The Pain Merchant
(begun Sunday 2nd March at 6.45am..)
*There I was today, trying to make a deal with the devil himself. Said out loud I wouldn't publish this one if he just dropped the wireless levels in the house. I'd been allowed to kip on Cloud 9 for well over three hours mid-morning, without the dreaded pinch to the spine or side, and this afternoon hadn't been bad at all. I was happy keeping my end of the bargain, but I'm afraid the Bastard next door has declined. If you don't care for any of the contents of this update, do us a favour and take it up with him, unless of course you've left it way too late and don't dare move? I've been laying there since 8.15pm taking various hits about my person as the vice has been tightened on my spine. Something that only seems to happen when I'm sitting in my TV chair, laying on the bed, or even here at the PC. Funny how I sat for over an hour in the Charge Office this morning without a twinge, and only during the last ten minutes had I grown a bit uncomfortable. That would of course have been due to the Company hovering invisibly nearby as I gave my statement to the charming Officer... * Written at 11.29pm Monday 3rd March 2014.
Although it's been made crashingly clear to me that offence is taken when I mention George Soros and his quantum Empowerment Fund, and that it's a subject to be avoided at all costs, discussing the Recruits and their many options available to 'persuade' feckless citizens to toe the line, shouldn't be a problem?
The cops and detectives had been swarming about the verandah and front lawn when someone had finally noticed it. An extremely slender 12" screwdriver shaft sans it's handle, was laying near the top step leading up onto the verandah. Pretty impossible to use as a weapon, as there was nothing to grip onto. What on earth had the youngster planned on using it for? Can I guess? That he'd been told that our security gate wasn't the top of the range, and he'd been shown how to insert that fine head into the lock and fiddle it just so, in a matter of seconds? Uhuh... Dammit if I wasn't right after all... My habit of leaving that gate to the lounge open so that the dogs may come and go, is well known to my Monitors, and a great bone of contention between me and the old man.
The GameWrecker has never grasped quite how vulnerable we are, and that with precision timing and the use of cellphones, we can be attacked at any point, security gates closed or not. I gottit early on, and figured that if they come for us, it wouldn't make a tinker's whether the gate was open or closed. If I were to head to the loo for five minutes, do you not think my Master could call the waiting stooge and say 'go! go! go! and he'd have that gate open in half a tick anyway? Course, it would be better off all round if it could be said after any sort of home invasion that the gate had been left open by the idiot woman, would it not, Stephen? And who would believe me were I alive to insist that it had been locked at the time? Who could tell afterwards that such a fine screwdriver had been employed to open the lock? A neat and plausible ending to a carefully engineered crime and the blame fairly on my shoulders.
Say I stepped out into the courtyard to hang out the washing. What's to stop my Monitors from alerting a nearby puppet and saying Go! Go! Go!..? That's how vulnerable we are and have been, since we were rigged up initially with the surveillance technology and the help of Balliram's Graduate Renette Newton and her ties to Brit Army Intelligence, as they'd placed any number of laser attractors/enhancers both inside and out of our home during our absence... Believe it or not, my disregard for security hasn't been based on stupidity, as much as you'd like to believe it, but by total acceptance of the ease with which it's now possible to get at us, one way or the other.. It's Answer D - It is written.
Speaking of which Stephen - Are you aware of your own danger right now? Seriously? I've been the pinata for these Gamers for over eight years if not more, and the fact is that I'm fully aware of every angle the engineered mischief can take. Are you? That the Russian Roulette you've always played as a cop now includes the probability that even your colleagues could be aiming that barrel in your direction or checking out footage stolen from your home? That just like us, you yourself are living on the edge, and your every move and word is filmed and stored? You find that exciting?
Monday 3rd March at 12am
Midnight, and the Merchant of Pain had driven me off my bed at 11.10pm to come sit here and chat to you. My little dog has, despite the appalling heat, managed to crawl right under the centre of our metal bedstead in an attempt to escape the worst of the wireless... I see the Spy next door has stopped his powerful wall light from flashing outside our windows, and is now running it at half mast instead. A very special frequency being emitted? Capable of achieving the most physical damage to his target?
I've just send a Distress text to Spence, Alison, Val, and Tamara that said "How are we since Wednesday's attack? Apart from gut problems (ARV's maybe) not too bad. Only like now when I'm driven off my bed with laser generated pain do I feel the need to share it with you. Thanks for listening. Jane 12.00am." You're welcome to believe that these late-arriving bouts of oddly-timed excrutiating pain are as a result of our wrestling match on the front lawn last week, but there are enough of you that will realise my opportunistic Controller has seized upon that event to cripple me even further...
