With regard to With regard to my parents I was raised with several “parents”. In the United States, where I lived most of my life, I was with my mother and father but I also had loving parents in Europe whom I would visit regularly. Both provided for my needs and encouragement and each held a special, loving bond with me. My European parents groomed me within the Order caring form my spiritual and political training. Living with them was always a rare and exciting time. With them I seemed to have no limits nor could I show no fault. They would indulge me without end as long as I excelled in my studies. Discipline was rare with them, often no more than a cold and silent stare, but it would hurt me to the bone. My American parents helped me endlessly to create a persistent impression of normalcy that would hide my volcanic ambition and complex desires.
One of my profound experiences with my European family happened in my early teens. It was my first introduction to the man they referred to as “the seer”.
With my interactions in the Order what I learned about the outer world is that the people there are shortsighted, myopic and habitual. They would rather respond to their immediate needs than to any great vision. Thinking and forethought are for them an exception. The few who are skilled at it excel and prosper. Fewer still have been allowed to marry into our ranks. But many of us aspire to greatness and if it is not greatness of the world then we can specialize within the Order.
One such person I had heard about since I was a child. He was simply referred to as “the seer” and I was told that he possessed powers of foresight and divine the truth from people soul merely with a look in his eye. The story was that he was bred from a long line of seers and psychics with both sides of his family agreeing to work to bare forth a perfect seer. I was told that his only training was in becoming a seer and that he gave up schooling and education so that he would become a perfect instrument for the Order.
At first I assumed it was merely a child's tale used to frighten children and amuse adults but it was my European family that showed me the truth of this story. I was ten or eleven years old and I was told that I would soon see the seer and he would give me guidance and direction. I was warned to take him quite seriously and as the date of the meeting approached I heard more stories about him. I was told that he has one eye and that he plucked out his other eye so that he could turn it toward the other world and see the future.
Finally the time came to visit with the seer. It was evening and I was told a car had approached our house and that he was readying himself for me. Everyone was solemn almost fearful at the knowledge of his presence. I was dressed and led to a room of the house. The door was closed and I was told to step inside as everyone hurriedly rushed away.
Walking inside I saw a frail man with white hair sitting at a small table. As he seemed to gaze into space he neither turned toward me or gestured to me. There was only another chair facing his so I took a seat and found I was facing him. The dim light showed a man well past sixty, perhaps much older. He seemed frail and gaunt, no more than 100 pounds. His affect was so blank I thought him to be one of those souls who is fed and bathed by others because their disabilities leave them incapable.
The moment passed with him unmoving. I began to feel uncomfortable and fidget in my chair. At a moment when my attention seemed to drop he reached out and grabbed my arm from across the table like a snake and with strength uncommon for is size he pulled me closer. Then I saw more clearly his face. Aged by time his skin was pale. His left eye showed only a pale hollow socket while his right eye drew me closer. The proximity of his healthy eye felt like a knife blade closing in on me. I tried to squirm but he was like a stone.
After a time of cutting through me with his eyes he let go of me and fell limp. It was at this point that I realized there was another person in the room. The room was lit well enough that I had no idea how I could have not seen them. At that moment they rushed to the seer with no concern for my well being and leaned in close to him. A murmur came from him that seemed like a combination of unintelligible words and escaping gas. The mysterious person listened intently and began to scribble on a note pad. I then realized he was the seers scribe.
This exchanged continued until no further noise came from the seer. My heart was racing. Finally the scribe directed his attention to me and shouted “Go!” and began to help the seer to his feet.
Two nights later at a party that I attended with my European family I saw the seer again. This time he was as vibrant and active as anyone in the room. He stood just over five feet tall, slender and black patch over his left eye. The patch made itself seem like an impressive ornament on his face. It was by the encouragement of my family that I was to greet every guest of the party and found approaching him again quite discomforting. When greeting me he stumbled over my name behaving as if we had never met. While he had burned and impression into my mind I was to him just another cypher, a person to read and report to the Order. I was raised with several “parents”. In the United States, where I lived most of my life, I was with my mother and father but I also had loving parents in Europe whom I would visit regularly. Both provided for my needs and encouragement and each held a special, loving bond with me. My European parents groomed me within the Order caring form my spiritual and political training. Living with them was always a rare and exciting time. With them I seemed to have no limits nor could I show no fault. They would indulge me without end as long as I excelled in my studies. Discipline was rare with them, often no more than a cold and silent stare, but it would hurt me to the bone. My American parents helped me endlessly to create a persistent impression of normalcy that would hide my volcanic ambition and complex desires.
One of my profound experiences with my European family happened in my early teens. It was my first introduction to the man they referred to as “the seer”.
