Friday, March 21, 2014
The Foresight Advisory Service.
(begun Thursday 20th March at 4am..)
*Whoever came up with that smartass company name, deserves a Noddy badge. If Georgie and Mo can't find the information you require, on the already crammed-with-data satellite, they'll have it stolen for you by morning, using their strategically placed quantum warriors. Foresight se GAT!*
What if you were to come awake in the early hours and to lie perfectly still, eyes closed, fully aware that Someone/Something was working away quietly on your hip area, and that it was pretty darned unpleasant? That when you did eventually shift, it was to feel a dull ache from your hip to your knee?
Would it not have your eyes leaking into the pillow, to find yourself the focus of such negative attention, even before you'd gotten out of bed?
I'd not bothered to sit up and log the time, for you know if you were present or not, and boy, if there IS such a thing as karma, you're certainly screwing with yours...
Was the Telkom wireless box already fixed to our streetlight pole by then, or had it been even before that, that I'd taken to firing my little pump-action toy pellet gun at the lamp's plastic casing? Hardly a day had gone by when I hadn't stood at my kitchen door enjoying the satisfying thunk as I hit that glass/plastic covering, until eventually it was completely starred/cracked by my efforts...I'd outgrown that curiously childish phase, and of course they'd replaced it for a new one, and I'd pretty much forgotten about it until yesterday afternoon.
Once again, I'd seen the old man off to the shops, this time at 3.30pm, and I'd come back down to settle in front of the TV.
Just fifteen minutes later the dogs had hurtled out under the security gate, to go nuts down by the boundary wall.. I'd heaved myself up to go check on them and like clockwork Sophie had gone into the same routine she's been following since they recently began their frenzied behaviour in that green covered corner of the yard. She'd stuck her face under the ground-touching acalypha leaves next to the birdtray pole, and had suddenly flinched as if she'd been bitten by something, and had given a sharp, angry bark before launching into a mad noisy run, nose to the ground, hunting for something that didn't appear to exist..
Had I just witnessed a bit of laser target-practice taking place? Had someone nailed her, right there in the face, and had that invisible beam been carrying the frequency that sets them off like that? Whatever..
I'd hauled out my toy pellet gun and had used the Telkom wireless box on the pole down in that corner for a bit of my own target practise.. One in five tries achieved a satisfying thwack to the box covering, and hopefully a couple more had hit it's innards soundlessly...
Man, it felt good, and of course my aim will improve with practise. It may be a futile gesture, but I like to think I'm being pro-active here... After a bit, I'd managed to call the dogs in, and I'd closed the front door itself to keep them in.. They'd settled down remarkably, and almost before I knew it, the GW was back safe and sound, and there'd not been a repeat of that engineered mischief..
Despite watching the dog rear back like that, from something that had struck her in the face, I'll not make the error of assuming that each time it happens, it's a remote attack, and that there's no-one there in person, for that could prove to be a fatal error. Instead, when CleverDick embarks on that particularly nasty bit of fun, I'll concentrate on perfecting my aim at his wireless box, whether I can cause it damage or not. It's the little things folks, believe me, it's the little things..
Have any of you come to recognise the Oscar Pistorius trial for what it really is? How it's become a carefully manipulated distraction? By no means on the grand scale of 9/11, where, the more I think about it, the more I see that ghastly tragedy as a gigantic collaborative plot by the American Government to terrify their citizens into accepting the complete removal of their right to privacy and good health.. Crazy? You think?
Maybe their chains of quantum laser warriors in each neighbourhood aren't going up with the astonishing speed that's being achieved in our country, but 9/11 would've had the Experiment off to a fine start, nonetheless.
