Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Virtual rape.
(begun Tuesday 29th April at 7.40am)

Were the Hugo Road residents suitably impressed by the theatrical production laid on at Mr. Dawood's student residences yesterday evening, or is it already a regular occurrence? Although we've heard similar scripts floating up the valley from the hostelry just across the Freeway, last night's gathering somewhere beyond the gum trees had been a first.
That deep rhythmic chanting that sounds for all the world like a Zulu impi whipping itself into a frenzy before battle, is pretty darned awesome, and I imagine that once the last block facing us becomes habitable, we'll be treated to front row seats?

Was it difficult to persuade the many Smart City Project supporters living on that once peaceful road, that the influx of hundreds of students was necessary to benefit the push to the New World Order? Did it take long before their feelings of betrayal became meek acceptance? How many of those Hugo Road citizens still have adolescents living at home? Teenaged Recruits to the Glorious Cause, some of whom will already have been ushered invisibly into designated apartments, to practise their laser skills upon the occupants?
Four huge blocks, crammed with guinea pigs, oops, sorry - I mean potential quantum guardians, within easy reach of the existing Controllers in this area.

Any interesting developments among the students in the block overlooking the Rose Avenue/Barnard Road cellmast? Despite the promises that will have been made to those students, the fact that many of them are set to be abused horrifically by the wireless weaponry, is obvious. Those among them who've already made the grade will be encouraged to join the fray, and will batter their fellows with impunity. I'd have to bet that those unregulated mast emissions are already fluctuating wildly, as the previously advantaged take every opportunity to experiment upon their prey.
Four blocks of easily manipulated, and for the most part, cash-strapped youngsters, is quite a shot in the arm for the Project Authors, I'm sure you'll agree? Any illness or deaths occurring in those flats, that could be ascribed to over-exposure to EMR, will be shrugged off and put down to natural causes, and you'll be none the wiser.

I used to speculate often of whether the Telecoms Strategist was ever in personal contact with the Organised Crime Bosses, and whether he'd actually met the likes of Michael Barnabas, Glen Agliotti, and the Rassool fellow down in the Cape. May I safely add young Mark Lifman to the list of Jannie's possible associates? What are the odds that that criminal was also handed control over a section of his neighbourhood, by means of the quantum laser/wireless technology? Was he, like our Earl, also given the unofficial title of Marketing and Promotions Manager for his area?
You can bet your patootie he was....
You loathe and despise my truths, and choose to ignore the dark side of this push to create a single heaving mass of blissfully happy humanity? So be it.

My Torturers had, even for them, become overly enthusiastic in their cruelties yesterday, and by 4.25pm I was was being treated to the red-hot poker persistently applied to my cancer. I'd sat there at the desk and had launched into a monologue on the merits of the astounding Fiddler's frequency, and whether or not their spouses or parents would regard certain aspects of that particular weaponry with the same animal-like pleasure it held for me.
Were they to become fully aware of this specific option available to the quantum recruits, would they be appalled or impressed?

It must be said that once my Listeners realised that I was hell-bent on discussing the Virtual Rape option, my pain had abruptly and completely vanished... Why? Did my Shift Monitor at 4.30pm have a relative newbie in tow? A still raw Recruit who has yet to be introduced to the ability to assault the female gender over the airwaves? Had my Monitor chosen to swiftly shut down their connection to ours, and move elsewhere, for fear his/her guest/companion would be offended by my words? Interesting, don't you think?

With the startling results achieved on this ancient crone, it was a given they'd try out this new option elsewhere. I'd checked with No. 17 and confirmed that she too was now encountering the weird period-like pains.
Do I risk our friendship and share with you what might later be said to have been told me in confidence? A trap? I'll keep the details to myself for the minute, but suffice to say the youngster on our stretch had developed an infected cyst on her ovary, which had later burst. Something you were totally unaware of, O Spook of my Life? Really?

Humbug! You and your cronies have been trying that Virtual Rape special out on a good few of the suckers that fall under your control, and that's a given. I've no doubt that you and your Superiors prefer it were labelled as a means of birth control, and certainly not a tool used to remove a young girl's virtue? Any of the students over at Dawood's hostels had to resort to a full hysterectomy (sp) yet? Being of the Simpleton variety, it had taken her sharp brain to point out that targeting a female's reproductive organs with the laser weaponry was unlikely to be done for her pleasure, but to deliberately ruin her chances of bearing a child or two in the future.

A weapon that more than a few of you nauseatingly sanctimonious buggers will applaud, if it ultimately leads to a drop in the population figures? Your own daughters, wives, and sisters will be excluded from this heinous scheme? Why would you think that, when the evidence on this stretch points so clearly to the contrary?
While Sue the Book at No. 5 had denied encountering any such mischief with her ovaries, I'd aver that a certain amount of uncharacteristic caution is being employed by the Perpetrators, as they don't wish to spook their newest Recruit (!!)

I've shared with you faithfully, the agonies I'd endured once this weapon had been unleashed in ours. How I would walk down the passage fearing that my entire womb was being somehow magnetically dragged from me. How my right ovary bore the brunt of the savage jabs, nearest the lounge window that allows my Good Neighbour's backdoor lights to shine into ours. My left ovary was also targeted, but to a lesser degree, and I'd endured weeks of pain and discomfort before my sniggering Invaders had finally discovered that giving pleasure could be almost as amusing as delivering pain.

Any luck with all the other unsuspecting females you've interfered with, my dears, or is it only those whose immune systems have been battered to such a degree like mine, that they react as I've done? A hands-free form of stress-release that can leave the Abused feeling that she has been cruelly gang-raped, or that she has encountered a truly wondrous and mind-numbing experience? And before any of you choose to consider that I'm under some sort of mind-control, forget it.
The attacks are very real, and are achieved by carefully aimed ultra-short laser beams, and if an area is targeted repeatedly, chances are the subject could end up with a cyst or worse...

So what's it to be? Will you share my words with your parents or spouse, who've so far been encouraged to ignore the finer details of your occupation? Or will the deliberate and ongoing cruelty in ours have me writing more on this particular weaponry, and quite possibly causing whispers to filter back to those who are carefully kept in denial?
A quick confab? Going into a hasty huddle? Whatever the outcome, I don't anticipate that the dogs will be called off anytime soon.

Have you checked the clouds out there this morning? Are they not fantabulous? Have the very best day that you possibly can, and


Tuesday 29th April 2014 at 8.15am.