Here’s some speculative fiction. Pull up a chair and let me tell you a tale…
A youngling, new to the ways of the force, set out to make his brand more famous. His father, was old stock from a long line of dastardly, but quite wealthy, spirits pirates. His pockets were deep and could handily fund any venture the lad had in mind.
“President. I want to be President!”, young Jack excitedly chirped when asked what such a venture might look like.
Dad pondered for a moment. A slow smirk began to emanate from his left dimple. “That’s a capital idea!”, Joe replied. Ghoulish laughter follows, fade to black.
Jack eventually becomes president and actually gives a shit, or not, hard to tell. Dark days are upon the USA. The Bay of Pigs has everyone on pins and needles. Children have weekly nuclear bomb preparedness drills in school. Hiding beneath their desks, as if that will stop the radiation from melting their skin. Sickening to think that one human could do that to another human. But I digress. The days are dark, Jack wants to show the people there’s hope. Someone comes up with an idea. Let’s put a man on the moon! It would be a fantastic way to “one-up” Moscow. Jack picks up that ball and runs with it.
Jack looked into the eyes of his fellow Americans when he said:
I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to earth.
Many a tear were shed that day my friend. Many a tear.
The next day, while doing Oval Office happy dances (because he’s the shit), one of “them” shows up. Jack’s told by “them” that in fact, the USA can’t put a man on the moon. It’s not possible as it turns out. That’s one of the things “they” learned in the Nazi site rip that was Operation Paperclip.
Now Jack’s in a bind, taken aback like a sleestak. But Jack’s a straight shooter, of good character. He must tell the public. He fell, silently, into his high back, comfy leather chair, and spun. Around and around. “They” waited until Jack stopped spinning. Jack stood up and said “we have to call off the moon program and tell the public!”
“Very well”, “they” said, and arose to leave the confusing elliptical enclosure.
In no less than four weeks, the false flag operation known as the Cuban Missile Crisis is activated. This permanently moves Jack’s attention away from “space” toward Fidel Castro, for nearly one year. And then, he’s shot dead in the street, like a dog, on super 8 film, for all to SEE and FEAR. An example was made of him by “them”.
Without Jack informing the public of the giant fake “space” cover-up, “they” quietly moved the “space” program underground. Literally and figuratively. This could be the genesis of the secret space program, or part of it. However, the space (i.e. area) where their program resides, is actually underground, in “inner space”. Not in “outer space”. That’s the part that is “secret”.