I started noticing them in the margins, not in history books, not in academic journals, but in photographs.
Old photographs, the kind with that sepia grain that makes everything feel both more real and less certain.
Photographs of people, extraordinarily tall people, people who shouldn’t exist according to the comfortable narrative we’ve inherited about human physical limits and evolutionary constants.
And then they were gone.
Not gradually, not through some documented decline in average height or slow genetic drift.
we can trace through medical records.
They simply stopped appearing.
Somewhere around 1800, maybe 1850 at the latest, the photographic record shifts.
The giants disappear.
And the deeper I looked into this absence, the more it seemed to correspond with something else, something we’ve already explored in this series, the rapid disappearance of Tartaria itself.
The correlations seem too precise to be coincidental.
Let me be clear about what I’m seeing.
These aren’t circus performers.
These aren’t the occasional genetic outliers we still see today.
People with gigantism or acromegaly documented and understood.
These are individuals frequently multiple individuals in the same photograph who appear to be 7 8 9 ft tall, sometimes more.
And they’re photographed not as curiosities but as normal members of society standing with families working construction sites wearing the clothes of soldiers of farmers of laborers.
They appear integrated into daily life in ways that suggest complete normaly for their era.
The pattern repeats with unsettling precision.
A photograph from Siberia circa 1870.
Three men standing beside a standard door frame.
The door frame itself is 12 ft high.
I measured it against the known dimensions of the building that still stands.
Two of the men are of normal height.
The third has to duck slightly.
He’s wearing workc clothes.
He looks bored.
This isn’t a staged photograph celebrating an anomaly.
It’s a work crew.
Another image.
This one from the American frontier dated 1883.
A group of railroad workers, seven men.
Three of them tower over the others by what appears to be three feet or more.
Again, workc clothes, tired faces, the casual posture of people who are simply working, not performing, not displayed.
The ordinariness of these images makes their content all the more extraordinary and disturbing to contemplate.
And here’s the strangest part.
These photographs exist in relative abundance up until a certain point.
Then they stop.
Not slowly, not with declining frequency.
They stop as if a switch was flipped, as if the giants themselves were suddenly no longer there to photograph.
This raises a simple but critical question.
Where did they go? And that’s where the mud flood becomes impossible to ignore.
We’ve documented the evidence in previous episodes.
Cities buried under meters of sediment.
First floors converted to basement, streets raised, entire ground level architecture submerged and forgotten.
The global pattern of what appears to be a catastrophic burial event occurring sometime in the mid to late 1800s.
The timing aligns almost perfectly with the disappearance of the giants from the photographic record.
Not close, not approximately, almost perfectly.
I found myself asking, “What if the mud flood wasn’t just a geological event? What if it was a reset, a deliberate eraser of not just buildings and infrastructure, but of the people who understood them, the beings who could operate them, maintain them, explain them? What if the physical burial of the old world coincided with the physical removal of its guardians? Look at what survives.
We have the shells of Tartarian buildings, repurposed, renamed, their original functions obscured or forgotten.
We have the basement windows and buried ground floors.
We have the two large doorways that now accommodate normalsized humans, though they seem perpetually oversized, perpetually excessive for their supposed purpose.
What we don’t have are the operators, the maintainers, the guardians, the giants are gone.
And with them went the operational knowledge of the civilization they protected.
In the previous investigation, we explored the possibility that these giants served as guardians of Tartarian knowledge and infrastructure.
The enormous doorways, the oversized architectural features, the basement windows that now sit at ground level.
All of this suggested beings who were quite literally larger than life.
Beings who might have maintained, protected, or even operated the advanced systems we’ve been documenting throughout this series.
The physical evidence points repeatedly toward operators of exceptional size and presumably exceptional capability, but guardians of what exactly? And why would they need to disappear? Consider the architecture again.
Not just its scale, but its purpose.
These buildings weren’t simply large.
They were sophisticated in ways that seemed to exceed the supposed technological capacity of their era.
Free energy systems, if the atmospheric electricity theories hold any water, harmonic resonance chambers, advanced water and air circulation, structures built with a precision that modern engineers struggle to explain, let alone replicate with the tools allegedly available in the 1800s.
