The video effectively highlights the tension between neurobiological reductionism and the profound, purposeful nature of subjective survival experiences. It serves as a humbling reminder that while science can map the brain's mechanics, it has yet to fully decode the resilient spirit of human consciousness.
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What Science Found at the Edge of Death | The Third ManAdded:
This episode of the Y files is brought to you by the wellness company.
Frank Smite had to stop. He was 28,000 ft up Everest and fading. He knew if he closed his eyes, he wouldn't open them again.
Lots of climbers took their last breath right here. Some were still frozen in the ice. But his partner wasn't worried.
They just needed a break and a bit of food. Frank broke a mint cake in half and held a piece out. But nobody was there. But Frank knew he wasn't alone.
He experienced something thousands of people in danger experience. An unseen presence, calm and familiar, always there when you're about to die.
Scientists call him the third man. They even built a machine that can summon him. But what the machine creates and what survivors describe, they are two very different things.
You see, that means your baby is still alive.
>> Yeah, a human. I'm dying.
>> You're not dying?
>> I went to urgent care yesterday with a scratchy throat. I sat in a waiting room for 5 hours and now I got something worse.
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>> When a guy next to me was coughing into the magazine basket and not near a human, into it. Direct deposit. And I watched a woman sneeze on a vending machine and then pressed the buttons.
>> That's Yeah, that's pretty gross.
>> Oh, the worst part is she got mountain, too.
>> Wow.
>> And then a kid wiped his nose on dirty >> on her hump. She didn't even flinch. She just stood there and accepted it like some kind of biological collection site.
And the beaver brothers, they lick the water fountain.
>> Well, why? But they dead each other, which means they did themselves, human, and there was no external pressure. It was a closed loop system of bad decisions.
>> So, did you even get treated?
>> Treated? Yeah. I saw a doctor for like 90 seconds. He looked at my throat with a popsicle stick, said, "Look, shred charged me $400, and told me to rest and stay hydrated."
>> That's it.
>> That's it. $400 for advice my grand gave me for free. And her cure for everything was egg salad and the rosary.
>> So you went in with a sore throat and came out.
>> You came out with the plague. The waiting room is the disease. Human. I've quarantined your living room. Operation Willy Wonka. Nobody gets in. Nobody comes out.
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>> Thank you. Now he just flagged Gertie at 165 degrees. That's medium well human.
>> I know, baby. I know. I don't think it's funny either.
Ernest Shackleton ship got crushed by Antarctic pack ice in November 1915. 27 men, three lifeboats, no ship.
They camped on the ice for 5 months, dragging the lifeboats behind them. When the ice broke apart, they launched the boats and sailed 200 m to the nearest land. But it was nothing more than a barren rock in the middle of nowhere.
There was no hope of rescue. Nobody knew where they were. So Shackleton piled into a lifeboat with five men. They endured hurricane winds and 20 foot waves for 800 miles. But finally, they reached South Georgia Island. That was the good news. The bad news, they landed on the wrong side. The whailing station that could save them was on the north coast. They were on the south. And between them was a mountain range nobody crossed. Nobody even dared to try. But Shackleton was out of options. He picked two men for the final push. Tom Green and Frank Worley. They carried 50 ft of rope, a small axe, and three days of food. No tent, no sleeping bags, no good options. If they stay, they die.
>> I saw MacGyver get off an island once.
All he had was a koo, a dental dam, and an extra rigid churro.
>> A rigid churro.
>> Well, it wouldn't work with a flashy churro.
>> Okay, >> but it's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to everybody's churro once in a while.
>> For 36 straight hours, they climbed.
They navigated by the stars when they were lucky enough to have clear sky.
Mostly, they just climbed in the dark.
At one point they got pinned. Going back meant freezing to death. Waiting meant freezing to death. So Shackleton coiled the rope beneath the three men like a sled, closed his eyes, and they pushed off.
They slid 2,000 ft, screaming the whole way. Then they hit a snowbank and somehow nobody died. They finally stumbled into the whailing station, filthy and frostbitten, but alive. Three men just pulled off one of the greatest survival feats in history. And each of them was hiding a secret from the others. Only later did they learn they all had the same secret. Weeks later, Shackleton admitted it first.
