Deep Kalahari back in the day.

Desert environments distill time and allow for undiluted thought processes , its also a place one can test to see how tough one really is. absolutely no city pollution static to interfere with ones thinking.

The Kalahari desert is a very special place and if you have the opportunity to go, the intensity of the place for me is absolute food for the soul. To my mind its as Africa wild as one can safely go now days.

Many, many years ago before all the rules started accompanying every trip to the hinterlands of Africa. And abit before things like game parks formally existed to contain the very wild places. I went on an excursion with a Zambian copper miners son and an ex Rhodesian. I am a Capetonian or what is called a Kaapenaar, so the "bush" isnt an environment i am really familiar with or comfortable in. Put me on the sea and im home - Put me in the bush and im suddenly very respectful of every single small noise i hear. What with lions and other serious wild animals around - The deep bush is not for the feint of heart. Its definitely not a place to venture in with 2 old timers who are scared of absolutely nothing the bush can throw at one. We did have Cliff Richards greatest hits keeping us company, summer holiday style - need i say more.

We drove 300km deep into the "bush" the area we transgressed was to my mind over predatised and along the single dirt track we traveled was plenty of lion spore. The occasional cheetah spore and plenty of game tracks. Cheetah spore is amazing as the cat claws do not retract - giving the cheetah sprinters spikes whilst chasing down springbok. So its easy enough to differentiate from other cat spore.

The reality with the lions within a desert environment - You see their tracks but you rarely see them - They are super stealthy and brilliant at keeping hidden.

For this excursion i brought along my little 2 man pap tent which was a miserable excuse for a tent really - Made in a far off land for children to put up in the back yard. Not for the raw Africa savanah desert bush at all. Which really requires a proper canvas fabric tent - Not the pathetic tent i brought into these "can be" unforgiving lands.

So that night we found our spot to camp near a waterhole and had a lekker braai. A couple of whiskeys and enjoyed the night time sounds and green eye torch show that only Africa can dish up. The hyenas where fairly well behaved - however im not scared of these creatures of the night. Its the lion that leaves me completely cold. It was full moon and i got to sleep around 9pm in the tent designed for keeping the mist from your face. Anything other than mist and the tent is completely useless. Infact i was a little scared to even break wind in fear the tent would immediately be whisked away into the deep night.

It was then the car was started and the one Africa bush maestro headed out with the only vehicle for miles around. To sleep under the stars far away from the paper thin tent and its 2 occupants. The Zambian wasn't perturbed and started snoring immediately - I was extremely  fortunate to get to sleep fairly easily and was out until 3am. I was suddenly woken by the urge to go to the loo. Fortunately the minor of the 2 options. I was also awoken by lions making a sounds that i couldn't attempt to even explain. A sound like many deep resonating instruments playing over each other. It was a low rumbling type roar - it was an extremely deep growl that came out like a oooOOOOOOWAH  sound. Deep ominous and completely and utterly frightening.  I lay awake for half an hour listening to the noise of the lions around the tent - im not sure how close they where as water tends to bounce sound over it. But it sounded like they where exactly right next to me. I lay their completely frozen - and it was then i realized something i never thought possible. Why exactly these cunning predatory creatures emit that exact sound. Its a sound that the base of which comes up through the ground and hits you exactly in the stomach. Then because the sound is so completely frightening your stomach and its contents becomes a massive liquid issue. Now fear and bravery are very strange things. Your fear leads you to the point you desperately need the loo - Whilst your bravery is linked to how urgently you need to go. So at a point in this cacophony of lion sound i charged off from the safety of the paper thin tent and  into the night. To answer natures call. Nope it wasnt the lions i was answering. How i did not get eaten is a mystery only Africa can explain. As the next day we saw lion spore all around the paper thin tent and a big young male lion made his way into the veld close by our camp very early the next morning. Out of msnners i went a considerable distance from the tent. So again im not sure why i was not on the menu is surprising. 

Africa in its raw undiluted form is incredible - However from then on i didnt go further than 1m from the vehicle - The little metal cubicle of safety. Now i am braver in the bush now days but i made 1 important bush resolution - I would never ever go into the deep bush again in someone elses vehicle - I would only go into the bush if i was driving and only in my own transport. With people who have a respect for fear. Ive had some other incredible experiences in the bush. Im still a Kapenaar. In other words nowhere near to being a seasoned bush operative. But i really do love the Africa wild and its raw fear it can impose. 

Full circle wildetect style (whisper writing)

Haven't really posted anything on this blog this year - Not that i haven't been really super busy - Its just Ive been busy saying it in other arenas of my life. 

Introspective reflective is a thing,  i think, the thought of  the mouth whispering into the darkness and wondering if the ear is listening? 

I have seen many rather eccentric people speaking to themselves on the road of life lately - Whether i am present or not doesn't stop them from having intense conversations to the ghosts of their past. They don't need my or any one elses ear - they need to simply get whats in their head,  past their mouth,  to empty out the crowded space within their minds. That's exactly like how i see my blog, for me really,  not for the odd person who might stumble on whats written here.

To conceptualize a futuristic creative idea is the unicorn of thought to my mind - Ones focus blurred as you look through the ether and the limited telescopic lens. Is it so important to imagine a future artistic aesthetic? - Not like a sage looks into the future but from a,  "what will artistic expression be like in the future or what will our building aesthetic move towards"  - I used to think this was very important and it surely is on some level,  however i see now being present in the moment,  is far more powerful.