With my interactions in the Order what I learned about the outer world is that the people there are shortsighted, myopic and habitual. They would rather respond to their immediate needs than to any great vision. Thinking and forethought are for them an exception. The few who are skilled at it excel and prosper. Fewer still have been allowed to marry into our ranks. But many of us aspire to greatness and if it is not greatness of the world then we can specialize within the Order.
One such person I had heard about since I was a child. He was simply referred to as “the seer” and I was told that he possessed powers of foresight and divine the truth from people soul merely with a look in his eye. The story was that he was bred from a long line of seers and psychics with both sides of his family agreeing to work to bare forth a perfect seer. I was told that his only training was in becoming a seer and that he gave up schooling and education so that he would become a perfect instrument for the Order.
At first I assumed it was merely a child's tale used to frighten children and amuse adults but it was my European family that showed me the truth of this story. I was ten or eleven years old and I was told that I would soon see the seer and he would give me guidance and direction. I was warned to take him quite seriously and as the date of the meeting approached I heard more stories about him. I was told that he has one eye and that he plucked out his other eye so that he could turn it toward the other world and see the future.
Finally the time came to visit with the seer. It was evening and I was told a car had approached our house and that he was readying himself for me. Everyone was solemn almost fearful at the knowledge of his presence. I was dressed and led to a room of the house. The door was closed and I was told to step inside as everyone hurriedly rushed away.
Walking inside I saw a frail man with white hair sitting at a small table. As he seemed to gaze into space he neither turned toward me or gestured to me. There was only another chair facing his so I took a seat and found I was facing him. The dim light showed a man well past sixty, perhaps much older. He seemed frail and gaunt, no more than 100 pounds. His affect was so blank I thought him to be one of those souls who is fed and bathed by others because their disabilities leave them incapable.
The moment passed with him unmoving. I began to feel uncomfortable and fidget in my chair. At a moment when my attention seemed to drop he reached out and grabbed my arm from across the table like a snake and with strength uncommon for is size he pulled me closer. Then I saw more clearly his face. Aged by time his skin was pale. His left eye showed only a pale hollow socket while his right eye drew me closer. The proximity of his healthy eye felt like a knife blade closing in on me. I tried to squirm but he was like a stone.
After a time of cutting through me with his eyes he let go of me and fell limp. It was at this point that I realized there was another person in the room. The room was lit well enough that I had no idea how I could have not seen them. At that moment they rushed to the seer with no concern for my well being and leaned in close to him. A murmur came from him that seemed like a combination of unintelligible words and escaping gas. The mysterious person listened intently and began to scribble on a note pad. I then realized he was the seers scribe.
This exchanged continued until no further noise came from the seer. My heart was racing. Finally the scribe directed his attention to me and shouted “Go!” and began to help the seer to his feet.
Two nights later at a party that I attended with my European family I saw the seer again. This time he was as vibrant and active as anyone in the room. He stood just over five feet tall, slender and black patch over his left eye. The patch made itself seem like an impressive ornament on his face. It was by the encouragement of my family that I was to greet every guest of the party and found approaching him again quite discomforting. When greeting me he stumbled over my name behaving as if we had never met. While he had burned and impression into my mind I was to him just another cypher, a person to read and report to the Order.
More to come ....
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
My early days
Throughout my life there have been two lives that I have lived, one by day and the other by night. This is true of all people within our Family. By day we live our lives much as we would appear. We hold jobs, own businesses and hold government offices. By night our attention is turned to the fulfillment of the great plan. That is the separation point between the mundane world of appearances and the world of the Order. It physically hurts me to even write these words but it is stated again and again from as early as I can remember “Don't talk about day at night.”
Allow me to start at the beginning.
Since my earliest years I've known that I was part of something special. To speak of my family and say that we were “privileged” would be an understatement. Our freedom to travel the world made me feel as if I were a part of the elite. It was common place to be told we are going to Germany or Spain or the Vatican and within a day be on the plane. There were always two events to be attended; one for the day and the other the night.
Regardless of the situation it was reinforced on me that I was special. I was reminded that I would one day play a special part in our great Family. Everyone who was considered so “special” was given a constant barrage of tests, evaluations and training. As children these tests appeared mostly as games. The test givers were doctors, specialists and nannies that were given the dual task of teaching and training me. Very quickly the games became more urgent and doing well became almost mandatory. They had tested the limits of my ability and forced me to perform up to those limits and beyond. My successes were rewarded lavishly and the punishments for failing seemed without limit.
Where I learned first to excel was in memorization. At first I was taught a simple mnemonic system but within a short time I was given long and random words that I would repeat back in detail. Sometimes days would pass before I was prompted to repeat back what I'd memorized. I learned very quickly that every time a teacher said “I want to show you something important” that a part of me should awaken and learn and not forget.