>> It seemed to me often that we were four, not three. I said nothing of it to Crane or Worsley. I could not bring myself to look behind me. I feared what I might see or worse what I might not.
>> Worstly said the same thing, a presence just outside his field of vision keeping pace. They never saw the figure, never heard it speak, but all three were sure someone walked with them across that mountain range. TS Elliott wrote about it in his famous poem, The Wasteland.
>> Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together. I do not know whether a man or a woman. But who is that on the other side of you?
>> That line gave the phenomenon its name, the third man. And 11 years later, Charles Lindberg tried to cross the Atlantic alone. But he wasn't alone for long.
On May 20th, 1927, Charles Lindberg climbed into a single engine plane at Roosevelt Field on Long Island. He was going to fly non-stop to Paris. 33 hours over the open ocean alone. Plenty of pilots had tried. None made it.
>> No, you're talking about Sister Betray.
>> What?
>> You said a nun made it. Sister Betray is the only flying nun I know.
>> No. No. None as in no one. How dare you?
Sally Field is not no one. I like her. I really like her.
>> The problem started before he left the ground. By the time he hit the Atlantic, he was on his second straight day without sleep. 22 hours into the flight, he felt himself slipping. As a last resort, he pointed the plane straight down and doped. And just before hitting the water, he pulled up and flew so low that waves splashed into the cockpit.
Even the icy water wasn't enough.
Lindberg was going to crash and he knew it. Then just before he surrendered, the cockpit filled with people. Not one presence, many. Lindberg called them phantoms. They sounded calm, friendly, even familiar. They pointed out a navigation problem. They helped him change course. And even though there was nothing behind his seat but fuel tanks and not enough room to stretch his legs, he could feel them, all of them, all around him, keeping him company, keeping him awake. keeping him alive.
>> These phantoms speak with human voices, friendly vapor-like shapes, without substance, able to appear and disappear at will.
I am flying in a region beyond the range of human experience, where time and space seem to have altered.
The phantoms stayed for hours. They were comforting. They said he was going to be all right. Then just over the horizon, he saw white waves crashing against the green coast of Ireland. Land. Lindberg felt a rush of adrenaline or relief. It didn't matter. Fuel levels were good, instruments were working, and the landing strip was in sight. He was going to make it. That's when Lindberg realized something. The voices were gone. One minute the cockpit was full of people, then nothing. Lindberg was alone.
And after 33 hours in the air and almost 60 hours without sleep, Charles Lindberg landed safely. He crossed the Atlantic.
He made history. He became one of the most famous, admired men in the world.
He published books. He gave hundreds of interviews. And through it all, he never mentioned the voices. Not once. But 26 years later, Charles Lindberg took another risk. This time, he risked his reputation. In 1953, he wrote The Spirit of St. Louis. And this wasn't a story of bravery and triumph. Lindberg wrote about his early struggles and regrets.
And he wrote about that flight in 1927 when Invisible Voices saved his life. He was worried he'd be mocked for mentioning the third man. Instead, he won the Puliter Prize. 43 years later, on the tallest mountain wall in the world, the third man appeared again. But this time, he couldn't save everyone.
On June 29th, 1970, Ronald Messner and his brother Gunther reached the summit of Nanga Parbat in Pakistan, nicknamed the killer mountain for its long deadly history. They should have been celebrating. They just became the first people to climb the tallest mountain wall on Earth. 1500 ft of vertical rock and ice.
>> Night gathers and now my watch begins.
It shall not end until my death.
>> Here he goes. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.
>> You done?
>> Oh, I was going to the world punishment.
Take no wife, father no children. I'd do that right now if I could. Oh, you didn't get your alimony check. I don't blame me. Blame the raven.
Climbing to the top was easy. But now Gunther was in trouble. He felt dizzy.
His vision blurred. Fluid was leaking into his lungs. And he knew what this was. Altitude sickness. He didn't know how bad, but he knew he couldn't make the climb back down. So, Reinhold made a call. They descend a different side of the mountain. It was a shorter climb, but that's about all they knew about the terrain. They weren't prepared to take a different way down, but this was Gunther's best chance to live. They started down slowly, but still, Gunther couldn't keep up. Every time Reinhold turned to check on him, he was farther and farther behind. They were 1,000 ft in the air. Reinhold started to panic.
That's when he noticed the third climber. Not ahead or behind, just to his right, a few steps back, just outside his line of sight. Rinhold never saw the figure directly, but it kept pace, steady and calm for hours.
>> Suddenly, there was a third climber with us, descending on my right side. I could sense his presence.
>> But the third man couldn't save everyone. Near the bottom of the mountain, an avalanche hit.
Reinhold barely survived and Gunther didn't. His remains weren't found for almost 50 years.
In 1985, two British climbers, Joe Simpson and Simon Yates, were coming down the west face of Sula Grande when Joe slipped and shattered his leg. This was a bad one. Bone was poking through the skin, and they were 20,000 ft up so there'd be no rescue. So, they worked out a system. They had a 300 ft rope, one end tied around each man. Simon would lower Joe down slowly, let him get in place with his good leg, and then follow down. And they did this for hours, 3,000 agonizing feet. Then a storm hit and they lost sight of each other. Simon called out, but the wind was too loud. Suddenly, Simon felt the rope snap against his ribs as it went taut. A gust knocked Joe off the mountain, so his full weight was pulling on Simon. Simon dug in as best he could, but his hands were frostbitten, and he was down to one anchor. If Joe didn't grab hold soon, they'd both fall. Simon held that rope for a full hour while the storm got worse. Then he heard a dull scrape. His last anchor was starting to give.
He still couldn't see Joe. He screamed.
He begged. Nothing. Another gust of wind roared through and the anchor slipped again. If Simon waited any longer, they'd both die. He had only one terrible option. He cut the rope.
Joe fell 100 ft into the dark. Simon assumed he was dead. He should have been, but he wasn't.
Joe landed on a snowbank inside the creass, alive, alone in the dark with a shattered leg. Above him, a 100ft drop he couldn't climb. Below him, a bottomless pit. No food, no radio, no way out. Then he heard a voice. Not his own thoughts. Another voice, clear and calm. It told him to stop looking for a way up. The way out was down. Joe couldn't see what was down there, but he went anyway. And for 3 days, the voice kept talking. Which direction to crawl, when to rest, when to keep moving. There was this voice talking to me, and it was quite clear. You've got to do this.
You've got to do that. And I do it.
>> Joe dragged a shattered leg over boulder fields and three glaciers. He dragged himself all the way back to camp just as Simon was packing up. Simon looked like he saw a ghost. Joe said he might have been saved by one. He wrote about it in touching the void. He didn't believe in ghosts or God or guardian angels or any of it, but he believed that voice was real, and he knew it saved his life. Two cases, two mountains. One presence watched a man die and couldn't stop it.
Another pulled a man out of a hole in the ice. Whatever the third man is, he doesn't work the same way twice. Cuz 12 years later, a cave diver lost her lifeline in 100 ft underwater. She had 20 minutes of air left. And the stranger who came for her wasn't invisible. She knew him.
In 1997, Rob Palmer was one of the world's leading experts on blue hole diving. He'd spent years mapping underwater cave systems other divers wouldn't touch.
That summer, he went on a dive in the Red Sea, and he never came back. A few weeks after Rob died, his widow got back in the water. Stephanie Schwab was a geologist. She studied the underwater caves of the Bahamas, same territory her husband worked. She'd been in those caves dozens of times. She suited up alone and descended into a cave called Mermaid's Lair.
>> Yeah, Mermaid's Lair. That's the club on Flamingo, right? With the 24-hour buffet.
>> No, it's a cave.
>> No, you're telling me it's the kind of place where every night is open pole night.
>> An underwater cave.
>> Well, on Tuesdays.
>> Okay, that's enough.
Cave diving works like this. You clip yourself to a guideline when you enter.
The line is how you find your way out.
