Friday, March 14, 2014
Forgive them, for...
(begun Thursday 13th March at 3.45am.)
*I do like to believe that a great many quantum Warriors haven't a clue.. That they've been told that targeting animals and humans is merely an entertainment designed to while away the boring hours of monitoring, and that these laser hits are Virtual and cause no lasting damage. By the time they come to realise that repeated hits to a target can fry off retinas and cook away cartilage, they've become hard-boiled and insensitive to these inhumane acts, and couldn't care less*
At 2.25am Cola had thudded off the bed and onto the floor. I'd sat up and gone after him to the lounge to see if he needed to go out. He didn't. Back to bed to lie and marvel at the complete absence of the Spinal Pinch and to fantasize that someone out there had called him off of me.. The foolishness of the eternal idiot..
In the twenty minutes that followed, one of my Peeping Toms had given me a dose of the Fiddler's frequency, but alas, I was way more disturbed than aroused, especially as by then the BackFire frequency had arrived as well, and the deep ache to my back had become unpleasant... As hyper-sensitive as I've become, I feel every poke and jab of their lasers, and it ain't pretty.
At 3.25am I'd been hit in the shin, my hand had died, and my big toe had suddenly acquired pins and needles, before just minutes later, the heatwave struck, and a nasty cramp to my other calf and the ache to the spine had increased to unbearable, causing me to leave my bed.
I truly can't begin to fathom how their minds work. The pinch that had me wanting to scream as I sat up on the edge of the bed lately, has vanished, but the dull grinding ache from hip to hip is very real, and the Backfire is already at unacceptable levels.
Does It flounce, and insist that he and his proxies are simply doing their job, and that my extreme reactions are nothing personal, but unavoidable? And as you've no desire to offend the Project Author's prized Pet, you'll let it go? Once again, the missing ingredient here is Shame. Shame that you've happily let it get this far, and still show no signs of reining him in..
Let's talk about my little domestic worker, shall we? As far as I know she has a prepaid electricity meter up in her humble home at Clermont township. Is that more than enough for a nearby Monitor to target her?
For the past three or four weeks she's arrived here with flu-like symptoms, and says that her eyes are getting worse.. She'd taken herself to see an eye doctor at a City Clinic and was told to go back for a return visit, and neither of us have a clue what the problem could be. You remember her? Brave little Penny, who'd shovelled Agent Balliram's two precious girls over our wall to safety, just minutes after that fake hostage drama set up by Glen Nayager at No. 6?
How the then crooked Station Head had tried to pin the blame on that good woman and claim that it had been an inside job? How he'd had a couple of Officers load her up in the van and take them to her little home to have it searched? Did I not claim back then that once he had her address, she was as good as OWNED? That both she and her daughters could thereafter be threatened at any point to do their bidding, and she'd be unable to refuse? I've lived with that knowledge since then, and it hasn't lessened my opinion of her in any way.
You'll forgive me if this sudden deterioration of her health smacks of over-exposure to EMF, and I'd not be surprised to learn that double-vision (not a term she's familiar with) would neatly describe the problems she's having with her eyesight.. Is there a streetlight right outside her home, just as there'd been outside my previous faithful retainer's house in Amaoti? Florence, who'd been just a few years older than me, and whose bones had crumbled at an astonishing rate, and she'd eventually died in pain from various complications?
Had Mrs. Vezi in fact been another deliberately targeted labrat for the Project, and is Mrs. Ndenga to follow suit? Care to remind me again of this One World Order, as the masses are increasingly crammed into the zinc-sheeted laser-friendly containers, and flooded with all manner of wireless frequencies? Sure, there will be those like Vincent, hand-picked to be trained as Controllers, who will appear to benefit from their elevated positions, but who are in fact as easy to manipulate as their charges...
Do you truly believe the whispers? Whispers that are now being made in many cases, by the Blues? That a highly sophisticated technology has been wrested from the Corrupt and will be used to save the country from ultimate destruction? You bought that crock? You had no choice, and the sales pitch was irresistible? Bummer. With the elections and the ensuing escalated mischief-making on the horizon, those that I continue to trust will be easily persuaded to ignore my warnings, and to concentrate on ousting the Ruling Party.. A fait accompli, right, Martin?
Any curiosity that might have been aroused by my shrieks have been easily quashed by doubling up their workloads, giving the Project Authors more time to cover every inch of the country with this controlling technology.
Even as I scribble here, the Ugu Muni (which I'm guessing is East London) is on board the Project, and the inevitable water crisis and road-digging are well underway down there. That would include the one-horse town of Marburg would it not? A dot on the map that had piqued the Project Authors interest only once my good friends from No. 4 had relocated there, thinking they'd be safe...
Has Bradley been recruited to join the local quantum laser army down that way, or is he still a target who's often laid low by the frequencies that go for his weakened skeleton?
These people that I bring to your attention are merely a few examples of what awaits the masses at the end of this push to control the population, and I fail to see any good in it whatsoever. Would you sit me down and change my mind? Would you try and convince me that a certain amount of evil must be permitted in order for good to triumph? Would you be offended were I to spit on your skewed dogma and suggest you peddle your wares to someone even more gullible than myself?
LATER at 5.48pm
Spookalicious had waited until the GameWrecker pulled up at our gates just after 10am, before ostentatiously reversing out and heading off down the road. I'd stayed pain-free all the way over to Morningside, until we'd reached the big intersection of Argyle and Umgeni, when all hell had let loose, and I'd taken a series of mighty thumps to the base of my spine, despite the pain killers I'd taken a few hours earlier, to avoid this happening.
It had settled down to a dull unpleasant ache that had disappeared as we'd driven along the Marine Parade.
What I'd like to know is how long it had taken CrackerJack to get from No. 6 over to the Radio Station on Ridge Road and to settle himself behind his tracking devices, before picking us up at that intersection like that? Bingo? A heavily wired intersection already makes itself felt in a most unpleasant manner, and the added arrival of our Tracker in the Polo had been quite something to experience.
I took No. 17 to the shops with me this morning, and she'd regaled me with tales of attempted break-ins and criminals whistling to each other out in the dark. If questioned, what would our Superintendent of Electricity for Durban have to say about his 'highly sophisticated computerised anti-cable theft technology'? That it was a failure? Then why were all those additions to the streetlights not removed? Unless what Mr. Spence had meant to say, was that it was Sutcliffe's Smart City quantum surveillance technology, and that it was here to stay...
You may rest assured that as the engineered crime escalates in this neck of the woods, every incident is captured and relayed back to a chosen few at Sydenham Station, to be studied at leisure, and shared with selected residents who are heavily invested in this corruption. Do us a favour Laz? Don't bother with the eye-rolling denial, it doesn't become you.
Friday 14th March 2014 at 10.32.