Other trainings were done in groups with children of the same age. Many of these were physical fitness or martial arts trainings. Often we would gather standing at attention, not knowing what to anticipate. The instructors would demonstrate to us what to do and ask us to imagine doing it. Then we would begin that drill ourselves. We learned quickly the patience of the instructors always had its limit. Perhaps one or two mistakes were allowed but if a child needed repeated correction they would be severely punished. At those moments the instructor nod to a man or woman, usually wearing all black, and step aside. The “punishers” in black would usually take the child to the front of the group and beat them. Martial arts training usually delivered the most painful discipline. When the discipline ended the instructor would often rush in to briefly comfort the child, give him encouragement and guiding him back to his place. Seldom would more than one student need such punishment.
As I began my training as a programmer I learned that this method of instruction helped to bond the child to the instructor and make them want to do well. Indeed, to this day, I remember fondly my instructors. There are also memories of those dark and faceless figures that always seemed to loom in corners. Sometimes I remember the smile on their faces as they administered their beatings.
It has been my fortune to have worked with a few of the punishers who had abused me. Under my guidance their programming sessions with me were very prolonged and provided me with great satisfaction to see them writhe and hear their screams. The last part of their programming was a series of electro shocks to the brain that left them catatonic and incontinent and removed most of their memories. They were left for others to train and reeducation. I was left with the ultimate satisfaction.
More to come ....
Allow me to start at the beginning.
Since my earliest years I've known that I was part of something special. To speak of my family and say that we were “privileged” would be an understatement. Our freedom to travel the world made me feel as if I were a part of the elite. It was common place to be told we are going to Germany or Spain or the Vatican and within a day be on the plane. There were always two events to be attended; one for the day and the other the night.
Regardless of the situation it was reinforced on me that I was special. I was reminded that I would one day play a special part in our great Family. Everyone who was considered so “special” was given a constant barrage of tests, evaluations and training. As children these tests appeared mostly as games. The test givers were doctors, specialists and nannies that were given the dual task of teaching and training me. Very quickly the games became more urgent and doing well became almost mandatory. They had tested the limits of my ability and forced me to perform up to those limits and beyond. My successes were rewarded lavishly and the punishments for failing seemed without limit.
Where I learned first to excel was in memorization. At first I was taught a simple mnemonic system but within a short time I was given long and random words that I would repeat back in detail. Sometimes days would pass before I was prompted to repeat back what I'd memorized. I learned very quickly that every time a teacher said “I want to show you something important” that a part of me should awaken and learn and not forget.
Other trainings were done in groups with children of the same age. Many of these were physical fitness or martial arts trainings. Often we would gather standing at attention, not knowing what to anticipate. The instructors would demonstrate to us what to do and ask us to imagine doing it. Then we would begin that drill ourselves. We learned quickly the patience of the instructors always had its limit. Perhaps one or two mistakes were allowed but if a child needed repeated correction they would be severely punished. At those moments the instructor nod to a man or woman, usually wearing all black, and step aside. The “punishers” in black would usually take the child to the front of the group and beat them. Martial arts training usually delivered the most painful discipline. When the discipline ended the instructor would often rush in to briefly comfort the child, give him encouragement and guiding him back to his place. Seldom would more than one student need such punishment.
As I began my training as a programmer I learned that this method of instruction helped to bond the child to the instructor and make them want to do well. Indeed, to this day, I remember fondly my instructors. There are also memories of those dark and faceless figures that always seemed to loom in corners. Sometimes I remember the smile on their faces as they administered their beatings.
It has been my fortune to have worked with a few of the punishers who had abused me. Under my guidance their programming sessions with me were very prolonged and provided me with great satisfaction to see them writhe and hear their screams. The last part of their programming was a series of electro shocks to the brain that left them catatonic and incontinent and removed most of their memories. They were left for others to train and reeducation. I was left with the ultimate satisfaction.
More to come ....
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Beginning
I have chosen to write this document after a great deal of thought and not without great concern for my wellbeing. It is a document that describes, in as much detail as I can offer, the systematic programming process of the members of our Order.
To many the word “programming” means the evil manipulation of others but I have no doubt about the worthiness of our cause. The Order seeks nothing less than the salvation of humanity. Each step of our plan is vital and programming is a justifiable means to worthy end.
As a result of this choice to make this record I have battled many long held inner conflicts that are a result of my own lifetime of programming within the Order. Holding firm the secrets of our Order is the first rule, often punishable by death. I have “died” many times during the writing of these words. For one month I endured a paralysis on my right side that was diagnosed as a stroke. I knew the malady was not a stroke but an inner program trying to prevent me from making this record.
Many times I would sit to read what I had written and look at the words without any memory of having written them. Only after hours of examination, and often severe migraines, would something “snap” and flood me with the memories and purpose of my writing.