The cave is pitch black. Visibility is measured in inches. If you lose the guideline, the cave kills you. Stephanie lost the guideline. She had a limited amount of air in her tanks. She reached into the dark and felt nothing. Her breathing picked up. And breathing hard at depth burns through air fast. Then she heard a voice.
>> Stephanie, stop.
Wait.
Calm down. You're going to be okay. She knew the voice. It was Rob. She stopped and felt him right next to her, helping her.
>> Breathe, honey.
Just breathe.
Trust me, okay.
>> Stephanie slowed her breathing. She felt her panic dissipating.
>> "Good.
Okay, I need you to reach about 3 ft above your head, slightly to your left.
Don't rush. Just feel around." She reached up and felt the guideline. It had been directly above her the whole time.
>> Good.
I knew you could do it. Stay calm. You have plenty of air. You've done this a 100 times. Follow the line. Don't rush.
You're going to be okay.
>> Stephanie followed the line back through the cave and up to open water. The moment she broke the surface, the presence was gone. She never saw her husband, but she heard him and he saved her and Benny was gone. But the most dramatic account didn't come from a mountain or an ocean or a cave. It came from inside a burning skyscraper on a Tuesday morning in September.
September 11th, 2001, 9:03 a.m. The second plane hit the South Tower between the 77th and 85th floors.
Ron D. Francisco worked for Eurob Brokers on the 84th floor. When the plane hit, he was below the impact zone by just a few floors. The people above him were dead, or were going to be. He started down stairway A. He made it a few floors down and ran into two people coming up. They told him the stairway below was gone, consumed by fire. The smoke made the air unbreathable. The group turned around and headed for the roof, hoping for a helicopter. Ron followed them up a few floors, but then he stopped.
The roof was the wrong choice. He didn't know why. He turned around and went back down into the smoke alone.
The smoke was thick enough to blind him.
A collapsed section of wall blocked the stairs. He tried to climb over it. He couldn't breathe. His lungs were burning. So, he stopped. He sat down and decided this was where he was going to die.
He thought about his wife. Thought about his kids. And then he heard a voice.
>> Get up, Ron.
Get up. You can do this.
>> Ron felt a physical presence next to him, but nobody was there.
>> I was led to the stairs.
I don't think something grabbed my hand, but I was definitely led.
>> The presence guided him down through smoke and fire. At one point, it led him directly into the flames. Nobody's saying runs toward fire, but Ron did.
His hands burned, his face burned, but he made it past the impact zone. Then the voice disappeared. Ron kept going.
He made it to the lobby. He ran out of the building. He was barely two blocks away when the South Tower collapsed.
Ron De Francisco was the last person to escape the South Tower alive. More than 600 other people in that building died that day. Everyone above the 78th floor, everyone who headed for the roof. Ron says he wouldn't have made it without the presence he never saw, but felt.
Journalist John Guyger spent 5 years collecting accounts like these.
Climbers, sailors, soldiers. He found hundreds of cases and published them in a book called The Third Man Factor.
Shackleton in the ice, Lindberg over the ocean, Stephanie underwater, and Ron in a burning stairwell. A 100red years of stories that nobody could explain. Then in 2006, neuroscientists in Switzerland found a way to summon the third man. All you have to do is let him open your skull and stay awake while he does it.
You're 22 years old with epilepsy.
You're lying on an operating table. Your skull is open. You're awake because the doctors need you to tell them what you feel when they touch your brain.
This is so they know where to cut. Off by an inch here or a centimeter there, you could lose your ability to speak.
You could go into a coma. You could die.
They send a small electrical current into a region behind your ear and then a shadow appears behind you. You can't see it, but you know it's there. You can feel it. When you sit up, it sits up.
When you lie down, it lies down behind you and wraps its arms around you. Then the doctors turn off the electricity and the shadow goes away. You don't feel the presence anymore. Current on, presence, current off, nothing. every single time they summoned the third man. The neuroscientist running that surgery was Olaf Blancc. And until that moment in 2006, nobody knew where the third man came from. Blancc's team stimulated the part of the brain that tracks where your body is in space. The left temporal parietal junction.
>> Yeah. Tuna fried potato funion.
