Wednesday, February 14, 2018

System Collapse

I watched DHS go down, ICE crumbled and our borders were porous. We were on it, we saw it coming and fought as hard as we could.

Then the police went. Warrants went out the window, and so did fair trial. You wouldn't believe some of the things we were persecuted for, and none of it made sense. You yelled at your son for getting liquid nails on his hands (yelled at him to get to the sink), you filed a noise complaint because of your neighbor screwed a family friend then got REALLY loud about it, you could hear it through the wall. Crazier things. You won't hold an iPad and smile properly (that was my favorite warning), You're not learning fast enough.

So you're going for the military psychics. I've studied counter terrorism, I know damn well that when they send messages they're coded, and they're coded so that you can't understand them unless you join their cult. Because they don't makes sense. They're about the most basic, primitive of things- dominance. They'll rape you and tell you it's ok. They'll beat you and tell you it makes you stronger. But unlike the discussions and goals you develop during marriage, the military, or any of the other places that have otherwise hostile environments- you don't get a say, or an explanation, or even an understanding of the goals. You're to follow blindly.

It wasn't until the Intelligence Community collapsed that I found the pattern. The DoD has ALWAYS backed us. We've gotten clipped, we've had counter purposes, but they have ALWAYS backed us. So what do the enforcement arm of ICE, the police and the intelligence community all have in common? Because the last one just went.

The FBI is considered the highest enforcement portion of each. Locally, they even top ICE because they serve that purpose for two agencies (their own and DHS). This is going to be so fucking great.

It's not that the whole thing isn't corrupt, human trafficking has been around forever, Gitmo is still open and I once made a joke that I wouldn't do something for all the coke in DC (implying it might be the equivalent of all the tea in China). It's that being corrupt and COLLAPSING are two different things.

Can I just move yet? This so isn't my job, and I'm the highest profile military psychic- I'm the programmes' poster girl... this is going to be so fucking great...

Sunday, February 4, 2018

The Second Cold War, The Third World War (the Psychic Wars)

I wrote my boss a love song once. It makes no sense if you look back three, ten, or even fifteen years ago. I didn't technically have contacts in intelligence. I wasn't technically an agent. So I said something naive. I told him I loved him. And then I stayed down, I sat at his feet for fifteen long years, learning to be nothing and no one.

And the world marched on.

We're fatalists, my people. Because we write our own stories. I think that's the reasons that the Lost Souls always wind up in Europe, it's impossible to understand the choices that your American self has made, until you can frame them in the intrigues and sugar spun fantasies that mark the trade in foreign places. In war you fight against your friends, and sometimes you don't even realize that you've thoroughly destroyed something beautiful until it's over.

"We have devoured the land and our animals eat up the wheat and cornfields close. All people retire before us and desolation is behind. To realise what war is, one should follow our tracks." -Sherman

In the end, I kept my promise. Out of every Army girl, every werewolf in training that the CIA had, I found the path through to the real problem- the key that could protect the American people- and I brought it back to him. They were writing about us, and publishing. Calling it a game and bending international law until it broke. They put the image of my boss on the front of a book, they'd grown so bold, showing that it was him they'd written about, and they'd written violent, vicious, scandalous things.

Things like that don't just get wiped away in American culture. So I went in to find answers. And I brought them to him. I think I might have been the only one who knew to look for the power behind those who were moving. They wrote about me too, from a different country this time- I'd laugh if it weren't another attack on our freedom. They might as well have signed the whole affair. They'll never conquer us, certainly not with pretty little lies and desecrations. When I knew that he was down I brought him the answers I'd found, and they followed. Cheap spies always do. Powerless people with titles.

In the Army, when you know you're pinned down you break free and try to hit a target- it's a little different from Marine Corps tactics, where you bunker down and hold. My boss was Army to the core. He used his favorite weapon, and he won. The people who thought they could break our freedom of speech died, and their entire country is collapsing with them. Not bad for an epithet.

I miss him so much I could cry. He's my dearly departed and I still turn around sometimes, wondering why it's been so long since I found a contract from him. He left them to me, every key I could memorize to his quarter of the railroad fortunes. I wasn't his one true love- I don't know if he ever found that, I'm glad I don't. Maybe his private life is still that, even I can't tell what I don't know.

I was his wife, and his hidden weapon. I was his assassin. And our enemies, the enemies of our country, burned in fires so hot they glowed black on the horizon before he died.