The technological sophistication seems deliberately designed for operators who could work at an enhanced physical scale.
What if these giants weren’t just guardians of buildings, but of knowledge of operational knowledge? The kind of understanding that can’t be written down or easily transferred.
The kind that requires physical presence, demonstration, embodied expertise.
The official explanation collapses here because if these beings existed, and the photographic evidence suggests they did, then their sudden disappearance presents a crisis for conventional historical narratives.
You can’t simply lose an entire category of humanity without explanation, without records, without documentation of disease or conflict or any of the mechanisms by which populations decline.
Unless, of course, their disappearance was orchestrated.
Unless someone decided they needed to be removed from history entirely.
The deeper I went into historical records, what few exist, the more I noticed patterns of disruption that cluster around this same period.
The mid to late 1800s weren’t just a time of political upheaval or industrial revolution.
They were a time of strange silences in the historical record.
Hospital records that abruptly end.
Census data that becomes inconsistent or is lost entirely.
Whole years where certain types of documentation simply don’t exist, not destroyed in fires or wars, just missing as if they were never created in the first place or were systematically removed.
The gaps in documentation appear too consistent and too deliberate to be explained by simple neglect or accident.
And here’s where it gets uncomfortable.
What documentation to survive often contradicts itself.
Heights recorded in military records that seem impossibly tall.
Medical anomalies that are noted once, then never mentioned again.
References to unusually large individuals that appear in one source and are completely absent from another account of the same event.
The evidence suggests something much larger than simple recordkeeping errors.
Consider the photographs again, the ones that do exist.
Many of them have been corrected in subsequent reprintings.
The scale normalized.
The tall individuals reduced to normal proportions through careful cropping or in later years digital manipulation.
I’ve tracked down original glass plates and compared them to published versions.
The changes are undeniable.
Someone has been actively working to make these images disappear or at least to make them seem less anomalous, less impossible.
The effort to normalize or erase these images appears systematic rather than random or accidental in nature.
Why? This is where the mystery deepens into something almost unbearable.
Because if the mud flood was a global event and the evidence strongly suggests it was, then its coordination implies something extraordinary.
You cannot bury multiple continents under meters of sediment through random geological processes.
Not simultaneously, not with the precision we observe in the architectural record.
And if the disappearance of the giants was connected to this event, then we’re looking at a coordinated erasia on a scale that beggars belief.
A global effort to remove not just people but the memory of people to scrub them from photographs from records from collective consciousness.
The logistical challenges of such an undertaking would require organization and resources that officially didn’t exist then.
The pattern repeats worldwide.
North America, Europe, Asia, Australia.
Everywhere we find Tartarian architecture, we also find this same strange gap in the human record.
This same period where very tall individuals simply vanish from documentation.
Not through war, not through plague, not through any of the mechanisms by which populations typically decline.
They’re just gone.
And the societies that remain seemed to have collectively agreed to pretend they were never there.
As if they were following instructions they didn’t fully understand, as if a script had been written and everyone had their lines.
The silence was deafening.
The uniformity of that silence across cultures and continents is perhaps even more disturbing.
Let me circle back to what we’ve already established about Tartarian technology.
the atmospheric electricity systems, the harmonic resonance architecture, the water and air purification mechanisms built into the very structure of these massive buildings.
All of this required expertise to operate and maintain.
You don’t build a machine that’s sophisticated and then simply abandon it.
You don’t create systems that complex without leaving detailed operational manuals, training programs, succession plans.
Unless, of course, the knowledge was never meant to be written down.
Unless it was embodied knowledge held by specific individuals who could physically interact with systems designed for their scale and capabilities.
The absence of written technical documentation might not indicate lost records, but rather knowledge never intended for documentation.
Giants standing 8 9 10 ft tall could reach components housed in ceilings that now seem merely decorative.
could manipulate mechanisms built into architectural features that we’ve reinterpreted as purely aesthetic.
Could operate at a scale that made sense of buildings whose proportions now seem excessive, wasteful, illogical.
Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
The buildings weren’t oversized for human use.
They were perfectly sized for their intended operators.
And when those operators disappeared, the buildings became museums of a technology we can no longer access.
Beautiful shells, housing systems we no longer understand, maintained by custodians we no longer remember.
Their disappearance transformed functional technology into inexplicable architecture, purpose into mere aesthetics and historical curiosity.
What haunts me most isn’t the presence of the giants in old photographs.
It’s their absence in current narratives.
The complete and total silence about what should be one of the most significant anthropological questions of our era.
Where did they go? Why did they go? Who decided that their existence should be scrubbed from official history? Not why, not when, not under which authority.
No.
How? How do you coordinate a global eraser of this magnitude? How do you convince or compel or coersse entire societies into forgetting a whole category of human being? How do you maintain that silence across generations, across cultures, across continents? The mechanisms required for such comprehensive erasia suggests coordination at levels that officially have never existed.
The mud flood may provide part of the answer.
A catastrophic event, whether natural or engineered, that literally buried the old world, that forced survivors to dig out, rebuild, reorient.
In the chaos of such a reset, memory becomes malleable.
Official narratives can be written by whoever emerges with power and resources.
And if the giants were specifically targeted for removal, either physically eliminated or relocated somewhere beyond the reach of conventional society, then the mud flood would provide perfect cover.
Blame their disappearance on the catastrophe, fold their absence into the general trauma of the reset, wait a generation or two for direct memory to fade, then simply deny they ever existed at all.
Rewrite the textbooks, suppress the photographs, and wait for time to finish the eraser.
I keep returning to a single thought.
What knowledge died with the giants? We’re told we’re living in an era of unprecedented technological advancement.
That every generation improves upon the last, that progress is linear and inevitable.
But what if we’re actually living in a dark age? What if the technology we’ve lost, the free energy systems, the harmonic architecture, the sophisticated understanding of atmospheric electricity, what if that was actually superior to what we have now? What if we’re mistaking our recovery from catastrophic loss for genuine progress forward into new territory? The buildings suggest as much.
They’re more durable than modern construction, more energyefficient, more in harmony with natural systems, and they were allegedly built with technology far more primitive than what we possess today.
Unless they weren’t, unless the builders had access to knowledge we’ve lost, knowledge that might have been held and transmitted by the very guardians who disappeared after 1800.
The deeper I look, the more it appears we’re not climbing towards some technological pinnacle.
We’re climbing back up from a fall, recovering fragments of a wisdom we once possessed and then somehow lost or were taken from us.
And the giants knew they were the bridge between the old world and the new.
They were the living connection to Tartarian knowledge.
And when they were removed, however that removal was accomplished, the bridge burned behind them.
We may be technological orphans struggling to rediscover what was once common knowledge to a vanished people.
I don’t have answers.
I’m not sure anyone does.
But the questions themselves are worth asking, even if especially if they make us uncomfortable.
Why do the photographs stop? Why does documentation of extremely tall individuals vanish from the record after a specific date? Why does this disappearance coincide so precisely with the mudflow events we’ve documented? Who benefited from their removal? What systems of power were threatened by their existence by the knowledge they protected? And perhaps most disturbing, if such a coordinated global erasure was possible, then what prevents it from happening again? What other truths might have been buried under meters of mud and generations of silence? What categories of human experience might we be living through right now without recognizing as historically significant? The giants are gone.
The buildings remain hollow and repurposed.
And we’re left with fragments, photographs that seem impossible, architectural features that make no sense.
Doorways built for bodies that officially never existed.
The official history tells us we’re seeing things that aren’t there.
that we’re pattern seeking where no patterns exist, that the photographs are misinterpreted, the scale distorted, the evidence unconvincing.
But once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
And the absence, the vast echoing absence where the giant should be, that absence itself is evidence, a negative space in history, a hole shaped exactly like the truth we’re not allowed to remember.
The void they left behind speaks louder than any documentation that survived their removal from our collective memory.
What do you think? Have you noticed these patterns? Share your thoughts in the comments.
But be aware the algorithm doesn’t want this discussed.
The Guardians are gone.
The world they protected has been buried and forgotten.
And we’re left asking the simplest, most essential question.
What else don’t we remember? What else have we been taught to forget?