>> Temporal parietal junction.
>> What I say. It takes signals from your muscles, your inner ear, your eyes, your skin, and it builds one picture of where you are and what you're doing. When that system breaks, from exhaustion, oxygen deprivation, extreme cold, or an electrode, the brain builds that picture of you twice, and you're aware of both, but it feels like the second presence belongs to someone else. In 2014, Blancc took it further. His team built a robot to mimic human movement. blindfolded volunteers stood in front of one robot and behind another like waiting in line.
The subject then taps the robot in front of them on the shoulder. The robot behind copies this in real time and taps the subject on the shoulder. Fine. But when the robot's reactions were delayed just by half a second, volunteers felt something. A presence behind them. Not the robot. A presence sensient and aware. Some got so disturbed they asked to stop. Two subjects felt even more than one presence in the room. All from half a second delay. Blanc's team built a machine that could create the third man on demand. The third man experiment proved that when the brain's prediction of sensation is interrupted, it attributes those sensations to an external agent. In other words, the third man. But there's a big problem with this theory. That's not how the third man works at all.
In 2014, researchers designed a robotic presence experiment to mimic the sensed presence in control conditions. And it worked. A presence appeared. But it was nothing like the third man. Subjects described a shadow entity that made them uncomfortable, even frightened. That's not how the third man works. He doesn't create fear. He takes it away. Every survivor describes a calming presence, supportive and encouraging. The mechanism matched. The experience didn't. So, is the third man real? Well, let's break it down. The skeptical explanation is clean. Under extreme stress, the brain misfires. It hallucinates a second person built from its own signals. Blanc proved it by stimulating the temporal parietal junction.
>> Complimentary pirate lunchon.
>> Temporal par. Never mind. Electrode on, ghost appears. Electrode off, gone. His team reproduced the effect in healthy people in minutes. The third man is the brain talking to itself and not recognizing its own voice. And that explanation fits every survivor.
Shackleton had been awake 36 hours in sub-zero cold. Lindbury hadn't slept in over 2 days. Joe Simpson was hypothermic with a shattered leg. And Ron D.
Francisco was breathing smoke and carbon monoxide. But the glitch theory can't explain the most important part. The third man is helpful. Hallucinations from oxygen deprivation are chaotic.
Melting walls, hostile figures, panic.
The third man is the opposite. He's calm. He gives directions. He knows the way out and he's consistent. In 1943, the British neurologist Macdonald Critsley interviewed almost 300 shipwreck survivors. This was 60 years before Blanc picked up an electrode.
Critley found the same pattern. Calm presence, specific guidance, disappears when the danger ends. Christians and atheists, 1916 and 2001, mountain climbers and office workers, all them describe the same thing. And there's one more theory worth mentioning. In 1976, psychologist Julian James argued that ancient humans didn't have the kind of internal experience that we have today.
They heard voices, commands from the right hemisphere of the brain and interpreted them as gods. James called it the bicameal mind. The theory says that under extreme stress, the brain reverts to that older operating system.
The command voice comes back. Sounds like science fiction, but it fits these theories better than a misfiring brain does. But here's the question nobody can answer. If the brain makes the third man, why does it make him a savior?
Evolution doesn't usually build backup systems that switch on at the moment of death, unless they work.
Systems that are calm, specific, directional systems that know which way to crawl, which way to walk, which way to swim in the pitch black. If the third man is a malfunction, he's the most useful malfunction in the history of biology.
If the brain is doing this on purpose, then we're looking at something in human consciousness that science hasn't mapped yet. Something that knows you need help.
And something that shows up on time, something that leaves when you're safe.
The survivors know what they felt. The scientists know what they can prove. And somewhere in the gap between those two things, on a mountain, in a cockpit, inside a cave, in a burning stairwell, the third man was there. And I don't need science to explain the third man. I don't care who he is. I'm just glad he's there, waiting and watching, ready to step in when you need him most.
Thank you so much for hanging out today.
I'm AJ. That's cycle fish.
>> You like me. You really like me. This has been the W files. Jet Fun or Learn to something. I'd appreciate it if you hit some of those buttons down there.
