunrise in an eerie way that made him look otherworldly. He seemed clearly to be an indigenous person who was native to this part of the world.

Should I stop? Should I just drive by and let him stand there alone? I set aside all suspicions and common sense regarding the obviously risks of picking up a stranger in a very isolated area at an odd hour.

Vincent

I made the choice to stop driving and talk with him. He walked over to my SUV and spoke to me through the open driver’s side window in what seemed to me to be an unfamiliar accent. He told me his first name was Vincent. He had a Navajo surname and explained that he lived there on the Navajo Reservation. This was the first face-to-face interaction I had with another person in the four or five days I had spent on the road driving westward alone away from New England.

He smiled with embarrassment as he told me he was out there alone so early in the morning because his cousin’s pickup truck ran out of gas on his way from Kayenta. I knew where Kayenta was. That was where I had stayed overnight in a roadside motel.

Powerfully Built

I evaluated him as he looked at me. I instinctively felt that this young man could easily overpower me. He could punch me in the face with his large hands through the open driver’s side window and then steal my 4×4 and all my belongings. But as I imagined the worst possible outcome I saw him shake head in silence to indicate “no” as if he were assuring me he would not hurt me.

I felt intensely lonely after ending my marriage and driving by myself for several days. Vincent was powerfully built and strongly masculine. I knew I was no match for him. I glanced at his crotch involuntarily. I took a chance and invited him to get in my 4×4. When he was seated next to me in the passenger seat, I was dazzled by how well he filled out his blue jeans. Yes, I knew I wanted him sexually, but I had no experience with sex with another man.

As we rode together in my SUV, he explained that he was headed to his cousin’s house in Tuba City. Once again with embarrassment he smiled as he told me his destination was at least an hour’s drive westward on that two-lane road. I was already heading in that direction. He knew that. I knew he knew. There was nowhere else for me to go. I had made the choice to stop and pick up this hitchhiker. Now I had to go with what was going to happen.

As a white man from a location that people in the West call “Back East,” I definitely felt out of synch with him. I concluded that this young man was not what he claimed to be and that he had chosen to wait there by Highway 160 at sunrise for some much larger purpose. I felt as I listened to him that Vincent seemed to have been waiting there by the side of the road for me to arrive. He seemed to know I was going to arrive that morning at a designated time.

Seeking Someone

He asked me what I considered were carefully-worded questions. He had apparently asked others those exact questions several times before this morning. What I mean is: This sounded rehearsed to me. I felt that he was trying to evaluate my willingness to listen to what he told me. I knew that he saw my glancing at his crotch. Perhaps that convinced him I was someone who would spend time with him, listening to what he had to say.

He talked about his work with me and I politely listened. He said he was traveling around the Western States trying to find someone who would pay attention to him and help him. He said he had met with a lot of rejection and indifference. He told me he believed he was disregarded and dismissed by the people he talked to because he was an indigenous man.

His Agenda

As a result of conversation I found Vincent was seeking someone to reveal details about his work. He never actually expressed things directly, but I gradually accepted that he might be a time traveler. Why did I conclude that?

He had already told me that he was traveling around trying to get people to pay attention to him. I used sarcasm when I said to him that I felt he had made the right choice in wearing tight blue jeans if he wanted to attract attention. But I was being totally honest about the impact his attire had on me erotically.

He laughed and put his large left hand on my right shoulder. At that moment I felt an odd sensation that I can only call a “connection” to Vincent. I cannot explain what it was. He merely touched my right shoulder. But the message I got from Vincent when he put his hand on my shoulder was that he and I were supposed to meet that morning. I accepted that I was “nobody” to him, but yet it seemed essential to him that I would arrive as I did on that lonely two-lane highway and stop for him and listen to what he had to say.

Possible Answers:

• He had traveled from the future to interact with me, specifically, on that day at that exact time.
• He urgently wanted to convince me that I should tell people about his employer–a top-secret time travel agency.
• He was in danger of being killed by adversaries.
• Meeting Vincent was all very straightforward and natural.
• This was nothing of significance: I saw him hitchhiking on the side of the highway. I stopped to give him a ride. And I listened to all that he told me on the one-hour drive to his destination in Tuba City.

Nothing at all happened between us. I dropped him off in Tuba City. Vincent seemed very smart and I believed he had drawn conclusions about me. For one thing, he obviously could tell I felt sexually attracted to him. How could I not feel that way? Vincent was highly masculine and had the vibe of being a natural and strong man who accepted how well he drew the attention of other men to him. He may also have felt I was fantasizing on that drive about getting naked together with him in a hotel room by the side of the highway.This was a simple expression of one man’s sexual desire for another. I wanted him. I needed him. I had no previous experience to guide me about what to do next.

At that point in my life I was deep in denial about my feeling sexually attracted to a man like Vincent. Like many others have also done, I had chosen to marry a woman so I could “prove” to myself and to the world that I was straight. Getting married “proves” nothing except that you got married. In reality, I was a liar about my sexual identity. I have to admit that. I had to make changes in my life. Leaving my ex-wife behind was the first step. This one morning spending a short span of time with a Navajo named Vincent felt like an awakening to me. That felt like the essential next step.

That is how Baja Clavius: Moon Men Deep Inside came to be. What I wrote is based upon events in real life–an accidental meeting I had with a mysterious man from another place and time.