Blunderland

Feb. 8th, 2017 04:57 pm
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
It had only been two months and already things were taking shape. For the most part, Fred understood what had happened to him. It was just a few lapses in memory that plagued his conscious. He had stumbled out of some military experiment and then blindly stumbled right back into it... only this time, this time he was aware of it.

Angela had been very accommodating to his basic needs. Food, water, shelter, toilet and shower. Oh and hot water... hot water was a godsend. She had filled him in the best she could. Although her condition was fragile at best, his presence was reassuring to her and hers to his. And over the course of time Fred noticed marked improvements in Angela's mental stability. Her face was less in a state of bewilderment than it was in a state of present-tense. Fred had listened intently as she spout off her recent life shenanigans. If he ever loved her in a past life, he was unsure. He was sure that within the span of eight weeks it was nearly impossible not to love her. She was a true sweetheart. She was accepting and gracious. She was kind and fierce all at once. She was so innocent and yet simultaneously guilty. Guilty of what? He was unsure but he knew she had blood on those hands and stains on her soul. He felt for her as he did for any child. Love. Unconditionally. He knew she was trying... and that is all that mattered. She had the desire to change for the better. That was all it took.

Unfortunately the living situation was rather cramped. This occasionally lead to a few spats but nothing so serious as to create a permanent friction. Fred was glad he had jotted his password to his interface underneath his laptop... actually a dumb move but not in this particular instance. It was the only way he could access his network, more importantly his memories. He didn't know who had updated the network browsers with a feature that remembered passwords and usernames... but he thanked God they had. Otherwise he'd of never gained access.

The bookmarks where enough to get his head jumpstarted. Topics of all sorts, leads, contacts, notes, and numbers. All of them a bread trail leading through the woods. The only question on his mind was which way to go? One way might lead him out of the woods, the other only deeper into the thickets. It came down to a matter of intuition. It only took him two days to pick up where he had left off before the... "incident". Within 48 hours of reclaiming his laptop he had backtracked and hacked those who had "hacked" him. He had an open backdoor within a few swipes of the keys. They were not aware of him at first. Not until he had intentionally made his presence known. He knew that'd send their computations into "anomaly" mode. Hacking the military is no quaint matter. Especially when society had labeled you a "nobody", a "drop out". Hacking the military and not being arrested? That was a trait that legends are made of.

He scrolled through the network. The overview of the systems codes and security seemed standard and easy enough to manage... in fact he remembered he had done similar work for years... except this network was different. It was a multilateral effort and designed concisely. Between finite field computations, digital signatures schemes, mobile agent security and public key cryptography, he realised the depths of the servers capabilities. Nothing much really. Standard data actually. But Fred knew that's why he was here, in this moment. The probability generators had it all mapped out... except for him. He was a paradoxical anomaly that all the eggheads had been waiting on. The probability that wasn't computed. The probability that was NOT PROBABLE.

The more he tried to think of his motive or his intent, the more he kept drawing blanks. There was no preordained plan. It just was what it is.

"How odd" he thought.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
With a final trust and heave, he laid back down, letting go a sigh of relief. "Aaah"

Just as sleep began creeping in, a flash of light illuminated the room. His eyes fluttered, almost expecting a portal to some parallel dimension had opened in his room. Yet it was nothing so grandiose; it was simply his cell phone lighting up the dark room of the ward.

With a quick glance, so as not to burn his eyes, he read the text. Closing his eyes again, he started to drift. With a sudden burst he began laughing. Not just a standard giggle, it was a full on belly laugh. He sat upright, swinging his legs to the floor. He clicked the phone back on.

"It's about time" he chuckled under his breath.

The text was from an unknown person. But he knew she was coming.

'But I was here before time"

She was a trained and skilled assassin; and he knew it. She had to be spec-ops just to track him thus far. He might as well see if she'd like lunch, or a tea perhaps? If he wasn't walking dead already, what could it hurt?

"Wow" he mused. "They pulled out the big guns". Swiping the phone back on, he texted the unknown woman back.

"Look who's behind the power curve 8 hours late! Been waiting on you. When and where"? he put the phone down on the bed. He stood rifling through the ward room closet. Luckily his clothes were there, freshly cleaned and pressed. He quickly got dressed. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he proceeded planning his escape from the ward. He had a lot of work to do.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
All they speak has already been spoken
and no matter what channel, the radio seems broken.

You got a drummer, a guitarist, a bassist and a singer
posing like a band but more like left-wingers.

Pulpit-eers on a track preaching apostasy
leaves a bad taste in my brain, need a new recipe.

Acting like a band in this musical panorama
but the more I listen all I can hear is propaganda.

Regurgitating a script from within the conspiracy-
I take it all in.... and heckle the parody.
There you are pretending to be musicians
leading your fans into social indecisions.
And proselytizing for false religion,
herding them into moral contradictions.

Perpetuating as a band but more like right-wingers.
With tendencies for evangelizing for the Light Bringer!

Lock & Load. Time to Kill the Pop-Radio!
Don't want to hear it nomore!

From San Francisco to Portugal.

(Lock & Load) Time to kill the Pop-Radio

From Moscow to Mexico:

(Lock & Load) Time to kill the Pop-Radio

From Glasgow to Tokyo:

(Lock & Load) Time to kill the Pop-Radio
Don't want to hear it nomore!

(written 01/01/2017)
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017 Proved to be a right of passage. The Golden Dimensionals notwithstanding.

Through trials and tribulations, not to mention a few bruises and a dislocated toe, this man has come through a paradoxical state of time loops into a new state of consciousness. A consciousness concerning the nature of what "is". Yet pushing the boundaries of what "is" proves the sum of reality even more unfathomable than what "was'.

Somehow this is not discouraging; despite fears for ones own safety, this only stirs the depths of one's nature and re enforces concepts of previously disregarded notions of synchronicities and a divine cosmos.

Although the machinations of men are always disconcerting when contemplating a zen like wake of passage, this one finds solace in knowing that no matter a persons status or background, those with acute minds and hearts unfrozen, are all still searching for the same purpose of meaning. We are all lost children in the world inherited. Constantly, we are observing the horizon in a zeal soaked faith of what mysteries tomorrow shall bring. Enlightenment as it taught in the far East.

Even though it is a light this one seeks, I seek not the bearer of such a light. I search for the source of all light; not one who might carry or imitate it.

The Source.

Through this one's eyes, the quagmire of sparks and flits of light cast many shadows. For what good is light without the dark? What would dark conceal without the light?

It is here that one overstands the nature of the game. For it is a game, is it not? A perpetual dance of electrons and protons, in constant opposition to effect not only change, but balance? One did not understand a famous line from a famous religious text for several decades:

"Love thy Enemy".

Now one begins to love not just illumination, one begins to love the other 180 degrees of separation. Seeing the whole as a grand clockwork of perfectly timed precision. All energies of the aether are sacred in their geometry. Either in the multiverse or the innerverse (soul). So to you: I salute. Both you of dark & light. Salute.

Hark! A third eye has risen.

Profile

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Hextraterrestrial

May 2017

S M T W T F S
 1 2 3456
78910111213
14 151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 24th, 2017 10:29 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios