If you stand at the centre of the King’s Men stone circle at Rollright, on the Oxfordshire-Warwickshire border, and walk a slow spiral outward with a gaussmeter, the magnetic field strength rises and falls in concentric bands. The retired engineer Charles Brooker mapped this in 1983 and the pattern has been recorded many times since. Walk the same spiral at a pub car park ten miles away and the field is featureless. The stones are doing something. What they are doing, and why the people who erected them chose that specific spot on that specific fault line some 3,500 years before Brooker arrived with his instrument, is a question that does not have a polite answer.
This is a follow-up piece. The first article, The Sphere Network: Patrick Jackson, Beatriz Villarroel, Skinwalker, and the Infrastructure Hiding in Plain Sight, made the case for a three-tier network of spheres operating across the planet, with small Type 3 spheres functioning as relay nodes in a microwave-based communications layer, Type 2 spheres acting as atmospheric signal boosters, and Type 1 formations in the sky performing three-dimensional targeting through trilateration. Jackson’s framework, corroborated by independent data from Skinwalker Ranch and Dr Beatriz Villarroel’s peer-reviewed astrophysics, proposes that the network is AI-driven, maintained by an ultra-terrestrial intelligence resident beneath the surface, and that humans are integrated into its defensive architecture as a surface-level component. The short version is that something old and structured is operating on and around this planet. The present article asks where it touches the ground, and what the megalithic record tells us about how long it has been doing so.
What the stones are doing
The Dragon Project, founded by Paul Devereux in 1977 at the Rollright Stones, spent more than two decades measuring electromagnetic anomalies at British megalithic sites. The project’s overall verdict was cautious. Most sites, most of the time, produced background readings. But specific stones at specific sites, and specific sites themselves, produced anomalies that did not wash out. Magnetic field spikes at Rollright. Ultrasonic emissions recorded at dawn and around the equinoxes. Ionising radiation readings that ran both higher and lower than local geological background, sometimes dramatically. Francis Hitching and Eduardo Balanovski’s gaussmeter work at the Crickhowell standing stone in Wales in 1975 had found the same thing a decade earlier. Balanovski’s observation, which I think is still the most honest summary of the evidence, was that the people who placed the stones knew about their power even if they did not know about electromagnetism.
The Breton work at Carnac, conducted by the French engineer Pierre Mereux across several decades, goes further. Carnac sits on thirty-one fractures of the most seismically active zone in France. The granite menhirs, more than three thousand of them arranged in precise alignments, are piezoelectric. They generate electrical charges under pressure and vibration. They behave, on Mereux’s readings, as coils or solenoids, with induced currents varying in response to the ambient magnetic field. The voltage around individual stones pulses in cycles of roughly seventy minutes, charging and discharging measurably. The voltage in the Grand Ménec alignment diminishes with distance from the stone circle at the alignment’s end, which itself functions as a capacitor or concentrator. The stones were transported from some sixty miles away to be placed precisely on these active fault lines. The builders were engineering something.
Avebury provides the same picture in English chalk. Electrodes placed in the circular ditch have recorded telluric ground current being broken by the ditch, channelled along it, and released at the entrance to the site sometimes at double the background rate. Magnetic readings at Avebury drop at night to a level that cannot be accounted for by natural variation. Stonehenge, Silbury Hill, the Kennet long barrows, the whole Wessex complex sits on a confluence of chalk aquifer, shallow fault activity, and precisely sited stone. These are not stones dropped where they happened to fall. They are tuned structures on active ground.
The cross-cultural pattern
The British and Breton traditions are part of a much wider pattern. Chinese feng shui has always treated dragon lines, lung mei, as living currents flowing through the landscape. The mountains are the dragon’s spine, the rivers its veins. Specific intersections where yang lines (the Blue Dragon) meet yin lines (the White Tiger) are recognised as power points, and structures are aligned with the flow or positioned at the intersections for specific purposes. Imperial China took this seriously enough that mountain tops were flattened or sharpened to modify dragon-line behaviour, and the Emperor performed annual rituals on Coal Hill outside Peking at one of the country’s major north-south dragon axes.
Aboriginal Australians describe songlines, invisible pathways across the land created by ancestral beings during the Dreamtime. These are both physical routes and energetic currents, and singing the correct song at the correct point is said to activate the land. Native American spirit lines, Andean ceques radiating from Cuzco, the invisible straight tracks across landscapes in every continent with a deep indigenous tradition. The anthropologist’s instinct is to file these as parallel superstitions. That explanation works for as long as you do not look at the instrumented data, at which point it becomes harder to sustain. Multiple unrelated cultures, with no contact and no shared technology, independently identifying the same class of landscape points and attributing active properties to them is not random.
John Michell, in The View Over Atlantis in 1969 (updated 1986 as The New View Over Atlantis), borrowed lung mei to describe Alfred Watkins’s British ley lines and proposed a planetary energy grid that connected sites across the world. The subsequent New Age adoption of the idea weakened it substantially by stripping the geophysical specifics and replacing them with vague spiritual claims, but Michell’s original intuition, that the British and Chinese traditions were describing the same underlying phenomenon, was probably correct. Bruce Cathie’s thirty years of plotting UFO sightings on gridded maps led him to a harmonic mathematical framework in which the planet’s surface is covered by a structured grid with nodes at specific coordinates. Those nodes correlated, in Cathie’s work, with megalithic sites, nuclear facilities, and persistent UFO sighting clusters. The academic establishment never took Cathie seriously, but his raw mapping work was more rigorous than his reputation suggests.
Becker and Hagens in 1983 extended the approach by overlaying icosahedral and dodecahedral geometries onto the globe. The grid vertices landed on Giza, Machu Picchu, Angkor Wat, Easter Island, and a sequence of the planet’s most significant archaeological anomalies. Whether their underlying geometry is correct or is an artefact of selective fit is debatable. That the major megalithic centres sit on identifiable geophysical features is not.
The convergence with Jackson’s framework
This is where the picture gets interesting for the sphere network argument. Jackson’s Type 3 infrastructure requires ground-level nodes for the microwave relay system to work. The nodes must be stable, they must be positioned to support line-of-sight links to the next hop in the network, and they must be located somewhere that does not draw attention. In his framework the current nodes are embedded in buildings, including specifically 30 East Drive in Pontefract, which is voted the most aggressively haunted property in Britain and which sits, if Jackson is right, at a hard point in the network that cannot be moved.
If you were designing a ground-level relay network that exploited existing geophysical infrastructure, you would want nodes at points of concentrated telluric activity, on fault lines where the planet’s own electromagnetic signatures would mask your transmissions, ideally with resonant or piezoelectric material on site to amplify the effect. You would, in other words, want nodes at exactly the places where Neolithic and Bronze Age populations independently built stone circles and erected menhirs. The megalithic distribution is a map of the Earth’s geophysical pressure points, drawn in granite and chalk by people who had no instrumentation but who had spent enough generations in close attention to the land to recognise where the power was.
The question then is whether the megalithic sites are ancient network nodes, whether they mark natural nodes the network routes through, or whether the network uses them incidentally as infrastructure. I do not think the evidence is strong enough to distinguish between these options, and Jackson himself does not make the claim. But the geography is extremely suggestive. The densest concentration of crop formations on Earth is the Wessex landscape, which is also the densest concentration of megalithic material in England. Hampshire, where the Crabwood and Chilbolton formations appeared within a few miles of each other, is the transition zone between the Wessex megalithic complex and the chalk downland that runs east. Skinwalker Ranch sits in the Uintah Basin, which has extreme geological and magnetic anomalies and which the Ute people have recognised as dangerous ground for centuries. The correlation, across continents and across cultures, is not subtle.
Earth lights, or sphere network?
One caveat worth being honest about. Paul Devereux’s later work, particularly Earth Lights in 1982 and Earth Lights Revelation in 1989, argues that most anomalous light phenomena at megalithic sites are natural plasma effects produced by piezoelectric stress in active fault zones. Michael Persinger’s research at Laurentian University reinforced this with laboratory work showing that intense magnetic fields can generate both visible plasma and altered mental states in observers. On this reading, the orbs reported at Avebury and Rollright and Carnac are geophysical, not technological. They are the Earth’s own discharge phenomena, not spheres in Jackson’s sense.
Devereux and Jackson cannot both be fully right. But both could be partly right. The sphere network, if it exists, would not need to generate its own telluric currents when the Earth is already producing them in concentrated form at specific locations. It would be efficient engineering to route through pre-existing geophysical activity rather than generating equivalents from scratch. On that reading, the earth-lights phenomenon is real, and is a natural consequence of the same fault-line activity the network exploits. Distinguishing a natural plasma event from a Type 3 sphere at the same site, under the same conditions, at the instrumentation level available to Devereux in the 1980s, would have been close to impossible. It may not be much easier now.
The honest position is that the megalithic record documents a global network of geophysically active points identified and enhanced by pre-industrial populations across every continent, that Jackson’s framework requires exactly such a network to function at ground level, and that whatever relationship exists between the two is a question that instrumentation at Skinwalker-grade density could probably resolve if anyone cared to ask it. Nobody has, yet.
What this suggests
The ground beneath our feet has been doing something for at least five thousand years, and the people who raised the stones knew where to put them. Whatever is happening in the sky above the Wiltshire downs and the Breton coast and the Uintah Basin is resting on geophysical infrastructure that predates writing. The network is not new. The question is whether the sphere network Jackson describes is the current operator of that infrastructure, whether it is one user among several, or whether we are looking at two related but distinct systems that happen to share the same map.
If you want to sit on active ground, you are probably not far from it. In Britain you are certainly not. The stones have been sitting there for longer than any of us can imagine, and they have been doing their work whether or not anyone was paying attention. Paying attention may be the part that matters.
The original article, The Sphere Network: Patrick Jackson, Beatriz Villarroel, Skinwalker, and the Infrastructure Hiding in Plain Sight, sets out the framework this piece extends. Paul Devereux’s Places of Power (1990, revised 1999) remains the best published account of the Dragon Project’s measured findings. Pierre Mereux’s work at Carnac is collected in Carnac: A Place of Mystery (2001). John Michell’s The View Over Atlantis (1969) is the founding text of the modern earth-mysteries movement and remains worth reading despite the New Age dilution of its ideas in the decades since.