I wish they would have turned, fallen back. Changed. But I'm not him.
And I don't regret serving him.
The Wolf died.

Now I'm just Bint.

I love you A. Jindra. We won. If I believed you were in heaven I'd pray you'd hear me.
But you were never that way. And we loved you for it. I'll light a candle, if I can- because I know who holds your soul. And I'm still finding my way. 

Who do you tell a story no one would believe? I talk to the air. It listens better than most people. And I make sure it's about me. Because we're better than them. And every day Can be a trial, we're winning. they've already fallen. Our defenses are in place.

Hold. The worst is over. Hold and adapt. There are some amazing Americans out there, we just make sure you can't see us.

Previously in the Psychic Wars...

Saturday, February 3, 2018

Assassination 101

There's a certain amount of social maneuvering in any assassination. Even in a third world country, the populace needs to have their story, or else it will hit news reels in the wrong way. In a first world country it's safest- they require the most explanation.

During the war there was a lot of joy and pain, sunshine and rain. People made stupid decisions, and quite a few of them will walk away from those. My life wasn't quite so easy. See, the US of A doesn't have assassins, or a licensing program, but it Did have The Program- that they still aren't Quite ready to talk about openly.

Ironically, that's armor. By now you should get that that's a metaphor. Since these stupid assholes (you know who you are) parked my ass in the suburbs where I've been patiently waiting an exit I've done three things.

1) I've made sure to fight on the correct side of the law, every step of the way. My record is so clean it squeaks- and that includes sticking to American morals like a burr on a sheep. That part was a pleasure.

2) I've made sure to stay on the radar, which was a neat balance of educating the populace and entertaining them, without ever openly crossing intelligence. I got some good advice off the drop when I saw this go down. And Italian American told me, sweetheart, it's hell to have people notice you, but we call it keeping the lights on. He wasn't wrong.

3) I've made sure that I was right. Suburb right. That was more painful than being noticed. It goes against all of your training because you have to open your mouth, even if you don't speak openly. Thankfully, and ironically, a Norwegian gave me some equally good advice and the American Army backed him. The said go back to school, for communication. And I did. It gave me a platform to work from.

So why am I not dead when no less that three teams of assassins have come after me, and attempted to shape public opinion against me so that I could disappear (or show up dead) and no one would talk? I stayed true to my country (duh), I stayed in public areas (duh), and I took the time out to explain, every time. My country doesn't love me, but they do understand me- maybe better than any other black operative- and for us that's as good as it gets.

For all your flash, can you say the same? Because I'm still right here, on my mark.

Previously in the Psychic Wars...

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Life, without Context, is Madness

Or maybe life is just madness. We've experience attrition on an appalling level, and psychics are trying to make direct connects- without internet, books, and videogames. I frequently used the middle medium when I was younger, which is what brings me to an interesting conclusion. When a psychic attempts to contact you without any context whatsoever, how does it manifest? How is it, that while I was reading, I reached (according to intelligence) over a hundred psychics at once, every time. And our cadences matched? Thankfully some of my tutors were Japanese, and we tend to follow the paths that our training lays out- so I studied IRL. When you sign read, you're incorporating the in between and the messages that psychics nurture there, into your understanding.

Now everything is forced, and some of us are seeing rifts in reality. If you don't have a solid grounding in mythology, you might go insane. Especially when a particularly well trained telepath decides that everything is science, and doesn't get that the other side of quantum physics is literally magic- energy in motion.

I'm American so, socially, everything is an imposition. If you're experiencing any sort of social unrest, direct intervention against any party of authority is considered violent action- even a head of household. For me, this whole sordid affair has been fairly straightforward. As a result it's only recently occurred to me that, while we can surf even radio signals to communicate, what we're observing gives us context, and a lot of hostile action may have been unintentional.

Of course, a lot of it was intentional. We broke free from the monarch system by 1800, so the concept of a figure of authority having any pull in a free American's life is foreign and dangerous to our culture. When nobility from one side of the Earth was attempting to talk to people on the other, well- let's just say they should have stuck to the mail. There aren't a lot of them left in one piece.

You don't just Order Americans to do things en masse so that other countries can understand. We have some very specific cultural relations with Russia to avoid that exact possibility. They hack our government secrets, our agents attempt to get their porn. Espionage at it's finest, anything outside of these guidelines is anathema to us.