Architecture is sculpture and to my mind the more dramatic the perceived movement in the sculpture, the more visually appealing the static end product. Perceived kinetic architecture (wildetect PKA) this concept has long been an experimented wildetect ideal for me. To go full circle on any journey is always an interesting trip, sometimes it can be a very, very sad one.

A friend of mine, who used to capture hunting moments for men with very big guns and very small brains and even smaller unmentionables.  Told me a very sad story once. The kind of African tale one hears far, far to often now days. Africa's highways and byways are full of ancient wisdom, some of this wisdom is sadly not learnt by the participants in the tales told and past down.

Many years back on his very last such filming contract. He filmed a crew of foreign hunters who where trying to  hunt a magnificent bull elephant, in a remote part of the African wilderness. The type of little men or surprisingly now woman,, who feed the complete lie that one takes on the spirit energy of what one kills. Youve all seen the photos of these idiots ghoulishly smirking over the lifeless remains of their latest bloody conquest. Wanting so desparately for you to now believe they are a lion or a mighty elephant or a very rare panther.

This bull elephant , a magnificent creature led them for several days through the deepest African terrain. Always out witting, out smarting and out playing the tiny single minded ambitions of the pursuing gaggle of less than human creatures.  Then rather suddenly , at some point during the long exhausting chase, this magnificent creature, determined as it was,  just started heading to the exact spot that they first encountered him. He had led them full circle for many, many miles and days - This wise, now very tired of being chased, old african creature might have realized in this simple statement. That he was making, that he had chosen to take a stand where he first encountered this determined viral threat. He realised he had no other option from this virulent cancer on his six. These minuscule minded, frothing merciless trophey hunters, sadly didn't feel a reprieve might have been in order for this intelligent gesture. They used their off shelf, mighty little weapons on a less than human endeavor and blasted the creature to kingdom come. As this incredible creature in a sad undignified way vacated all its systems, due to absolute fear of earths immediate future. A future from imbecilic man, who sadly it appears is now, it seems in full control of butchering everything. My friend silently put down his camera and walked away, this was not chivelry, bravery, this was merciless small minded blood lust. He decided to partake no longer in such a display of false unintelligent merciless bravado. The 30 pieces of silver vomited out by these creatures was worth nothing.

My point is that full circle is something nature is aware of and needs to be explored more by those amongst us who deeply care. When one finds full circle moments within oneself - its a good thing at that point to stop and smell the roses. Sadly for this magnificent elephant,  his magnificent journey ended in a very remote part of the world, But the shadow he cast and the lesson he gave,  can live on for those sensitive few amongst us - yes, you know who you are.

Trying to catch a synaptic creative design thought in the realm of architectural reality, through sculptural inference is a challenge. Below  is an example of a sculptural design taking into account perceived kinetic architectural ideals  - Looking to build this architectural creation at some point. A part of the cresting wave moves back to take care of an incredible view of nature. But solitude and privacy within the space is also an important view - a view into oneself,  from which you can awaken, full circle.

so my ear, have you been listening to what my mouth has just whispered?

The haircut adventure

 Well do i have a story to tell.

😳 

So needing a very urgent haircut last Monday, I go do my usual pilgimage into the deep morass of Morrocan, Albanian, Algerian, Pakistan and eastern block men's hairdressers that are now popping up all over Cape Town. 

These mostly Arabic speaking Edward scissor hands specialists  can wield a blade with the expertise of a skywalker jedi ninja. They also have no problem squeezing, wiping, picking, dabbing anything on your person that looks remotely krappable, squeezable or pickable.

At first its a little surprising when the hairdresser suddenly without warning turns into pim pimple popper mode, then triumphantly wipes your extracted person on the back of his hand. With a stamp of the foot, clip of the heals and a sound , i can only describe as an,  "ole." The first time it happened to me,  I felt it was theft but I'm now immune to the scrutiny of these master buttlers in the arts of mens care and specialised grooming. 

I can only imagine if they tried that stunt on a woman!!! It's no wonder certain cultures cover themselves from head to toe. These guys who are so passionate about there trade, must find it difficult to sit back when there's a ripe ol plumb at the end of a nose,  rich for the slaughter.

But even this last trip into Zekrappables lair, on main road Muizenberg,  left me completely and utterly surprised. 

As I walk in, my assigned hair specialist is lounging on  to me, what  looked like a Bazantyme type style couch. The music Is a soft eastern type vibe.  and the men's hair products are nothing I recognize or have ever even seen before.   

I sit on what I can only describe as an old school barbers chair. And expertly dropped over me, a black silk type sheet with a very boho beatnik bohemian bearded dude decal on the front.

The feeling of Hippy safe creeps over me, in an eastern type setting. 

As I sat, I noticed the music, not unlike a snake Chalmers beat, changed ever so slightly. 

The haircutting dance had now begun and i was in the midst of the seven veils. I was ready to look good and to Kathak.  

Even The entire earth smelling hand, held tightly over my face and nose, to steady my head, was new. But that was tame for what was about to be unleashed on super non touching conservative ol me.

Because there was something on my person that had Been growing for 52 years without threat or fear. This was all about to dramatically change. 

The cutting was spectacular, like a bull fighter with a red flag, this gentlemen trained in the fine arts of hair cutting,  magically danced his magnificent hair cutting dance.  I was impressed, I thought a R10 tip was now on offer. As high as i go on a R60 haircut. 