*The BackFire frequency has just arrived here at the desk without any warning as my Watchers position themselves at my shoulder to check out my scribbles, and a fleeting twinge of earache hits me from the direction of his three aircon units..*
See Stephen, if he would just cease his mischief in ours, I'd probably find I had nothing much to write about, and would indeed STFU.. As it is, I mull over just how many officers at each Station are in on this wondrous technological experiment? May I venture to guess that 90% of the really good policemen at any one Station haven't a clue that this sophisticated and invasive scientific marvel is up and running? Why is that? Would you have us believe that the authorities consider it would only add to the already huge stress levels of their job? Or is the truth rather more simple, and those Good men would in fact be horrified to learns what's really going on?
That even the privacy of their own homes is being violated while they're out there on the streets risking their lives for Joe Public?
What's happening up at the Mountain Rise station in Sleepy Hollow these days? Just a hand-picked bunch of the originals getting feedback from the stolen information? Any of that handful managing the organised crime teams that are sent out to cause mischief across the suburbs in Pmb? You bet they are..
How does it work up at your Station? On a slightly more civilised scale? Only big-mouth gossips and dissenters are targeted via their powerlines, and the stolen footage from their homes shared among the stake holders up that way?
Have you had to laugh off my claims to anyone yet? Have you had to insist that I'm just some crazy old woman with a bee in her bonnet that talks kak?
Have you even begun to realise the enormity of what's going on here? A sharp cookie like yourself would have figured out from the getgo that the possibility of abusing this technology was extreme, but I'm not sure if you've worked out just how bad it is... Do you attend sessions where Denial is encouraged on a grand scale? Where you're reminded that even the occupants of the most heavily monitored home in eThekwini may be openly and brutally assaulted if required, and that this is okay? Fear not, for I've come to learn that there are plenty of genuinely good cops out there, although for some reason they don't appear to be aware of the quantum laser surveillance system, while I'd bet that in most cases the Rotten Apples are very much in the game.
Young man, may I say that if you can sleep soundly at night, knowing full well just what innocent residents like ourselves are being put through, then you're more brainwashed that even I could've imagined...
Balliram and his direct connections to Mo Shaik and Barnabas outrank you by a mile, and there's eff-all you can do about it? I'd hazard that you find me as unpleasant and deserving of this attention as the rest of your peers, and that your hands being tied has very little to do with anything...
Why has our fridge suddenly begun running as it should after so many years of playing up? Almost overnight it's stopped leaking, and the contents ae now really cold to the touch. Did I not always claim that our Powersupply Controller ran a good many of our appliances at the lowest levels he could get away with? Much as Sutcliffe had crowed he would have the water pressure to our taps lessened so dramatically, and has subsequently gone on to have our feed computerised and managed by Agent Balliram next door? *heads off back to bed...
LATER at 4.55am
I was woken rudely ten minutes ago by a whack to my calf FFS... No really...
I'd finally finished venting my initial spleen at around 1am, and had gone back on board Cloud 9 sans that killer squeeze to my spine, but more than ready to send out further Distress texts if need be.. I'd woken next at 2.20am, to find Sophie had crawled out from under the bed so I'd walked her down the passage and settled her in the lounge.. Might I add without the debilitating knives to my spine? Hau!
The hit to my calf just before 5am?
It's all about how one may be controlled and manipulated by one's health and pain, although the CIA chose to omit their real goal had they not?
My unfortunate Controller had decided I'd slept enough, and had administered his version of a wake-up call. You're impressed?
I'd watched yesterday as Balliram had his droog hack down just one of the indigenous trees that had grown up next to Eunice's sleeping quarters. Why just one? When I'd stepped out onto the verandah some time after he'd finished the job, it was to discover I now have clear line of sight to THIS Telkom wireless box on the telephone pole in the valley.
A box, that if you recall, the Microwave Boffin's Missus had denied emphatically played any part in surveillance whatsoever, and she'd in fact referred to my claim as a conspiracy theory, when in fact they form a vital component towards the theft of your privacy..
Was our Lazzie astonished when watching the footage of Wednesday's assault, at how the brick thrown at my head had simply bounced back off? How's about the point when the assailant had gone on to hit me with my gran's walking stick as I lay on the ground? So hard on the skull that it had snapped in half, and yet it hadn't slowed me? Enjoy that, Laz? Although I hadn't bled much from those blows, the scabs under my hair are crusting over nicely, and I'm sure you'll get a great deal of amusement from sharing that footage among your contacts..
Have a great day
Tuesday 4th March 2014 at 12.29pm