I am by nature and necessity a very organized person but this record is at best a hodge podge of my experiences. Within the Order we are trained to lock away thoughts, actions, memories, behaviors and even inner personalities to more perfectly fulfill our greater purpose. What has resulted is that during my archeology of my memories there would be experiences that have no continuity to the rest of my life. Memories would come forth without knowing how the experience started or ended. Emotions would flood through me without any seeming cause or origin. I have spent many a night assailed by visions of dark figures around me as I forced out words onto the pages.
Nonetheless, I feel that someone must know our work and it is only my story that I can tell.
It is my duty, within this great plan, to see that those whom I am given to work with follow their orders. They must be trained to follow each order with exacting precision and without hesitation and it is my responsibility to make that happen. Each order given is a holey act to perform as part of The Great Plan. Each disobedience is a transgression that is dealt with swiftly and severely. There is no other option. Any person who seems unable to follow orders in this way does not last long. An intravenous injection of insulin or potassium chloride is often used to appear as a heart attack or the arrangement of a traffic accident is enough to lay aside any question of suspicious death. Fortunately, that seldom needs to happen. I am very good at what I do and have sat on the high counsel to supervise others so that their ability to program is raised to the same proficiency.
Much to my joy, everything that I have done for the Order has worked perfectly. However should anyone be so daring as to break our vow of secrecy they easily be labeled “mentally disturbed”, their claims would be seem so outlandish that no one would believe them. That is if we did not deal with them first.
I am greatly fortunate to have risen high enough within the Order that there are few sufficiently qualified to act as my programmers and question my orders. One of the benefits of ambition within the Order is the higher one goes within the hierarchy the fewer people one must answer to. There is no doubt that had I attempted this record of my life at an earlier age it would have been preempted and halted. Lie detectors would have revealed this secret had I not yielded to torture and electro convulsive shock would have been used to erase all memory of my own actions.
I have learned that there are people who would find these steps barbaric and inhuman yet I remain certain of the righteousness of our purpose. There are some things so great that the ends justify the means.
More to come ....
To many the word “programming” means the evil manipulation of others but I have no doubt about the worthiness of our cause. The Order seeks nothing less than the salvation of humanity. Each step of our plan is vital and programming is a justifiable means to worthy end.
As a result of this choice to make this record I have battled many long held inner conflicts that are a result of my own lifetime of programming within the Order. Holding firm the secrets of our Order is the first rule, often punishable by death. I have “died” many times during the writing of these words. For one month I endured a paralysis on my right side that was diagnosed as a stroke. I knew the malady was not a stroke but an inner program trying to prevent me from making this record.
Many times I would sit to read what I had written and look at the words without any memory of having written them. Only after hours of examination, and often severe migraines, would something “snap” and flood me with the memories and purpose of my writing.
I am by nature and necessity a very organized person but this record is at best a hodge podge of my experiences. Within the Order we are trained to lock away thoughts, actions, memories, behaviors and even inner personalities to more perfectly fulfill our greater purpose. What has resulted is that during my archeology of my memories there would be experiences that have no continuity to the rest of my life. Memories would come forth without knowing how the experience started or ended. Emotions would flood through me without any seeming cause or origin. I have spent many a night assailed by visions of dark figures around me as I forced out words onto the pages.
Nonetheless, I feel that someone must know our work and it is only my story that I can tell.
It is my duty, within this great plan, to see that those whom I am given to work with follow their orders. They must be trained to follow each order with exacting precision and without hesitation and it is my responsibility to make that happen. Each order given is a holey act to perform as part of The Great Plan. Each disobedience is a transgression that is dealt with swiftly and severely. There is no other option. Any person who seems unable to follow orders in this way does not last long. An intravenous injection of insulin or potassium chloride is often used to appear as a heart attack or the arrangement of a traffic accident is enough to lay aside any question of suspicious death. Fortunately, that seldom needs to happen. I am very good at what I do and have sat on the high counsel to supervise others so that their ability to program is raised to the same proficiency.
Much to my joy, everything that I have done for the Order has worked perfectly. However should anyone be so daring as to break our vow of secrecy they easily be labeled “mentally disturbed”, their claims would be seem so outlandish that no one would believe them. That is if we did not deal with them first.
I am greatly fortunate to have risen high enough within the Order that there are few sufficiently qualified to act as my programmers and question my orders. One of the benefits of ambition within the Order is the higher one goes within the hierarchy the fewer people one must answer to. There is no doubt that had I attempted this record of my life at an earlier age it would have been preempted and halted. Lie detectors would have revealed this secret had I not yielded to torture and electro convulsive shock would have been used to erase all memory of my own actions.
I have learned that there are people who would find these steps barbaric and inhuman yet I remain certain of the righteousness of our purpose. There are some things so great that the ends justify the means.
More to come ....
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