Then suddenly the music changed, the chair seemingly  transformed into something i can only describe as medieval sorcerory. I was tilted back and I fearfully thought he had just spotted hair on my teeth. 

My hair specialist, who was speaking to another hair specialist,  behind a curtain in a language I could not understand. Then Gently tilted my head back by my nose and wildly exclaimed in an authoritarian tone. "HEIR" , yes you read right, I thought I was about to inherit Sinbads gold treasure.

Well out of the corner of my eye, my specialist had now darted off and was now doing a dance with fire and an earbud. A steaming earbud that looked like it was coated in brown sugar candy floss and spider web encrusted over hot steaming brown lava. 

He ran back to my arched back body and manuevred that piping hot earbud so far up my left nostril, I thought my eye was about to pop out. He then wiggled the hot goo around where only my own gentle finger had ever been before and he  pinched my nose and held it. Glaring at me like a mother hen about to pull rotten teeth from the village hobos mouth. 

I had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, I was also to scared to protest. I had just seen my hair specialist slice a hair from my head , with a blade so sharp it made an origami elephant. 

We sat staring at each other, me blinking and him tut tutting consolingly as he held my nose with fingers as strong as anaconda steel. 

The music was reaching its crescendo, the zennith of the eastern songs Mozart cannons moment. 

At an exact prescribed point in the music, the specialst ripped out the bud with such force my head jolted forward like a car crash victim. My eyes streaming with tears of pain. He then shows me proudly, the "HEIR". He then shows it behind the curtain to an exclaimed voice, that sounded like Ahab had just seen the white whale and then he indignantly throws it all into the dust bin like salt bae. 

At this point he starts to pick my nose vigorously of all its remnants of wax, hair, brain and snot that had not gone with the bud. The tears are now streaming down my face. All i thought was , the voice, the voice dont sob you big little blimmen baby.

I was now starting to realise what every human knows as a simple real fact. 

Good mother of pearl , i have another bloody nostril to get molested.  😳

Well he had already run off for another steaming hot bud, to load up full with the vile smelling steaming hot wax concoction. 

Fortunately the second time I was braced for the entire brutal manly man experience. 

In all fairness he did kindly show me my 52 years worth of nostril hair. He also dutifully showed the behind the curtain man and then he threw the harvest of hair indignantly into the bin Both times a peach. The second time, i shouted "ole" myself. Well not shouted really, whimpered it somewhere in my head.  I was so mad with the bezerker fire of you can violate my nostril, but you can never take away my freedom, im not sure of the timeline. Did william wallace even have nose hair?

He then started waxing up my left ear with the steaming hot goop and by now I was as tame as a lamb. 

At this point if he told me to strip, I might just of listened. The brutal rip off of the dried earwax reminded me of all the million plasters I so very carefully pulled off myself. Only this was how to do it , eastern Ferrari style. 

With the pain still swimming in my head, the humiliation of another man's brutal fingers right up my nose, I smilingly got up and went to the counter to pay.

He tells me R200 , which I immediately give him. I felt the R10 tip would be now excessive, considering the joy he derived from our time together.  I bid goodbye to him and the curtain voice man and I very scared shoulder toughly as you like,  strode out the shop into the now glaring light. 

The guy who just walked in audibly said, don't worry about waxing today, Thank you. I immediately took solice in knowing he had the same treatment once before, so he knew how to side step the newby boy violation hot wax. 

I did manage to quip over my shoulder some incoherent mumble, then laughed manically at my own jumbo and then sprinted like the blue blistering blazers down muizenberg main road. the smell of traffic, sea air and eastern mosiac registering deep up my nose.

Facialy as naked as I've ever been. Chris Rea, singing, new born eyes only cry with pain , at the first look at the morning sun. Obviously Never had a hot wax earbud shoved up his nose unsolicted. That song would have been a whole lot differently penned during the creative writing process, if he had. 

Well I've joined hairless anonymous, I'm coping day by day now. The crying in the shower has stopped and I have gone to the loo without my emotional support teddybear for the first time since monday. 

Well the good news is I've got 52 years until my next dance with what i assume to be a sheep shearers delight.  

I've now firmly decided to samson out the next 52 years. I know, I will be talked about in eastern hairdressers across the globe. But I reckon the smell of earth filled finger nostrils has an entirely different synaptic link to me now. 😳

I still wonder if being hairless in the nose, is as cool as letting it all just grows?

crab

They say watching the ocean for 7 minutes will realign your mind – I’m not sure if that’s true, but my reasons this day for staring at the dark grey deep, was not really about re-aligning my mind. It was an extremely heavy water winter cape storm day – the stretch of coast I had frantically decided upon was wild and very rugged – the kind of remote coast that one could very easily be disappeared.

I was watching a particular area of reef that appeared to be a malevolent cauldron of raw open ocean swell. Violently setting upon the shore, as if trying mightily to absolutely destroy every molecule of rock was its life’s only mission.

I was watching the ocean surge and gargle deeply as every new swell sucked the reef completely dry and then set upon the exposed rock with such ferocity once again the very ground, I was standing on would shudder.

