The Maze Runner Series as Truth Hiding In Plain Sight

In the introductory chapters of the sequel to Maze Runner, the surviving Gladers led by Thomas make it through Trial One, the Maze, only to find themselves in Trial Two: the Scorch Trials. They have to journey across the wasteland that Earth has become, as pawns in some game they barely understand. Rat Man is issuing them instructions in a kind of bunker.

Rat Man is the face of WICKED, which stands for World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department.

Let’s read from page 68-70 of the novel by James Dashner, and then afterwards we will decode its meaning. But here is an initial key –

KEY 

• Thomas and the Gladers = Humanity
• Rat Man and his crew = The Illuminati, who are working for the Divergents (Greys, Reptilians, who are a fallen humanity from a parallel Earth, which we know as “Mars”)

Rat Man waited for an eternity, then slowly lowered himself back into the chair and scooted forwards to sit behind the desk once more. 

“You may think, or it may seem that we’re merely testing your ability to survive. On the surface, the Maze Trial could be mistakenly classified that way. But I assure you – this is not merely about survival and the will to live. That’s only part of the experiment. The bigger picture is something you won’t understand until the very end. 

“Sun flares have ravaged many parts of the earth. Also a disease unlike any before known to man has been ravaging the earth’s people – a disease called the Flare. For the first time, the governments of all nations – the surviving ones – are working together. They’ve combined forces to create WICKED – a group meant to fight the new problems of this world. You are a big part of that fight. And you’ll have every incentive to work with us, because, sad to say, each one of you has already caught the virus.”

He quickly held up his hands to cut off the rumblings that started. 

“Now, now! No need to worry – the Flare takes a while to set in and show symptoms. But at the end of these Trials, the cure will be your reward, and you’ll never see the…debilitating effects. Not may can afford the cure, you know.”

Thomas’s hand instinctively went to his throat, as if a soreness there were the first indicator that he’d caught the Flare. He remembered all too well what the woman on the rescue bus had told him after the Maze. About how the Flare destroyed your brain, slowly driving you insane and stripping you of the capacity to feel basic human emotions like compassion or empathy. About how it turned you into less than an animal.

He thought of the Cranks he’d seen through the dorm windows, and he suddenly wanted to run to the bathroom and scrub his hands and mouth clean. The guy was right – they had all the incentive they needed to make it through this next phase.

“But enough of this history lesson and time-wasting,” Rat Man continued. “We know you now. All of you. It doesn’t matter what I say or what’s behind the mission of WICKED. You’ll all do whatever it takes. Of this we have no doubt. And by doing what we ask, you’ll save yourselves by getting the very cure so many people desperately want.”

Thomas heard Minho groan next to him and worried about him throwing out another one of his smart-aleck remarks. Thomas shushed him before he could do it.

Rat Man looked down at the messy stack of papers lying in the open folder, picked up a loose piece of it, then turned it over, barely glancing at its contents. He cleared his throat. “Phase Two. The Scorch Trials. It officially begins tomorrow morning at six o-clock. You’ll enter this room and in the wall behind me you will find a Flat Trans. To your eyes the Flat Trans will appear as a shimmering wall of gray. Each of you must step through it by five minutes after the hour. So again, it opens at six o’clock and closes five minutes after that. Do you understand?

Thomas stared at Rat Man, transfixed. It almost felt as if he were watching a recording – as if the stranger weren’t really there. The other Gladers must’ve felt the same, because noone answered the simple question. What was a Flat Trans anyway?

“I’m quite certain you can all hear,” Rat Man said. “Do…you…under…stand?”

Thomas nodded; a few boys around him murmured quiet yeahs and yeses.

“Good.” Rat Man absently picked up another piece of paper and turned it over. “At that point the Scorch Trials will have begun. The rules are very simple. Find your way to open air, then head due north for one hundred miles. Make it to the safe haven within two weeks time and you’ll have completed Phase Two. At that point, and only at that point, you’ll be cured of the Flare. That’s exactly two weeks – starting the second you step through the Trans. If you don’t make it, eventually you’ll end up dead.”

The room should’ve erupted into arguments, questions, panic. But noone said a word. Thomas felt as if his tongue had dried up into an old, crusty root.

“It’s simple really,” he said, his tone so matter-of-fact one would think he’s just given them instructions on how to turn on the showers in the bathroom. “There are no rules. There are no guidelines. You have few supplies, and there’s nothing to help you along the way. Go through the Flat Trans at the time indicated. Find open air. Go one hundred miles, directly north, to the safe haven. Make it or die.”

