A Tale from 2084

The year was 2084, and the city of Chicago had transformed into a sprawling, buzzing metropolis. In the decades preceding this moment, technology had turned the skies above into a new freeway system. Small, personal flight vehicles glided effortlessly through the air, connecting homes, offices, and cities with unprecedented ease. The need for roads, ground transport, and even traditional public transportation had diminished to a memory. Chicago, once known for its towering skyscrapers and sprawling streets, was now dominated by sleek flying machines darting from one neon-lit building to another, creating a never-ending hum.

But in the spring of 2084, something strange began to happen. The first sightings of Unidentified Flying Objects—UFOs, they were now calling them—appeared over the skies of Chicago. At first, it was just one or two reports, and no one gave them much thought. After all, the skies were filled with so many flying vehicles that an odd flashing light or erratic movement could easily be explained away. But then, it grew. Hundreds of sightings, day and night, across the city. The objects were silent, fast, and seemingly impervious to the eye. Some witnesses claimed they saw shapes unlike anything they had ever seen—floating, hovering, darting between buildings with eerie precision.

By June, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) made a stunning decision. They banned all flights within a 100-mile radius of Chicago. Officially, it was for “safety concerns related to the increasing UFO activity.” Unofficially, no one asked why the ban was so sudden, nor why the sightings appeared to be confined only to this one area. Everyone just accepted it. After all, the city was buzzing with excitement in anticipation of the 4th of July, and no one was too concerned with strange lights in the sky when the holiday brought with it the promise of fireworks, parties, and the usual distractions.

But there was something more sinister unfolding beneath the surface of this strange occurrence, something that would take years to surface. It started in the spring, when a report was released from a government-run research laboratory just outside the city. The report revealed that a new military-grade explosive, code-named Emerald Blue, had gone missing from the facility. The report was brief, vague, and barely made a ripple in the media. No one knew what Emerald Blue was, and those who did weren’t inclined to ask. A few small articles were published about the missing explosive, but they too were quickly buried under the weight of the more immediate and captivating news of UFO sightings.

As the weeks passed, the frequency of the UFO reports only increased. By July, it was clear that something unprecedented was unfolding over the city. And it wasn’t just the sightings; strange electrical disruptions, malfunctioning equipment, and weird atmospheric conditions were reported. Yet, the government remained silent.

Then came the ban on flight.

The world, ever more accustomed to the absence of tangible answers, simply shrugged. No one questioned why the FAA had imposed the restrictions, or why they were so strictly enforced. No one questioned why the skies over Chicago were suddenly forbidden territory. It was simply a necessary precaution—right?

But years later, when a man lay on his deathbed in 2099, the truth came spilling out.

The man had been a low-level agent of a shadowy government organization known only by its acronym: IAC. A department within the United States government that operated far beyond the reach of ordinary citizens, the IAC had been tasked with carrying out the most secretive and most dangerous of operations. His involvement with the IAC had started years before, when the so-called “Onion Field” operation had been set into motion. The operation was named after the ancient Native American word for Chicago—Chicagou, which, translated, meant “Onion Field.”

The mission, as he had learned over the years, was to create a false flag event of unprecedented proportions, one that would rally the American public behind a new war—a war with Canada.

It had all started with the missing Emerald Blue explosives. The IAC had secretly requisitioned the materials to create a device capable of creating an event so catastrophic that it would provide the perfect pretext for a war. But they needed an excuse to carry out the operation without raising suspicion. They needed to make sure the world would believe it was someone else who was responsible.

So, they needed to stop the citizens of Chicago from documenting what was about to take place. The small flying vehicles, so ubiquitous in the sky, were a major problem. Cameras were now in every vehicle—every one of them potentially capturing footage of what the IAC had planned. The ban on flights within a 100-mile radius was issued not out of concern for safety, but as a strategic move to prevent anyone from recording what was about to unfold.

In early June, just weeks before the 4th of July, the IAC deployed a device loaded with Emerald Blue to the heart of the city. The device, once activated, would create a massive explosion that would be mistaken for an attack. But who would they blame? The answer was simple: Canada.

For decades, tensions between the United States and Canada had simmered under the surface, fueled by disputes over resources—oil, gold, silver, and natural gas. These resources were increasingly valuable, and a small group of wealthy men—those in control of the military-industrial complex—wanted them for themselves. The only way to seize these resources was to create a pretext for war, and what better excuse than a false flag operation?

The explosion, triggered just days before the 4th of July, was blamed on Canadian forces, who were said to have crossed the border and launched an unprovoked attack on the city. The citizens of Chicago, already shaken by the UFO sightings and the mysterious flight ban, were easily manipulated. The public outrage was immediate. The call for war was deafening. The nation, gripped by fear and patriotism, rallied around the government’s call for retaliation. The false narrative worked.

The war with Canada was swift and brutal. Four years of bloody conflict followed, during which over 936,000 lives were lost. By 2099, Canada had surrendered. The wealth of the nation—its oil, gold, silver, and natural gas—was claimed by those who had orchestrated the war. They had what they wanted.

But this victory, the man on his deathbed explained, was just the beginning. The masterminds behind Operation Onion Field had already set their sights on the next target—the next victim. The gears of war were in motion once more, and as the man’s life flickered away, he left behind a note—a warning. The story of what had happened was now known, but the world had learned nothing. The same forces, the same corrupt individuals, would continue to use fear and manipulation to shape the future for their benefit.

The Onion Field had been sown. And there was no turning back.