I suddenly noticed a crab within this cauldron of very complex mayhem – it was making its way into the very heart of the oceanic nuclear explosion. The exact point of detonation that would render all living things utterly vaporized. With every swell washing over the bare rock, I would wait until the wild water would pull back and I would frantically search for the brave little creature in the midst of this extreme danger. I almost felt guilty that i was witnessing this don coyote moment, where the windmill was really a force 7 mutant hurricane.

The little crab seemed to survive several phenomenally intense barrages of the open ocean sea. However, the last time I ever saw the little creature alive, was a second of time frozen within my cranium. The creature seemed to stop and through the extreme mayhem happening round it, looked back at me with a conscious moment of complete clarity. I was very much on the safety of dry land; the little crab was frozen in its reality intensity of the extreme moment. For that brief split second, we were both very much alive. A much larger than usual wave surge impacted that exposed reef and I immediately knew the little crab had been completely obliterated.

I imagined tiny pincers, a carapace, stalk eyes, nails and flesh completely eviscerated by an extremely angry grey Atlantic ocean.

Many years after that exact moment, I was again reminded of that little  completely out of its depth crab – the mind is an interesting maze of accumulated information when one faces the inevitable. We pull from its mystery value only when we really need to rely on and understand its full circle of life meaning.

I had had an incredible meal – the steak I had ordered had come from the exact steak house I used to frequent many years previously. I acutely remember the after taste of the pepper sauce I so loved. If I closed my eyes, I could remember the minute detail of the roaring fireplace, The bar counter, even the route to the mens room through a maze of passages through a door next to the kitchen.

I found myself once again staring into what appeared to be, in this case a calm cruel Atlantic ocean surface.  As I stared into its mirrored surface, I noticed what can only be described as very angry condemnatory eyes, furiously staring back at me.

The pristine mirror surface showed a metal cranium cap, and I could not move an inch. However, it was the nature of the eyes through the veil that caught my full attention and for a brief second in time, I identified with the little completely vulnerable crab, who found itself in the now fully understood nuclear ocean zone.  As I was looking back at myself, looking at the tiny crab, in that split 7 seconds before complete mayhem overtook all my senses.

2024

This story is not about a place any where near to you, or even from a planet your vaguely familiar with. Its a story about a mythical land of many islands. On perhaps a soon to be discovered world planet far, far away. 

Who will discover this planet of water filled with many islands, you might wonder?  Well, to be honest, you will, of course. 

The scales might just fall off your fused eyes and you will suddenly for the very first time see this completely mythical secret land of islands in front of your vision. Perhaps through a telescope set up in your back yard. So your discovery would not be magically apparent like the kings new clothes, it will be more like the exact to the second moment 99% of Mr. Bernie's many wealthy clients, suddenly discovered the truth behind his incredible promise of immediate ponsi scheme wealth. 

This very far fetched mythical story I am about to tell goes like this. There once was an extremely vain ruler, of a vastly wealthy,  mineral rich island, on this mythical planet far, far away. He didn't really get to power with any major skills or wit, he couldn't really even count, not even just a little bit.  However what counted in this rulers favor was he did posses large amounts of cunning, so much cunning in fact, he boasted to himself, that nobody could ever fool him. Because he was far to cunningly clever by half. He felt by half because a whole would be far to conceited. He did after all have important humility standards that he lived by.

Anyway the ruler looked across the vast waters surrounding his island and noticed the vast wealth of the other islands around him. These other islands had immense wealth. Not mineral wealth in the ground like his own island because their islands did not sit amongst the vastly rich mineral geological veins, like his land. These other islands had every single other thing paper money and zeros on a screen could buy- immeasurable paper wealth, vast riches that only a fantastically vain ruler could use to elevate his immense vanity, beyond any planets simple measure. What they really touted above all the wealth, was a ticker tape parade, where an approved incredible ruler would ride down the middle of each adjoining islands main capitol street. While everyone clapped and fawned and praised him and threw little bits of paper from very high buildings down on the passing waving entourage. 

For such an extremely vain cunning ruler, this was incredibly the most desirable thing to ever be imagined and have happen. 

His desire for these festivities he beheld on the islands adjoining, became a very deep obsession. To obtain this ticker tape fame and wealth from these other rich islands, the ruler would even sell off the birth rights of his future grandchildren for a bowl of blood red earth soup. All his kingdom had, to his knowledge was roughed out minerals, deep in the ground, gold , diamonds and rubies and valuable items, lying on the surface of the ground and his island had rich arable soil for farming. Oh and it was situated in an incredible rain fall area. His single island could feed the entire chain of other islands many times over. If it was farmed correctly, but that was a conceited thought he felt for later. What the ruler also had, was vast man power, enough man power to completely dominate the unknown planet of islands far, far away. 

So the ruler decided to see how he could extract some of this incredible wealth from the united islands around him. So he approached the very secret, Planets Wealth Control Board. (PWCB) a very secretive board of wealthy non existent bankers. Who where the sons of the sons of the men who first secretly met many hundreds of years previously to create perceived wealth from nothing. They created a wealth platform linked to art, paper money, a fort of hinted gold and to bits of coin and zeros on computer screens. They carefully listened to the cunning rulers plea - they looked at what the cunning ruler was willing to put on the table. They secretly deliberated, whispering and snootily sneering over coffee passed through a cat. 

They sat in their secretly held meetings and held a few public conferences. They then thought it best to hold another important trade meeting, in a meeting hall on an island on the other side of the cunning rulers land. They even stopped over at the dead of night, to taste the soil with pinched lips and noses to the sky. The cunning ruler was getting very anxious and his fat fingers and bulging eyes along with 4 fat rolls of bulging skin at the back of his neck. Quivered in complete expectation of the vast wealth and the all important ticker tape parades, he now could very much see himself participating in. 

In his vision, he was dressed in a bright colorful suit on the back of a limo, driving down a famous neighboring island street, while everyone waved and nodded their heads and clapped, while small bits of shiny paper fell all around him. He was smiling and waving and he was so very, very happy. The absolute complete respect of all the faces. This idea showed him he was very important. It was all so palpable in his vision of the future. 

Eventually the PWCB got back to him - they said the taste of his soil and what he offered was not worth giving him the vast wealth they had and the very important ticker tape parade was immediately cancelled - his request was DENIED!!!

This infuriated the ruler that his eyes bulged and he immediately ate 21 plates of fatty red bloody soup, so that he developed a 5th fat role on the back of his neck. This 5th roll popped out above the other 4 rolls , on the part of the head where there is not even any lose skin. He was so very proud of this 5th role of head fat and he learnt to look at himself in the mirror, so he could see roll number 5. He very proudly watched how the 5th fat roll glistened in the light of the far off planets sun. He rubbed goat fat on the new roll.

He went back to the very secret PWCB and said,  my island has vast manpower, that I can give you. The PWCB said they will consider the new terms, but the manpower must be pushed from behind, not pulled from the front. So the ruler set about creating ungovernable areas of his island, where he didn't like the people anyway, areas which where once peaceful but suddenly over night became war torn and lawless. This started the displacement pushing of the manpower across the vast waters and the PWCB where now most happy. A manipulated cheap slave labor force to do the unimportant jobs on their important island.

Yes, because vastly wealthy islands could not be concerned about the business of mundane manual work. Vastly wealthy islands sought to rather busy themselves with the very important things in life. Important things like watching TV and making sure it was all based on real life. Everyone watched reality TV because it was more real than the crappy lives they led.

So the PWCB had additional secret meetings and a few seminars and one or 2 important emerging island embargoes. This time they invited the cunning ruler (CR) to sit outside the meeting hall, so they could deliberate some more. He was very chuffed and made sure he sat in the sun directly opposite the mirror and closest to the big door so his magnificence would not be missed or lost when they exited.

But nobody entered or left, accept a very small man came out of a very small secret side door of the meeting hall and beckoned the ruler around the corner. He whispered in hushed tones that they had agreed in secret that he could have his vast wealth of money and ticker tape parades. The little unassuming man asked the ruler if he had a computer linked to a bank account. The ruler did indeed have such a thing. The little man said the ruler must give him the number to his personal bank account. Which of course the cunning ruler immediately did. The little man further said the PWCB had no need for the money to be paid back in the same given cash transfer method in paper money and computer screen one and zeros. However the PWCB would only accept return payment in the very filthy dirty minerals that lay deep under the soil of the rulers island. The cunning ruler immediately agreed, all the while rubbing his fat fingered hands together and looking at himself in the reflection of the window. He noticed a rising bulging 6th fat roll on his neck in the reflection. Oh how proud he was of his amazing cunning ability and the beauty of his swelling large face. And all this for dirt and cheap labor, how foolish are these wealthy countries.

Oh yes, how cunning he was - to have got all this paper wealth and zeros on a computer screen for just stinky dirt - he signed all the documents and then asked when he could have his ticker tape parade? The little mans nose twitched and crinkled rodent like as he transferred the vast wealth into the computer account of the cunning ruler. The zeros where so many the first computer couldn't handle all the zeros and they had to get a million other computers to showcase all the remaining zeros.

The very cunning ruler went home with his vast wealth on his many new computers, now guarded heavily by his newly acquired PWCB police force. They started the digging process immediately on the cunning rulers island and made sure those who remained on the island , who hadn't yet swum over the sea, worked very hard for free by digging up all the minerals they could. The PWCB secretly over saw the entire operation and as the holes got deeper, nobody planted crops in the very rich soil, nobody farmed the rich island lands. Everybody just now dug holes and handed over minerals. If anyone complained, they where put under the soil that they had just been digging up. More and more people risked swimming over to all the other islands around. Risked sharks, risked trafficker's, risked death  to get away from the carefully crafted greed machine plundering the very depths of the cunning rulers island earth. 

The other islands said shame what a pitiful bunch are those from that poor island, the PWCB denied knowing who was responsible for digging up all the soil. Everyone just said shame, what a very sad potential island of poor people wanting jobs.  The cunning ruler got so fat his thirteenth fat roll burst on his head and he died of septicemia. The digging of the soil was given over to generation after generation, nobody even knew where the computers where. The computers with all the zeros on them. However what was visible was the holes that got much deeper, the man power fled in vast numbers and the islands around got upset because they where now becoming very crowded with people from the mineral rich island. 

Everyone on all the other islands just wanted the wealth of the paper money and all the zeros on the computer screens. Everyone it seemed wanted the ticker tape parade and the fame to be on real TV for 5 minutes. Biting, scratching and slurping fifteen minutes of fame, while walking around with beautiful bodies surgically enhanced to showcase the light of a thousand cameras. A type of divinewood smiles that didn't ever change, even when the fame hungry participants started to really cry for real. 