***

Greys and Reptilians Attempt to Re-enter the Life Wave Through Rape and Deception

Now let’s remove the veil, put on our “They Live” glasses and read the passage again

KEY, cont’d 

• Flare virus = COVID HOAX 
• Sun spots ravaging Earth = Climate Change HOAX
• Cranks/zombies =  Greys, aliens, etc. or divergent humans from a fallen timeline represented  by Mars
• WICKED = the Illuminati, the elites
• The “cure to the virus” = alien hybridization via the DNA of abducted Earth humans in attempt to brute-force their way back into the Life Wave and escape the 8th sphere and eventual oblivion
• Rat Man = Fauci, Bill Gates, Elon Musk, etc.
• Journey across the Scorch – metaphor for lowering humanity’s vibration to match that of a dead planet

Dr. Fauci waited for an eternity then slowly lowered himself back into the chair and scooted forward to sit behind the desk once more. He spoke on all the news networks before humanity:

“You may think, or it may seem that we’re merely testing your ability to survive. On the surface, all the false flags and world wars could be mistakenly classified that way. But I assure you – this is not merely about survival and the will to live. That’s only part of the experiment. The bigger picture is something you won’t understand until the very end. 

Climate changes have ravaged many parts of the earth and will continue to do so. Also a disease unlike any before known to man has been ravaging the earth’s people – a disease called COVID-19. For the first time, the governments of all nations – the surviving ones – are working together. They’ve combined forces to create the ILLUMINATI- a group meant to fight the new problems of this world. You are a big part of that fight. And you’ll have every incentive to work with us, because, sad to say, each one of you has already caught the virus.”

He quickly held up his hands to cut off the rumblings of the peoples and nations of Earth that started. 

“Now, now Earthlings! No need to worry – COVID-19 takes a while to set in and show symptoms. But at the end of these Vaccine Trials, the cure will be your reward, and you’ll never see the…debilitating effects. Not may can afford the cure, you know.”

Thomas’s hand instinctively went to his throat, as if a soreness there were the first indicator that he’d caught the ‘Rona. Millions upon millions of people started obsessively washing and sanitizing their hands, wearing masks, social distancing, and jabbing themselves with experimental gene modifiers full of black goo nanites. It became the norm to stay home and hook up to fake Sims and pseudo-realities. Fauci’s Martian comrade Elon Musk was preparing that with his Neuralink. 

Fauci remembered all too well how his Martian population had done similar – this was the start of what slowly drove them insane, stripped them of their capacity to feel basic human emotions like compassion or empathy; how in the end it turned them into less than an animal. It was only a matter of time before they destroyed their timeline and their planet, turning it into a Scorched Earth. Luckily they salvaged their time travel tech and were able to worm their way into this present humanity’s timeline, and right at a time when these crucial choices had to be made – to stay organic, or to take the inorganic path.

By creating this paranoia over an invisible virus, the Illuminati had created all the incentive they needed to make humanity willingly go through this next phase.

“But enough of this history lesson and time-wasting,” Fauci continued. “We know you now. All of you. It doesn’t matter what I say or what’s behind the mission of the ILLUMINATI. You’ll all do whatever it takes. Of this we have no doubt. And by doing what we ask, you’ll save yourselves by getting the very cure so many people desperately want.”

Thomas heard Minho (a Truther) groan next to him and worried about him throwing out another one of his smart-aleck remarks. Thomas shushed him before he could do it.

Fauci looked down at the messy stack of papers lying in the open folder, picked up a loose piece of it, then turned it over, barely glancing at its contents. He cleared his throat. “Phase Two: Vaccination Trials. It officially begins tomorrow morning at six o-clock. You’ll receive two jabs and probably additional boosters until we are satisfied that your DNA is sufficiently degraded to the point that our Divergent population can hybridize with you.  Do you understand?”

Thomas and the rest of humanity stared at Fauci, transfixed. It almost felt as if they were watching a recording – as if the stranger wasn’t really there. The others must’ve felt the same, because no one answered the simple question. What was a Divergent anyway?

“I’m quite certain you can all hear,” Fauci said. “Do…you…under…stand?”

Millions nodded; some murmured quiet yeahs and yeses.

“Good.” Fauci absently picked up another piece of paper and turned it over. “Once you’ve degraded your God-given DNA, we will initiate Phase Three: Hybridization Trials. The plan is very simple. There will be an “arrival” of alien ships over your skies of every major city across Earth, and a fleet of our Divergent greys and reptilians will come out into the open and convince humanity that we are your E.T. creators and benefactors to save you from a dying Earth and a killer virus. But for now, follow our vaccination protocol or you have no right to participate in society. Stay home and link up to the hive-mind grid Metaverse that Zuckerberg and Musk are preparing. At that point, and only at that point, you’ll be cured of the virus. We hope to have this done by 2048 – starting the second you take the first jab. If you don’t take the shot, eventually you’ll end up dead.”

The room should’ve erupted into arguments, questions, panic. But no one said a word. Thomas felt as if his tongue had dried up into an old, crusty root.

“It’s simple really,” Fauci said, his tone so matter-of-fact one would think he’d just given them instructions on how to turn on the showers in the bathroom. “There is no other hope. There are no spirit guides. You have no soul, and there’s nothing like a God to help you along the way. We are your creator gods. Haven’t you been watching the History Channel? Go through the protocols when indicated. Mask up, protect yourself, protect each other. Do it or die.”