“UAP could disrupt markets and lead to irrational financial behaviors. If investors react to sensationalized reports or unfounded fears, it could create bubbles or crashes in certain sectors, and it is our responsibility to anticipate which sectors would crash, which sectors would soar, and put our money in those sectors. UAP represent a golden opportunity to increase our profits if we manage the situation wisely. So, answering your question, there will be a graded, bit-by-bit disclosure depending on how successful we are in identifying new markets, and yes, disclosure does not depend on governments, it depends on us: the market.”
While it’s hardly unusual for “the market” to speak with such blunt cynicism regarding investments, this statement is not—as far as we know— an offilcial one. However, it feels like a perfect transcript of what might have been whispered behind closed doors during the restricted-access briefing David Grusch delivered to a select group of investors in early 2024. This followed his explosive congressional testimony regarding covert crash-retrieval programs and reverse-engineered non-human craft—one of which was allegedly “larger on the inside than the outside.” As outlandish as that may be sound, the idea runs deep through the phenomenon, echoing back to ancient, mythic archetypes.
The Invisible Hand of Disclosure
In fact, the statement comes from a website that for over a decade has captivated conspiracy-minded readers and amateur cryptographers alike: Forgotten Languages.
The site is a strange tapestry of English and so-called “forgotten” tongues—artificial constructs that many have tried to crack, with varying degrees of success. For the purposes of this article, we’ll ignore the encoded sections; the plain English alone is provocative enough.
Ciphers and Cosmic Collisions
"We know that in the year 2027 there will be a collision with an asteroid; we know its dimensions, its orbit, and we have calculated with absolute certainty the devastating effects that such a collision will have on terrestrial civilization. It will not be lethal, but it will only be the first of three collisions, the last of which will be a mass extinction event. According to the simulations, anything living dies. So, why contacting them?'"
As with most entries on the site, no source is provided. Yet, the claim sits within a striking hypothesis: an advanced extraterrestrial civilization would have little reason to initiate contact with a species destined to vanish in less than a millennium. In this case, Sol 3—the third planet from the sun: Earth. Lacking further data, we could safely dismiss this as pure speculation, were it not for one significant detail: the publication date—June 2022.
The Five-Year Warning
That same year, Lue Elizondo—the former intelligence officer who reportedly resigned over the secrecy surrounding UFO investigations—dropped a cryptic remark that quickly became lore in UFO circles. “Get yourself a hobby,” he is said to have advised, “for the next five years—because then everything will become clear.”
For anyone capable of doing the math, 2022 plus five equals 2027. For some, it hinted at official acknowledgment of non-human intelligence on Earth. For the more optimistic, open contact. For skeptics, just another moving goalpost in the endlessly deferred promise of “disclosure.” The claim that Elizondo made that remark comes from another intelligence insider—now a whistleblower—John Ramírez, who appears to be under fewer constraints. Ramírez went even further, suggesting that by 2027 “they” would openly reveal themselves to mankind.
We are left with a grim dilemma: either the visitors reveal themselves, or an asteroid strikes. Unless, of course, the visitors arrive hours later, once the planet has been conveniently cleared of Homo sapiens. It would be, if nothing else, pragmatically efficient.
What do both scenarios have in common? Either way, it’s quite a show. And one gets the sense that someone, somewhere, has been planning the production. July 2027 will mark the 80th anniversary of the alleged Roswell crash. It won't be just another commemoration; it would be a fitting occasion to unveil whatever has been kept under wraps—be it real or manufactured. Or perhaps a time for the “relatives” of the fallen visitors to arrive and settle old accounts.
The Denial Zone: No Friends Among the Stars
And if this sounds cynical, consider another excerpt from Forgotten Languages, voiced by what appears to be an astrophysicist tasked with "poisoning" the solar system to deter outsiders:
"Crashing our spacecrafts against the surface of Jupiter or Saturn once their mission is over is not just for fun. In fact, that is the most important part of the mission. First, we don't want to leave behind any trace of our own technological civilization for others to find them; second, cyanophytes survive the impact, get it?"
"There was a photometric event indicative of extraterrestrial activity on that moon. This was not a pointed search, but rather the luck of observing that moon at the right time. See, our entire solar system is our own area of denial, we want no one around, and we do not believe in that rubbish called 'cosmic club' or 'stellar friendship'. We are not here to make friends; we are here to survive."
Why give any weight to the fictions of Forgotten Languages? Simply because several high-profile UAP whistleblowers have referenced or shared them on social media.
Eighty Years of Silence
The site holds many more gems, but we will stop here. What stands out is that these scenarios—however disturbing or fictional—feel uncomfortably plausible. The long-awaited contact may not be something we should welcome, but the decision isn't ours. The public has already handed its destiny over to a small circle of actors who spent eighty years insisting there was nothing to see, only to pivot in 2017—via the front page of The New York Times—and suggest that it was all real after all.
And if 2027 passes without a world-shaking event, and no ontological shock destroyed this post, there will always be someone ready to point out—perhaps not without reason—that “only twenty years remain” to round out a full century of waiting.