So the newly secretly elected PWCB built an invisible island far away from the rest of the other islands and then secretly released a viscous virus on the islands. One that would render a new world order and start a ground zero Adam and Eve scenario. With just selected genetics going forward because vast wealth paves the way for vast scientific advances. Carefully cherry picking the best brains, with the best physical attributes. The strange reality is that most of the PWCB where all very ugly inside and out. They only had cunning as an attribute. So good luck to that genetic strain of pure exclusive genetic raw material new empire builders.

Very fortunately for you , this is just a completely mythical story on a planet very far, far away 

Very fortunately the telescope your currently looking through, from the vantage point of your back garden and the scales fused on your eyes,  tell you this story is completely impossible to ever be true.

If your very small telescope could currently register that this story could possibly be much closer to home than one thinks. We all would be in a great deal of trouble, would you not think? 

Well not if your one of the few PWCB members secretly meeting in a trades embargo on a secretly developed island, with a very secret side door and a tiny little rodent like man to negotiate between the very greedy and the extremely cunning.

Im so glad i dont live on that made up planet. 

The Recognition of basic human dignity.

From time to time one has a conversation that keeps one thinking for a very, very long time, after the fact. Long before this covid19 scourge we are currently going through,  when one could actually shoot the breeze with complete strangers and occupy ones time getting to know people, without the threat of catching something airborne, deadly and ebola like. 

I was walking architectural building plans through the municipality to get stamps from each department, to eventually get final approval. The heritage department always has very interesting characters, who actually care enough about history to actively find a job that looks to preserve it. 

So it was on this particular day many, many years and moons ago - That I had just steamed through the land usage department and then flew through the zoning department. They then sent me to the heritage department on the 14th or 16th floor - I forget now which. Anyway it was one of those council rooms in the back and beyond of the municipality building, that one could sense slow history growing on the walls, on the desk and in every corner of the room. 

One would ring the bell and wait and eventually an enlightened heritage official would make their way to the front desk,  from a place beyond the publics scrutiny. It was the usual checking of the plans, the lowering of the glasses, the slow grind of work in visual motion. The position of things, the erf, the suburb - either you got sent back to zoning or through to another more complicated heritage department and process in a completely different building. 

For some reason when all was verified and found in order, the small talk led to the topic of "recognising basic human dignity." yes I know right - rather a BIG jump from "You been busy?' to such a meaty topic. But such is the organic nature of conversation - it can spark like wild fire in a million different very exciting directions. The real question is, do you have the time for the ensuing veldt fire?

Well this next story is possibly well known, possibly told differently, possibly nothing like i remember it 20 years down the line. however I'm remembering the tale told me, from many, many  years back, in a heritage department office. On a very slow day, when my mind was occupied with paying bills and trying to just survive life. Really much like me today really, right now. So the telling of this remembered story will have holes and I might even miss the original point completely. As I said , conversations that keep one thinking for years down the line, don't necessarily remain accurate to the telling, only really accurate to my perceived understanding, which granted might be limited. As say might with an internal burst of laughter. The inaudable type of laughter only i can hear, a sound as i get older im hearing alot.

Amongst the deep history photos and heritage items the professional behind the counter started setting the scene to what I found to be a great tale. In the interests of telling the story and not getting caught up in the current climate of political correctness, I'm deliberately just going to leave out every single name, place and any information that will spark a step left riot and then take the focus away from the crux of the tale. Which remember is, recognising basic human dignity. 

Many years ago a certain very famous world museum painstakingly was collecting and had collected much art and items of deep interest and many, many  objects from a very proud, grand and once greatly established cultural nation. A proud peoples who have been subsequently completely brutalised by the advent of a very greedy human driven new order. In the wake of such a long , over hundreds of years human decimation process, much important heritage history was at risk now of being lost and in much need of being painstakingly preserved. So this very famous museum stepped up to take on this very important and very expensive task of curatorship. 

Not sure if man preserves his history for the lesson of never wanting to repeat it or because he wants  to simply learn to improve his rape, plunder pillaging skills for the future - there is a difference you know. 

The museum spent many millions to preserve the objects in specially built glass cases, temperature specific and light deprived housings. The incredibly vast collection of items from this now compleyely decimated great cultural nation, was staggering and took much effort and many millions of dollars, pounds, yen to preserve on just a very minute daily basis.

The curator of the museum , a very enlightened great cultural nation heritage professional, who was deeply passionate about the preservation of this fascinating material was visited by the current chief of all the great nations, who's long heritage was now preserved in this great world heritage museum. 

Now this very old great chief , shuffled into the curators office , he couldn't speak a word of English , he was dressed in the mighty clothes of his great nations legacy - passed down from father to son, over many generations, its wear was old but still very powerful to the gaze. the curator was very tempted to try preserve the incredible history on display in front of him. But instinctively knew the difference between history and the powerful present. 

The great chief flanked by 2 of the great nations current strongest warriors, also dressed in the clothing that represented their deep heritage. Spoke in the language familiar to him and interpreted by one of the bright powerful young warriors. After an incredibly detailed very respectful interaction,  the great chief summed up what he was there for, he wanted to thank the curator for the incredible work he had done in preserving his nations artefacts. 

