Ghost rain?
(begun Saturday 7th June at 5.40am)

What? Has she been judged and found wanting? She's failed to meet the excruciatingly high standards held by her nearby quantum laser Operatives? Should I attempt to warn the hard-working creator of the Bulwer FB forum to beware of Greeks bearing gifts? To remind her that all that glitters is far from gold, and that the silver flashes she may begin to pick up in her peripheral vision are the ultra-short lasers that are now flying about inside her home?

Should I tell her that her privacy is no more? That every word she utters, writes, or types, is now monitored and recorded by the Smart City quantum Information Thieves given control of that section of streetlights nearest her domicile? Were I to enquire whether her indoor lighting ever dips after dark, and whether she encounters strange walls of heat in certain areas round her home, would she say she hasn't noticed? Hopefully she spends more time out of her house than in. No sudden jabs of pain to her wrists or fingers? No throat-closing spasmodic fits of dry coughing? Has her geyser played up at all?
Her TV behaved badly, perhaps? Has she, like my VC, drawn the attention of mischief-makers, purely due to her diligence and refusal to give up?

It's a powerful drug, and the self-assured cockiness of a quantum laser recruit is pretty hard to hide, no matter what mask is employed, and the amiable veneer can turn into a snarl at the drop of a hat. I'd aver that it's difficult to avoid succumbing to the Omnipotence disease, once you find you have such enormous control over other people's lives.
Some of them mistakenly imagine themselves to be mini deities, and end up shooting themselves in the foot early on, as a result .
Will it affect her good work? Hopefully she's too smart for that, and hopefully she'll keep on doing what she's started, to the benefit of the community, without losing her ability to be kind.

I'd finished scribbling out my previous update and had headed back to bed to rest my eyes at 5.20am. No such luck. A gleeful recruit or two had waded right on in and began targeting the tissue in my legs with fervour. I could feel the unmistakable sensation of each jab employed. As I'd wanted to chat to you about the goings-on in Glenwood, it was no trainsmash to remove myself from those cretin's attentions (and ja, it does take one to know one), and return here to my desk.
Does your mama know what you were up to at 5.30am this morning? No wait! That could be an awkward question, so forget I asked.

It's a given that I'd never have gotten my groove back, were it not for the sheer cowardice displayed so regularly by my Master, and later by his graduates and fanboys. This entire Experiment is based on stealth and lies, and recruits are encouraged to have their children join the ranks at as young an age as possible.
You see merit in this ploy?
A 14-year old who's passed the initiation rite, required by the Smart City quantum project, and has mastered the art of hacking into a neighbour's home, and is then taught how to target the occupants physically, with their laser weaponry? You'd trust their Mentor/Tutor to keep them on the straight and narrow? Oh dear.

There's much that I'm grateful for at the moment. Walking out onto the dark verandah earlier, to clear skies, and not so much as a hint of sewage, was great. Of course, that can be easily re-enabled by a couple of judiciously aimed puffs of the artificially created wind funnels, but for the moment the air is clear.
Having a front row seat when the new apartment block of students becomes occupied and the lights are switched on, will be an eye-opener, and one that I'll enjoy sharing with you here. I try not to allow the dark things I speak of here, dampen my enthusiasm and curiosity, and I never forget to say thank you for the many good things that occur, however small. I'm a bloody work in progress, and we'll have to wait and see whether I can endure all the mischief to come.

LATER at 7.30am

I'd been sitting at the mirror in my bedroom five minutes ago, when, without any warning, the frequency I refer to as the Fabian Carey special was activated. A Nasty, that I aver would've been employed at it's top levels to take out the Director of St Phil's permanently, in just four months. Who's on this shift? Jesus' Sunbeam, popping in to do his buddy a favour? My dear Owner himself, inflamed that I should be grateful for anything at all, and come to deliver that particularly unpleasant pain to my colon? It's faded since coming back here to the desk, but the memory lingers on as intended...

Sunday 8th June at 5.08am

What's the connection? Apart from Lekha Allopi? When Mr. Dawood had arrived across the way to ride rough-shod over the resident's objections, and to erect his towering blocks of student accommodation behind Hugo Road, had I not remarked several times on the name of the company he'd created? Roseann.cc? (There's no e on the printed form, but it may well be that it should have been Roseanne.cc, and that a deliberate typo was made. )
Did I not speculate that the only person I knew with that name was Rajiv Narandas' mama, and I'd wondered aloud whether they were involved in Dawood's dodgy development?
That had been followed much more recently by a company vehicle I'd seen on site, bearing the logo DD Projects, which I'd googled to no avail.
Yesterday was the clincher . I'd been on the Big Yellow Taxi FB page, and had found mention of Jecholia Holdings, and the fact that prior to his recent death at 25 years old, Jenaide Charles had been the site Manager for that outfit.
Obviously I'm way out of my depth here, but I smell a rat, I truly do.

Frosty? Does Investigator247 (twitter) have the means to dig about in this regard, or will you back away from the suggestion that all three companies are somehow connected, and that the Narandas family are involved?
Did you snort with disbelief when I'd suggested Jenaide's death was anything but due to natural causes, and that his family are probably now in fear of their own lives? Come, come.. There are surely more interesting things for you to do than indulge in beer and rugby, as your cover would have us believe?
You're happy to hold hands with the psychopath, Operative Balliram, who in turn seems to be in close contact with Rajiv Narandas for some reason, which I find fascinating.
Are you SURE you're on the Good Team, Michael, or have you wandered off that path already?

Who is at the head of these shadowy development businesses, that is so powerful they even had the Racehorse Owner Roy Moodley scrambling to pour oil on the troubled waters between his son Lance and our Rajiv?
You should maybe check up on that Magistrate's health round about now? The one who'd found Narandas guilty of murder and had given him 18 years? Reiner Boshoff was the name.
None of the above interests you in any way, Frosty? You understand and accept that such wickedness must be allowed to flourish, if Joe Public is to be brought to his knees to accept the One World Order? Sies.

I'd been walking along the front garden path yesterday afternoon, when I'd felt a few faint drops of moisture hit my face, although the sky above was blue and perfectly clear . A bird? What? It wouldn't be worth remarking on, had it not been the third such incident this week.
The other had been out in the courtyard a couple of days ago, in fine weather, and the last had been as I'd climbed the top set of stairs to open the gates for my old man, shortly after sunset.
On that occasion the sky had still been a washed-out blue, and the stars were out, and there'd been the finest white veil in the sky that you really had to concentrate to see.

And yet, on all three occasions, I swear If felt like rain on my face.. Anyone care to venture what's causing this phenomenon, and just what that moisture contains, and how and why it appears in mostly cloudless skies?
Peace.

Sunday 8th June 2014 at 7.10am.