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Catch us on Discord, send an email, live chat. You can reach us a bunch of ways.
Hey, remember the Welss is also a podcast. You can take us on the road.
Twice a week. I post deep dives into the stories I cover right here on the channel. Plus, I simoc cast all the episodes on the podcast. And I also post episodes that wouldn't be allowed here.
It's called the Y Files Operation Podcast and it's available everywhere.
And if you are listening on an audio platform right now, pay attention to the road. But also, hit those buttons, follow, like, all that stuff. That really helps. I appreciate it. Now, if you need more W files in your life, seek therapy. No, I'm kidding. Check out our Discord. There's over 100,000 fans on there. So, there's someone on there 24/7 talking about the same weird stuff we do here. It's a lot of fun. It's a great community. It's really supportive, and it's free to join. And speaking of 24/7, check out our 24/7 stream on the Wi-Fi files backstage linked down below. Over there, we run episodes back to back with some fun weird content in between. And the live chat is amazing. There's people over there right now. If you enjoy the stories I tell in the W files, check out my other show on the channel called The Basement. It's a conversation show where I chat with the interesting people behind the episodes. Some of them you know, some you don't. But they're all fascinating experts on fun topics like Knights Templar, the moon landing, JFK conspiracy, CERN scientists, researchers, Hitler chasers, all kinds of random stuff. And if there's someone you want to see on the show, let me know. I'm always on the hunt for good guests.
Special thanks to our patrons made this channel possible. Every episode of the Live Files is dedicated to our Patreon members. I couldn't do any of this without your support. And if you'd like to support the channel, keep us going, and join our community of weird amazing people, become a member on Patreon. For as little as three bucks a month, you get access to perks like seeing videos early with no commercials, exclusive merch, plus two private live streams every week just for you. And the whole Wii Files team is on the stream, and you can turn your camera on. You hop up on stage, ask a question, talk about anything you like. I think it's the best perk there is. Another great way to support the channel is grab something from the Wi-Fi store. Hey, the heck of my t-shirt. Oh, one of these fable coffee bugs. You can stick your fist in.
Or if you have a third man around, you can stick his fist in there. I don't care how many men's fist got going in there. I'm not going to report you to HR or nothing. Oh, great. Set my face on it. Oh, ladies, one of these adorable squeezy. I can't even take it. Adorable squeezy hanging tug fish toys. But if you're going to buy merch, make sure you become a member on YouTube. Hear me out.
YouTube members get 10% off everything in the WM store and it's three bucks a month. So, if you're going to spend $40 on t-shirts or fistable coffee mugs, it pays for itself. And look, if you want to grab the coupon code and cancel, that's fine. That code is there to save you money, not make me money. In fact, all that revenue goes to the team. I don't touch it.
>> Yeah, let's keep that secret under your gills. Zach, >> those are the plugs. And that's going to do it. Until next time, be safe, be kind, and know that you are appreciated.
Oh yeah, I play Bibia in Area 51. A secret code inside the Bible said I would.
I love my UFOs and paranormal fun as well as music. So singing it like I should.
But then another conspiracy theory becomes the truth, my friends.
And it never ends.
No, it never ends.
I feel the crap. I got stuck inside M's home with MKL truck. of being only too aware.
Did Stanley Cubrick fake the moon landing alone on a film set? I would shadow people there.
The Roswell just thought the smiling man. I'm told and his name was cold and I can't agree. I'm dancing with the fish and your fish on Thursday night and all through the night.
All I ever wanted was to hear the truth.
The world through the night man sightings and the solar storm still come to go the secret city underground.
around mysterious number stations, planet circle to project star gave where the dark watchers found in a simulation. Don't you worry though.
The black night had a light to me. So I can't believe I'm dancing with the fish on Thursday nights when they change and all through the night.
All I ever wanted was to hear the truth.
So one through the night.
fishing. That's when they change you and all through the night.
All I ever wanted was to be the truth.
So all through the night loves to dance.
Your girl loves to dance on the dance floor because she is a camel.
Love to dance. And the feeling is right on wasting time.
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