He also deeply thanked the museum for the incredible work it had done in preserving all this valuable heritage information of the great nations that had gone before. The great chief made it known that the great spirit that oversees the remaining members of his nation. who in a vision to him,  had told him to bring home all the items of his nation in the museum. So he wanted the curator to box the entire collection , stored in several massive museum buildings, under sensitive expensive conditions, to be ready for his collection. To be taken back to the vast plains of his peoples reservations, to be respectfully given back to the nations and to the earth that had been robbed of its incredible legacy.

The curator was completely astounded - he petitioned and implored and told the 3 nations representatives it was absolutely impossible - much would be lost in the process and it was completely foolish and would never ever be allowed. The great chief just respectfully stared and like all great men, made it clear , it was not open for negotiation.

The curator and the museum immediately solicited the countries best lawyers , employed the greatest legal minds and went into a court room battle over the validity of this completely outrageous claim. The museums legal bench was loaded with the greatest current minds they could afford. the type of minds that cost many millions just to get an opinion of a coffee brand from. The end result is always bitter to the taste.

On the day of the first court hearing the chief arrived with just his 2 warriors - he shuffled into the courtroom  and was very present with every facet of the unfolding proceedings. Through interpretation the court wrote down every word of this great old chief,  as he spoke in riddle and rhyme. And petitioned for the return of his nations deeply symbolic heritage.

The court case went right to the supreme court in the land over much time, costing many many millions in the process.  Eventually a very wise judge at the very end of a very long legal process concluded that all the artefacts indeed belonged to the great nation. And should be respectfully given back to them. so they can respect and honour their dead, their customs and their people. The full cost of the entire legal process was for the museum now to carry.

The museum was absolutely devastated, the curator was completely broken. The court set a day when the start of the handover would begin, when the chief with his entourage of many helpers would arrive to start the process of packing up, boxing and taking back their great nations heritage.

The designated court day eventually arrived and the chief stood in the exact same office he had occupied many months before - the same 2 warriors on either side of him. The now completely broken curator could hardly look up as he was devastated at his life's preservation work being completely destroyed. 

The chief started talking and the warrior interpreted the wise old mans words. The curator didn't really hear much, but he did notice that the chief had arrived with just the 2 warriors, as before. The curator didn't get much from the long detailed discussion but he did understand the chiefs very last few words.

"The museum can keep all the artefacts, exactly as they have done over the many years,  exactly in the current condition they reside in at present". 

At that the old chief turned to leave the small office,  the curator was incredulous - WHY!! why  did we just go through this incredibly expensive, time consuming process , if nothing was ever going to change? 

The chief,  through his interpreter said - "But things have changed! You now know that all these artefacts, belong to our great nation and not to you."

This powerful little tale , told to you from my memory of a conversation, in a very slow day heritage office, 20 years back, has got me thinking about what's happening right now as im locked in my house. The onlybfun is when a neighbor mad from the cabin fever, runs outside and the neighborhood curtain twitchers shame them. Oh how quickly we can become the tools of far more powerful minds than our own. 

Do not ever underestimate the recognition of peoples basic human dignity. And sometimes its just a simple perception and perspective change that's required. A healthy change of established thinking is more powerful than the actual moving around of structures, architecture and established precedents. 

I did leave that slow day heritage office with much to think about life, thanks Tim. I sincerely apologise if my telling of the story deviated or changed from your increfible version. But it was a conversation we had over 20yrs ago. One i have never forgotten. 

NDCP - a wildetect short story

The year is 2418 – 
man in his infinite wisdom has developed a Neural Didactic Conscience Processor. (NDCP) this in short allows scientists the means to determine the immediate emotional state and mindset of any given subject. Past generations of man practiced extreme segregation along racial, financial, class and religious lines.  However When man progressed to the point where all men were found to be absolutely  exactly the same and equal in physical merit and otherwise – it became necessary to segregate humanity along other more cranially stringent control lines. So the fervent need for an instrument to measure this difference in man’s intellectual and principally his emotional state was born.

Extremely clever scientists who believe we created and pulled ourselves out the quagmire of the nothing, nothing through billions of failed  and a few successful mutations started in earnest to explore this new measurement of emotional neural science exploration.  My very limited understanding of this new science is that The EQ, for want of a better understanding is different from IQ. And therefore needed its own accurate measuring process which is completely unique. The deduction was that people have various levels of emotional ability – ones conscience determines how far you will go to get what you desire. 

People prone to very extreme anti-social behaviour register very low on the NDCP unit of measure and those who are of a nurturing nature register very high. So the need to segregate these now obviously different types of people became very necessary.  This is not segregation along race, class or religious grounds – its segregation along the pure minds emotional ability. (Emotional apartheid was born by an elite group of neural scientists) a potential of what we would be capable of based on our emotional conscience levels. Scientists who developed the NDCP believe that one’s hardwiring cannot be altered – its nature and no amount of nurture would change the hardwiring. Therefore the need for immediate neural segregation was recommended and approved by the department of human evolutionary development. (HED) this In the absolute interests of creating a superior human design end product. Future generations of man will laud these incredible minds for the sacrifices they have made now.

This process of measuring ones mental state was meant to go way beyond just face value analysis – our hard wiring according to the scientists in this exclusive field, cannot allow one to become empathetic if you have a low NDCP reading – according to the developers of the NDCP is that people with a low NDCP value are able to do very well is easily mimic and manipulate those with a more emotionally present or who register with a high NDCP score. So the need to separate these 2 types of mindsets became incredibly important – so we have a very elitist set of emotionally specialized individuals who control the fate of those of us who are less in tune with our emotional intelligence. And because of that, potentially pose a threat to mankind.

