15.

Did you ever find, could you ever find what you needed in this place? He really just needed to dial and it was delivered within twenty minutes, he could not really claim responsibility for the means by which these were obtained, he knew they had standards, they had precision, it was almost robotic, an automation, not even a flicker in their eyes, always wearing ray-bans, they could have been ten or twenty different people, or just one person, or maybe they never seemed to have aged, like clones, trained rats in this maze. They had learned almost everything they knew by electrocuting animals, like Frankenstein re-animating the flesh, to make it correspond to their will, this mastery of the soul, the awareness of thought on particles at a sub-atomic level is a symmetrical parallel, what malevolence can be conjured from the human brain, the human perception of awareness. That this barrier could be altered by simple Chemistry was alchemy, the barrier between memory and reality could be changed, could be altered, such clones could undoubtedly made, and which were the dreams, and most were real.

They knew that Secrets were better left kept locked up, and where safer than here. If it was stored and filed on the correct microfilm and kept away from prying eyes, is kept for prying eyes, so they can remember this crusade for freedom, this their gift to the people, and they loved them for it. The spiders on the ceiling spin their webs in death heads like Pirates which is apt, he smiles at them instead of sleeping, because he can see the stars in the murk, and grey ghosts from the future, brought here to smile upon him as he works here,

Nothing can take his attention from his task, his care is uppermost, and if perfection is impossible a high quality can be obtained, at least in his eyes. A stitch here and cut their, self expression is the most noble, the greatest and only thing he can reach for now, and if ever before, still could he remember, routine is always required, and this they sometimes allowed him, watching him, and if he could catch insects he would because he has read of Valdo, and these times are worse and bloodier, and the war is the same, these secrets he could tell, he was evidence of something that they needed to keep under wraps, a blizzard of white noise for my nostrils, government issue protein packs, information was the key, how that information was communicated, censorship of the free press, myths and culture are to be suggested ever so subtlety, journalists are stable visible people, a Reuters correspondent is somewhat invisible, and what are they doing in the back end of beyond filing telegraphs, it is not the muscled man sweating in military fatigues watching green blips on his computer whether or not he is under the Kings Shilling or his own misguided folly.

Magnetic attraction, they needed something that worked like pheromones, to catch the flies in their spiders web, catalogues of perverts, IP addresses matched to Credit Card records, files on everyone who has logged into the internet, bank details, photographs, perversions, an infinity of noise amongst the swaying contented long grass, and a billion mouths catch breath, and he can call them up, he almost does this at random, in order to catalogue them, to organise them, to remember them for some reason, they let him wander amongst the servers banks, kilometres long, filling the old nuclear bunkers from the 1950’s, he could hear them humming, vibrating, static as he paced this hangar. He had seen the Subways in the city, and they, however they were, had contrived over the years to build underground railways on a scale that was massive, and he wondered how they had kept the workforce quiet, the silences as they took him on journeys of 1000’s of Kilometres to Japan and China for daylong meeting, interrogations ,

The slot in his cell flips open and his breakfast has arrived, it is a steel gate, and this is a steel cell, he murmurs to himself often, an electric light is better than the Sun, all seven of them. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever separate the dreams from the memories, thirty minutes later, the slot opens and the file arrives, he runs over to it and places it at its desk, he puts on his spectacles and begins to peer at the contents. Thomasine helps later on and the drools from his mouth fall onto the floor and follow some slope to the drain, his rest of malaise, it is better than dreaming, if only he could close his eyes and only see blackness, no conscious troubled him, if ever so slightly, greatly, for him sleep was a torture of star-bursts, and fountains of light, they had turned his brain from hard to putty gold, and they had locked him in their vault.

It was a world view, it was an opinion not given much sounding in public because it was insidious in its message, it was a profound an utter belief in a natural order, a hierarchy in which they were elite, conspiracy is human nature, it is evident within our social structure of small intimate groups, it is present in every household, in every workplace, it is entirely prevalent. This also holds true for those who possess fabulous wealth which they can wield, be this wealth of nations or esthetical influence that they possess opinions and the means to set those to work for their cause, and bribery is the greatest affectation of any true ideology of the masses. To be party to their confidentiality would reveal a beak rather than their executives smiling face, a deaths head grimace, and perhaps they would lynch them if they heard their plans, but probably not, because they are on the whole well bribed in their means, because what more can a billion buy you, such things have hopefully yet to be invented to indulge the whims of the rich, and what they need is more space.

What value is all the wealth in the world when there are none to gaze up at awe at all their achievements? He mutters to himself most often, they listen to him using the bugs, names and numbers, names and numbers from the files, as he pores over the faces, one face in three hundred billion is anonymous, one eye is invisible in five hundred, how many names did they all have. He could hear his neighbour banging sometimes in the wall, monotonous, he listened, he liked to murmur more than he liked to bang, maybe another day he would like to bang, but mostly he liked to mutter.

They were disbelieving over the power of their bribery, they knew that their tools were fallible; it was the natural order of things that they would be replaced, and they are first to call any challenge a tyranny, how far could they reach, how much could they change anything amongst all the babble, and ephemera. Even in a Democracy the people appreciate being ruled, it has always been this way.

The things which people know nothing are far away, and the only things they hear are the things that you tell them, they are the enemy, they kill your young soldiers, and we bring peace and law to these places. He does not think it is ignorance that allows them to wage this war, to occupy the provinces like Rome, to export their Democracy like Athens, if the lesson of History tells them anything, that if they provoke Sparta, they will wage war and they will win through sheer resilience to attrition that your people have never possessed. If they aspire only through analysis of the means, and to know that the means are available, to have that access to this, and know that they can wield this great power for good, and not be corrupted, not be taken, if all of them are taken with this engorgement to deny the chance of some other to take their place.

This was their justification to deny this to the Chinese, or the Japanese, depending on which was the flavour for the month, and when they were nostalgic and had drunk enough vodka it was the Russians. And in the morning to chase the previous night away they sipped on whiskey all fear left them and they felt the old Bloodlust towards the bloody English, and thought to themselves at last some sense, that they would not pretend to be Alexander or Cicero and ride upon an Elephant as a Satrap, but if they would be replaced, their last chance to give this chance of great and beyond comprehensible scheme of enrichment which is paramount and testament to the founding philosophy to their people, alone in the free world born free. To take all thought of Lord’s and the like and take the power and give it to the people, in such means they can find by the basic comprehension that if a person is given full information that they will give a humane decision, based upon all the acts of selfless kindness and empathy that suffered no selfish seed other than an awareness, of a belief that this time is a gift. An eye and they remember they are not the English, eye.

That is the problem with Computers, they are storage devices, you can package data on them, but how much data can actually compiled, and what value is this data in the greater scheme of the things that the Historians treasure, or the scientists measure and manipulate, is culture a thing derived from a television screen or from what you are saying now, or thinking now. A lot of data was stored, like the Monks in 12^th Century fabricating the works of Plato, they papyrus of stone, bound testament to some other Decimated system, choleric in its spontaneity, that the Caste System is Utopia and they shall work their fingers to the bone for what greater purpose, than more wealth, gained through a torrent, glory is more important the sallow life, there is nothing on Earth that stirs the hearth of Empirical.

The thought of hope had been discredited like Fernando. They had let other loose like him before to tarnish this movement, to break Maradonna’s legs, in the fury, the behemoth challenge, a creature that feeds itself, a movement of avarice which is self contained, like Jim Jones, they had said, I will show you Communism, I will show you this new belief, and the murder which is surely its only and precise conclusion. This movement of yours, this rejection of our needs, see what it brings? The land of the Soviet Union with 200,000,000 million dead, or who could know what Stalin had told the rest of the world, as he built his crematorium to show Alexander the butcher, could not hope to rebuild its shattered nation, to protect itself from Invasion by the old empires perching upon its branch the Shattered, the Chatterer, the pigeon bull-dog careering hither and thither until all the wealth of all the lands is lost. Stalin knew that World War II had been fought mostly to the last Russian, then German, then Chinaman, never them in great number, and now the Arabs at last understand their methods of slaughter, some grace found at least, it is in its grave now this hope. It is deep underground and crushed under rocks.

The actions were not ours, he knows this, perhaps the suggestion might have been ours, and oil always greases the machinery, helps you cut the fucking box in half to see what is Fucking inside the thing, a little push here a little push their, Saudi Arabian skies are mostly empty, there is plenty of room to practise how to fly into things, it is not really that hard, whatever we disseminate is taken as the truth, it is the ultimate sanction. We have acquired our first significant province, perhaps the only significant province, unless miles and miles of tangled plastic floating and congealing can be taxed and added to the common wealth.