Unfortunately the Western rubric for wars is four years and we're a year past that mark. The Bush's attempted to hold the line for Afghanistan, but America finally caved a couple years back and admitted that we're no longer at war. It's comforting, as it would make Trump Commander in Chief. They should really include military training in the presidency.

Of course they should include mythology in art and psychology in english... but the school systems won't get that overhaul. It's why I'm a Reverend- sometimes you can do so much more through the church than the government.

Either way, it's going to pot for a while. But we're a little more flexible, since declaring war is now passe. We just deploy troops. Other nations are sure the war is over. We're doing what we can and insisting it never happened, specifically to mess with their squirrely little minds. Our military psychic program is incredible and we defended America while putting our soldiers through basic as fast as we could. As a result no foreign psychics contacted American military. To them, our military Just showed up.

Of course, in the interim- since nobody fucking listens to us, our entire telecommunications system got wired like a bomb by Mulsim terrorists. The programming routes signals en masse according to the commands keyed in at call centers. It's like a self perpetuating bomb with a wonky switch- office politics, plus or minus what outside parties can get to. You don't want to know what a concentrated cellular switch (or other telecom signal) does to a psychic, let alone a population. We're basically ignoring it because we went through the hell of it getting put it and the DoD shoved it's head up its ass on us. We can't survive fixing it- we botched what we could- it's not like we fucking programmed it. So we just do other shit, we're not paid by the military or telecom and we can't get to it. The Brits have a military term called fuck all. We avoid that one.

I, personally, am waiting for the American Army to be the American Army and just randomly Nom anything within reach, meeting demands for an explanation with stunning rhetoric like "I'm a Marine." In the interim I'm doing my best to catch up on what other nations are thinking, Europe requires significantly more needless explanation than American politics, so I'm honing my skills of useless and intricate conversation on the Canadians. We're terrible to them, but we let them say that they're awful to us instead. It makes them happy. Sitting at an exact forty five degree from our polarized populous's position doesn't help any. I think I'm getting good at this.

Peace time, here I come...

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

They are All, so Beautiful (the Psychic Wars)

We received an extraordinarily strange Go Sign recently. Granted these are extraordinary times and I knew, myself, that the second I moved openly I would never get my life back. I knew that I'd be watched, that I was entering the world of intelligence, and that the opportunity to go back to sleep, even for one solitary day, was gone. I think that's just occurring to the others- the other psychics. We have access to intelligence, and the fact that we've served the military for years, treating them like our brothers, isn't going to get us a free pass.

We'll fight against interference, although by now the thought fills me with a strange sort of apprehension. Do I know to begin immediately? Yes, I've never stopped. I know damn well that once someone violates your rights it's an uphill battle against the mob to get them back. None of this is a game to us, to the ones who will make it out and retain our freedom. Hunger Games wasn't far off. We have plenty of people who will organize, pass messages, and raise public awareness. But in the end, those of us who excel in shaping public opinion and removing obstacles will be the ones who shoulder the majority of the burden. How much we're willing to do for the others who are, essentially, chewing cud is dictated- for me- by my paycheck.

They look down on the fact that I'm a mercenary, but I know when to stop. I know that the second Anything starts to impact my finances the mob will turn, and there are so few of us, now, who will fight for the right to remain free- and so many who will take any bargain to make it stop- that we'll lose every time we fight while losing ground, financially.

Since so many people are confused I'll republish the two handbooks that got our soldiers through the worst of the Wars.I keep getting asked moral questions and I'm no longer answering them, anyone who approaches me is viewed as a nuisance and it pretty much goes downhill from there. So here it all is, tidily, electronically- presumably without violating my rights to privacy.

Previously in the Psychic Wars...

Saturday, January 20, 2018

My life is made of Glass Dutch Doors (the Psychics Wars)

I'm waiting on my last mark to make it to England. They've been sending in people to try and help, to try and trip me up. I'd be embarrassed that I was made so thoroughly, but I got completely disgusted with every aspect of every level of the social system that I started keeping a blog, a twitter and mouthing off at people like... intelligence... so it was to be expected.

On the upside these people might have some training in spycraft, but they can't tell their ass from a hand grenade when it comes to maneuvering when on a mission (or when it comes to population control at all, barring the magic bullet that the media handed to the top), so all sorts of amusing things are happening. Like I was told I SHOULD be off to England - out loud- for the first time. Open encouragement to move to my next base of operations. I'm still like... weeping.