Was the vodacom Strategist privileged to see the stolen footage of what really happened at that larnie estate in Pretoria, when the young girl died screaming in pain and terror? Or is that information a closely guarded secret between the relevant Area Controller and his/her Handlers? Come now, let's not pretend that Pretoria is exempt from the neighbour-spying-on-neighbour quantum technology, and that it's restricted to Kwa Zulu Natal alone.. After all, there'd be some seriously rich pickings to be had in that elite complex, would there not? You can bet your bottom dollar that there'd been an invisible Watcher/Monitor present on the walls of Oscar's unit, throughout that entire bloody debacle, and that Someone somewhere has the stolen recording held tight in their grubby fist..
What about the Communications Officer at the Station that had responded to the first call-out? It certainly makes sense that that Officer would be a part of any quantum laser surveillance operations in the area? Could the mess-up of procedure by the cops have been designed deliberately, to ensure that the spoiled young man escapes justice oppie ou einde, or have you been brainwashed into thinking ALL our cops are both dumb and bent? Man, if I could just remember where I'd read that Pistorius counted several high-ranking officers among his personal friends, but I can't..
It would appear that Mo Shaik has finally chosen to make some serious money off of the Experiment that he initiated with the CIA, well over a decade ago... The GameWrecker had read out an article yesterday from the Sunday Times business report, that had said our Mo and his buddy George Fivaz were embarking on a new venture involving information gathering...
A venture that can't fail, when you consider how deeply Mr. Shaik's fingers are embedded in the quantum laser/wireless Project, and that he'll be privy to first dibs on any and all of the stolen information they need, to make their business a roaring success.. (Go check out Mo's Foresight Advisory Service 'rent an elite spook', and see what you think...) While it sure looks like he's planning on riding the coat-tails of the collaboration between himself and the Men in Black, his own community will continue to reel under the effects of the surveillance technology that he sold to the Muslim Leaders in this country, and Mr. Essay and Mrs. Haffejee are but two victims of his greed for power, and clearly considered expendible...
There will be hundreds more good Islamic followers who will fall innocently by the wayside before the entire country is wired, and if you think I'm wrong to lay this at Mo Shaik's door, you should think again...
It's 5.30am on the nose, and a bunch of hadedas out in the still dark valley announce that my Controller has just opened up the airwaves for the early morning data-theft operations.. I must go..
Friday 21st March at 3.55am
By the time I'd left for the shops at 8am yesterday, some Wag had the emissions running so high in ours, that even my old legs were trembling and shaky. An unpleasantness that had persisted right up to the Farmer's Market, where I'd taken a sudden single knife to my cancer, before things had suddenly improved. Although I'd had to resort to having a few words out loud with my Trackers in the Polo, for the most part I'd had a really great time out with the GameWrecker, and our invisible companions had treated me civilly enough..
I'd been back home by 2pm, and ten minutes later the dogs had raced outside in their now familiar frenzy.. She'd gone straight to the identical spot under the acalypha leaves, before they'd both disappeared, and I'd gone out onto the lawn to find the two of them in single file had picked their way carefully past the row of spikes I've put on that narrow ledge, and were gazing up expectantly at the precast wall between ours and Balliram's front deck.
You know the place. Where Someone has so carefully removed the top panel, to make it easier to climb over into ours? For just how long has my Master's Wall Jumper been my dogs BFF, and doesn't it just give you a warm fuzzy feeling? NOT.
The night-shift monitors had seen to it that I'd been half-awake for ages before, at 3am this morning, a bunch of hadedas had suddenly cried out nearby, at precisely the same moment the wireless song had changed dramatically in my ears, and that deep magnetic and unpleasant ache had hit me in my womb area. The Subject certainly appears to have expended any usefulness it may once have had, and the heroic quantum warriors have been given carte blanche to torture it to death?
Is this what you or your kids are signing up for, in such droves? Good luck with that.
LATER at 7.10am
At 7am on the dot I had sent out just three texts. One each to Allen Spence, Holson Mbehle, and Logie Naidoo. It read ' Let it be noted that the levels of wireless/power flooding our home right now have my ears squeezed and fillings singing. Disgusting actions which you appear to condone. Jane at 7am.'
Has the situation improved at all since then? Hardly.
Friday 21st March 2014 at 9.46am.