My Betters?
(begun Friday 21st November at 6.15am)

Edit Friday at 3.37pm. At 1.15pm the power was cut, and a couple of calls came in from neighbours to verify that we were all in the same boat. I'd lugged a blue bag up to the top just an hour later at 2.15pm when one of No. 6's alarms went off and I'd turned to find the two now always-on outdoor lights at Cottage No. 11 were activated, and for some reason, so was our streetlight! The bulb blazed out a neon white and as I watched it died again. A couple more chirrups from Balliram's bunker and we were back in action. Was that hour-long demonstration of control created by the young gentleman who looks barely old enough to hold a driver's licence, as he sits ensconced within Agent Balliram's Bunker 'holding the fort'? Just how many proxy quantum Area Controller's is Jannie van Zyl's Favourite permitted to employ, and at what cost to the locals and their health?

What do you call someone who 'doesn't subscribe to a song of fear and hopelessness/helplessness'? (You'll have to pardon the incomplete quotation, but it's still worthy of a repeat).
Could the answer perhaps be 'Chosen'? Someone who's been blessed with an invitation to hop onboard Sutcliffe's Glorious Smart City quantum laser/wifi neighbour spying upon neighbour operation? After all, those with direct links/connections to the various Muni department officials who purport to be on some sort of Good Team, have no need to warble a dirge of misery, not so?

Old school and well educated, these Muni officials will insist that the Trojan Horse they have helped create within the City's Departments, is becoming stronger by the day, as the numbers hidden within it's belly increase, and it's just a matter of time before the Rot is forced to abdicate?
And there of course, is the catch. Time.
Once you or your precious children have officially joined the ranks of this Brave New Army, you are sworn to secrecy, and may not speak of it to anyone other than your fellow quantum Cadets, for fear of banishment or worse.
They will OWN you, from the minute you pass the early hacking initiation rites, and you WILL be silent on the subject, no matter how difficult it becomes for you.

My decade-long observations (okay, cue the obligatory derisive snort) have me concluding that the quantum laser/wifi technology has an almost immediate effect on the Operative's reasoning abilities,and that they rapidly start to feel in someway superior to the masses of Other, or Unchosen.
The occasional sniping raids carried out on fellow FB Community pages are designed with exactly what purpose in mind? To further demoralise those that are struggling to make a difference out there, but are not considered suitable quantum Project material apart from as targets or labrats?
Am I, as so often happens, missing the point, when all I get is a sudden nasty whiff of the Omnipotence Disease that goes hand in hand with the eerie ability to hang invisibly on an unsuspecting neighbour's bedroom wall and record their paltry private lives?

At a quarter after midnight last night, I woke properly, drenched in sweat, to find the Buttholesurfers having a full go at my rear end. A particularly nasty quantum laser party trick that eventually had me up and about at around 12.45am.. ‪#‎wavesto‬ batteurcarey.
I'd ventured back to bed roughly an hour later, armed with my cellphone and Allen Spence's number, just in case Rear-Admiral Balliram intended picking up where they'd left off.

A quick word with No.17 a day or so ago, confirms that I am by no means the only one being put physically through the fires of hell by these invisible quantum thuggees, and that there is no pain medication that will alleviate the agonies currently being directed at that old lady's leg. ‪#‎vomit‬
The Poor Creature's Handlers identified his overwhelming lust for pain and misery administration early on, and as such he'll be allowed to continue feeding off the more vulnerable of the Charges on this stretch of the powerlines, ad nauseum. He's been redeployed? To a certain extent I'll buy that, but it would appear he has installed trusted family and friends in the Bunker next door at No.6 to ensure that I am aware of their presence 24/7, whether the Beast himself is home or away. A proxy apple? A proxy apple's BF?

Fear and helplessness? Bugger that, dude. As hideously painful as it can and does get, I nonetheless am privileged to have a front row seat to watch in fascination at the ease with which the seemingly helpful and incorruptible are being morphed into brainwashed quantum Project zombies. In many cases, people that I still tend to regard as my Betters, who are now behaving with increasing and barely-concealed disdain and malice towards their fellow-man.
Enjoy the delicious cool weather while it lasts, and make the most of every day of freedom that you think you still have.
Peace.

Friday 21st November 2014 at 8.19am.