I was also given a sacrificial Canadian. That's what I call him.

After the bit in New York City they put me into psychic therapy (we don't even want to TALK about the times people found a quarter of my records and three quarters of the stories that my friends told about Themselves, and the reactions they had- the results There were generally at least mildly amusing, NYC was something else) which is a new one. Since I refused every psychic contract and contact that they put out there (some were annoying, some were messy), they staked one of the Canadians out across the border with a sign and some ritual claptrap. I misted up laughing.

He's adorable and I think I'll keep him- I named him Adjadimo, crazy native squirrel. I think Their life cycles are about four, five years, and that how long I give him as an agent. He reeks of suburbs. I'm trying to come up with a nickname, something shorter than his native American Spirit Name, so that I can bring him onto the storylines, but I am literally laughing so hard that it's hard to think. If you think we're terrible to Normals, it's really only due to the military nature of our culture. Soldiers understand how we think- trust me.

The first thing he tried to do was make up to me. I'm over a decade older and married. Some day (if you're not already laughing) you'll be old enough to realize the level of amusement you have to mask in your adage when things like this happen. For starters I'm sure he'd kill me if the stars were right, for follow up , I could take him with a broken hand, foot, and shoulder. I know when someone's trying to get inside my guard. I invite them for a coffee. It's never failed (they never show- but they try again somewhere else- can't pull of a conversation in public without the whole city having an idea what they're really after- the population Can be helpful... psychics just don't realize that).

Mind you, I pulled his record and he's damn good- quiet and listens to his elders- always watch for that. For starters it means they have some self control. For second they get a mess of wisdom that mouthy ones miss. I think I'll go find some impressionable Canadian children to hug and advise in this hard time, to improve the population's general situation of course, so I can get a bead on what's going on.

There's a story somewhere on this kid, and I -being me- am going to find it. It similar to what he's going for... right?

Previously in the Psychic Wars...

Time Never Does Stop... Its a Person's Experience...

Monday, January 15, 2018

In England the Kitchen's on the Ceiling (the Psychic Wars)

In England the Kitchen's on the Ceiling, and the Couch is on the floor.

Different cultures see things differently- quite literally sometimes. I spent twenty years explaining to the Italians that they need to stop moving the door while I'm at work. I don't think they ever understood me. Of course, I never told them in Italian. I have a deal with the Italians, whatever emotion they have when they show up- that's what we fight about. It's cliched, but that works for me. Maybe that's why no one understands psychics at all, or the world around them. If they minded their business they'd still have some. Now they've got neither.

In England it's all about the couches- it's all they have left on the floor. I still hold that's their fault for picking the hatter- it doesn't pay to ignore your psychics. It could be worse, in Japan the buildings are moving (the buiilllldings, just got that- maybe there's something to puns after all- that or England's culture is just really old and there's a reason we always always laugh when Grandpa does). They outsourced when it hit the fan. Never ask another culture to try and fix your infrastructure- it's just too old. Tops, and I'm talking tops, you adopt a methodology. Fostering has always worked for the West.

I'm just talking about fun time (with the moving buildings and migrating kitchens), of course. Ze Germans call it making Ze Popcorn. That's what it looks, to someone who's watching from a good vantage point. You shoot straight up, drop down, then start popping off of just about everything. It's because you're not anchored to any sort of word markers in any sort of sensible way. Curiouser and curiouser.

Of course fun time leaves its mark now, and sometimes it also leaves behind chunks of reality. We don't have any dining sets that have stayed upside down IRL just yet, but I feel good about the future- the proletariat continues to wow us.

The short version of this being that I've put both Danno and my son on a steady diet of English- the study of course, not the peoples, and I'm trying to get the old art and music machine fired back up to calm down international relations, not to mention consensual reality. Physical metaphor, whether visual or auditory, is the easiest to digest. I'll have to check around for museum dates so I can share those too.

There's a reason they let the Lost Souls wander around Europe. Believe it or not Americans are fixers, and this wouldn't be the first time we've patched up cultures after war. It's one of the reasons we're so diverse, part of the America Project. I've found concrete interaction is best. I'm old fashioned like that. We'll see what works...

(Previously in the Psychic Wars...)