THE PHENOMENON OF THE UNMARKED SHIPPING CONTAINERS
A number of you spotted this story during the Christmas-New Year's holdays, and sent it to me, and I have to admit, I'm quite intrigued by the story, so thank you to all of you who did so.
The story itself is simple enough, but fraught with all sorts of "high octane implications", a few of which I want to explore today. The "simple story" itself concerns the fact that many shipping containers that pile up at American ports (and therefore, presumably, at ports in other nations), simply have no container or manifest numbers, or if they di, they are quickly erased. Here's the story:
Notice, however, that according to the article, these containers and the attempts to investigate them fall into a pattern:
Ports run like clockwork. Every container has a code. Every shipment has paperwork. Every move is logged. The entire system is designed to keep track of goods moving through.
But for months, workers have been spotting containers that somehow slip through the cracks. These containers don’t follow standard patterns. They weigh more than they should. Their paperwork marks them as empty, yet their movement suggests otherwise.
What’s more, equipment around these containers often fails without explanation—scales, temperature sensors, GPS systems, and even phones mysteriously stop working. And then there’s the security. Teams that no one recognizes show up, handle the containers, and vanish. No uniforms. No markings. Just quick, efficient work like they’ve done this a hundred times before.
All of this began, according to the article, with a port worker at Long Beach noticing an odd container with an odd number:
Two months ago, a veteran customs inspector at Long Beach saw something so odd, he couldn’t let it go. A container with the number KZU 7793554 had a format different from any he’d seen in 15 years. Standard containers have four letters and seven numbers. This one had eight numbers.
The paperwork said it was empty, but the scale told a different story—27,000 pounds instead of the 5,000 pounds typical of empty containers. When he tried to flag it in the system, his entire computer crashed. By the time systems rebooted, the container was gone—moved in minutes by a crew and equipment no one recognized.
The next day, it was as if the container never existed. Its spot on the shipping manifest had been replaced. Security footage of those 20 minutes? Blank.
The inspector started watching, and he saw more of these containers. Same odd number formats. Always heavier than they should be. Always “empty.” Always moved by unfamiliar crews.
One night, he got close enough to hear something coming from inside. It wasn’t machinery. It wasn’t cargo shifting. It was… something else.
With that, we come to a first high octane speculation, because in this instance the "shifting contents" of the mysterious container suggests some thing, or some things, that is or are alive: wild animals, perhaps even some unknown species, or perhaps a laboratory "creation", or perhaps even smuggled human or animal cargoes. Indeed, toward the end of the article, an incident is alleged that included a strange living creature:
Most refrigerated containers don’t go below -20°C. This one read -80°C—impossible. Its equipment wasn’t standard, and it drew massive amounts of power for unknown purposes.
A reinforced viewing panel caught his attention, and despite his better judgment, he looked inside. Behind the frosted glass, a massive shape moved, deliberate and fluid. It seemed to shift as though it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be solid or liquid.
When its eyes turned toward him, they didn’t just reflect his light—they absorbed it. Then the sound came: a deep, bone-rattling thrum that felt alive. The worker backed away, only to find himself confronted by men in Hazmat gear. They questioned him for hours, forced him to sign non-disclosure agreements, and transferred him to a different job the next day.
Yet another incident involved yet another strange creature:
Sometimes, damaged containers need inspection. One night, a night shift worker approached a cracked container. What he found inside still haunts him.
Through the crack, he saw movement. At first, he thought it was shadows. Then, he realized: it was massive, at least seven feet tall. Its skin looked alive, neither fur nor scales, shifting like liquid adapting to the darkness. Its eyes? Too large and too aware, reflecting light like an animal’s but with an intelligence he could feel.
Then came the smell. Like ozone and wet dirt but with an unnatural sting. His flashlight flickered off. His phone died. And the sound—it was a low vibration, almost like a growl, at a pitch that rattled his teeth.
Within minutes, men in unmarked uniforms arrived. They labeled it a chemical leak, cleared the area, and moved the container using specialized equipment. The next day? No record of damage. No sign anything had happened at all.
The article continues with more repetitions of the pattern of a mysterious container, failing equipment, and mysterious :"dock crews" showing up:
A crane operator with 20 years of experience shared his own unsettling encounter. He could lift almost any container blindfolded—it was part of the job to “sense” how containers move. But three months ago, he came across one that didn’t feel right.
The container, KZU 77951 Z2, was marked empty. But when he lifted it, his instruments failed. The weight sensor went dead. His radio stopped working. Even the container itself swayed unnaturally, like something inside was moving deliberately.
And the strangest part? The panels on the side of the container. They weren’t standard cooling panels but something far more advanced. When he got close, he heard a humming sound that made his teeth hurt. His attempts to document the oddities failed—his phone shut off, and the photos he’d previously taken turned to blank screens.
Thus the pattern is always the same:
The evidence is overwhelming. Mysterious containers marked as empty but far too heavy. Equipment malfunctions that seem intentional. Security teams who appear, handle the situation, and leave without a trace.
Needless to say, I find the story fascinating, because it itself implies that something - an exotic life form or life forms of some sort - is being moved by such a system. But moved from where, to where, and by whom, and for what purpose? We don't know. But the story is an indicator that some sort of global system is in place for moving - and monitoring - clandestine shipments, which could be used for anything: smuggling human cargo for whatever nefarious purpose, from sex rings, to slavery, organ harvesting, you name it; to smuggling other kinds of cargo, from technologies to artifacts. The possibilities are virtually limitless, and may even include the covert smuggling of nuclear weapons or dirty bombs.
Oddly enough, the article contains a few clues in the container numbers it alleges to be involved, and that detail is suspicious enough. Whence did the numbers come to its author? By what route? why were these very specific details included in an article otherwise of a more general nature?
It is as if someone is trying to say: "Look here."
So... I looked...
Or rather, glanced, because I obviously did not and do not have time to investigate the claims more fully, nor do I have the financial resources to do so. But my glance did turn up something rather interesting, if not completely unexpected. The container numbers mentioned in the article began with the letters "KZU". I did q quick internet search, and discovered that these letters were the letters assigned to a Turkish air cargo company based in Istanbul called "Kuzu Cargo Airlines":
https://airlinehistory.co.uk/airline/kuzu-cargo-airlines/
As that website notes:
ULS Airlines Cargo was established and started operations in Jun2004 as Baron Air Cargo. Renamed to Kuzu Cargo Airlines in Oct2004 and was rebranded to current name on 03/Jul/2009 after it has been taken over by ULS Group, a New York based shipping and logistics company
with Kuzu Cargo Arilines being an
international cargo airline headquartered in Istanbul with its main base is Istanbul Atatürk Airport.
My attempts to follow these clues on the internet led to more or less of a complete dead end. Searching for "Baron Air Cargo" led to "Baron Aviation" a small air cargo company based in Missouri, and not New York, as claimed by the website. And ULS is simply the rebranded Kuzu Cargo Airlines with its own website: https://airlinehistory.co.uk/airline/kuzu-cargo-airlines/
In any case, we are looking are cargo air services, and not at oceanic shipping, unless the article is trying to suggest some weird connection between the two, and with Turkey.
The basic core of my high octane speculations, however, remains: there is something going on at the world's ports: some thing or some things are being smuggled, and smuggling operations of that scale require an infrastructure and monitoring, and the probable connivance of port (and airport) authorities and the complicity of cargo and shipping companies.
In short, we're perhaps at the very beginnings of a mystery and a story here that would seem to bear some watching...
... See you on the flip side...
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