The statistics show that in the high NDCP quadrant, murder and social delinquent behaviour is minimal. However in the Quadrant which measures very low NDCP rates – murder and social delinquent behaviour is extremely high. The 4 quadrants are broken down into

1)     1 very high NDCP levels. – 75% - 100%

2)     2 medium levels – 50% - 74%

3)     3 low levels – 25% - 49%

4)      4extremely low 0% - 24%

A level above you is able to transfer into your quadrant – however if you’re a level 4, then you’re absolutely not allowed to travel to any levels above your NDCP station.

I am a very low level 4 or what is called a 02four.

People prone to murder or violence are easily distinguished early using this NDCP measurement tool.  This allows an elite section of mankind’s society to live in a utopian environment, free from those of us who would pollute the very air they breathe. We live a dystopian existence.

Once it was determined I was a massive potential threat and delinquent to society, I was immediately removed from my high level NDCP mother and placed in the care of spiritual care minders.  SCM, These high level NDCP practitioners have sacrificed much to spend time within our midst, helping and caring for us extremely dangerous to society types. “The 02fours.”

Because we are extremely unpredictable, manipulative and dangerous we wear a shock suit straight jacket a S3J – and any amount of resistance we give, we are lightly reminded that we need to behave by the SCM taking care of us.

Because the SCM are capable of high levels of empathy, they are allowed to determine the level of shock to be administered. Their pure judgments and wonderful in site into what is fair is entirely at their discretion. Every now and again a more violent 02four will be found shocked beyond return – however it’s always been determined that it has been a malfunctioning s3j and not a SCM minder. – So far all of my s3j’s malfunction routinely. It’s flipping sore and extremely frustrating to get shocked beyond any normal levels of the pain threshold.

As a low level 02four I am branded bright red – it’s a process whereby my skin cells are colored a deep red – because it’s believed I cannot change from my hard wiring – it’s not necessary to worry about my natural appearance once this diagnosis is made. It’s done to make me obvious to anyone on a level above me. The SCM are assigned to see out my days in the most humane way possible – without me being a danger to myself and others higher up on the quadrant NDCP scale. The SCM also make sure i never see a reflection of myself as they are assigned to make sure i dont develop any narcissistic views of myself - nothing is reflective in my domain - just in case i get to see what i look like.

In infancy my cells are branded and once the unusual bright red colour is administered it is permanent. I cannot change it, even if I tried. We are not allowed to have any children our reproductive processors are removed and cauterized. , the idea is a brilliant scientific evolutionary one, whereby all traces of 02four’s will have disappeared in hundreds of years of selective breeding.  The notion of a process of failed mutation forward breeding program.

So I simply exist but have no legacy. I am 02four- 8626134111

The SCM are not allowed to get to close to us, as they are very empathetic, this is a big problem for them. Developing feelings and a relationship with us is forbidden.  So they are routinely rotated as minders.

What the SCM need to determine is how best to utilize our abilities – as we are not unintelligent we are just potentially dangerous. So our usage to quadrant 1 society is quickly established. I am a designer - I particularly enjoy the aesthetic nature of design. So my portfolio of activity is to beautify practically designed items. This I do 12 hours a day –

Over the last 2 years I am also afforded access to archive information and I am on a specialized program whereby I am given impregnated or fused knowledge from previous 02fours before me. Scientists have developed a procedure which transfers, what was previously lost knowledge and experience from others. It is a process whereby other people long dead’s life’s experience and knowledge is fused into a 02fours consciousness. Up until a few months ago I had 12 previous life experiences fused within my head. This conscious blending process is extremely dangerous and that is why only the 02fours are subjected to it for now. It’s a very volatile procedure and it’s highly illegal to experiment on levels 1, 2, and 3.

So although my current existence is terrible – I have the memories and life experiences of 12 other people fused into my collective sub conscious – it is through these memories and experiences that I really can live.

Some of these fellow 02fours life experiences come from before a time when the NDCP was fully formed. To travel down the worm hole of collective memory imagery is overwhelming – and controlling the extreme business of the added experiences is incredibly difficult. Many 02fours don’t handle the fusions very well. I for some reason am able to compartmentalize each experience and relive countless memories without crashing. For this I am uniquely gifted and have become an important SCM case study specimen.

As far as I am aware I have the most fusions embedded in my mind’s eye – 12 to be exact – my nearest rival for this title was 8 – sadly they didn’t make it to 9. I am rather a celebrity amongst the SCM. And they are fascinated to see how many more fusions I can take before becoming lobotomized like the 02four who got to 8 before me.  And to tell you the truth, so am i. Lobo is the minds state when fusion saturation is reached – the entire brain completely shuts down and its easier to euthanize than repair. This happens often and many 02fours have checked out early. I would say sadly – but it’s a gift to be freed from such extreme misery that I find myself in. my need to keep living outweighs for now my need to die. So I continue to fight for life even though I see no respite in the process.

A few months back I was fused with a professor Mankindle’s mind. Fusion number 13.  Although I don’t have his intelligence levels because that is hardwiring, all i have is flashing imagery and the warm emotional bits and pieces of his memory – his collective experience memories are valuable because I can gain insight into what he has seen and experienced. It wasn’t immediately apparent to me, whilst rummaging through the imagery of his mind but Prof Mankindle is somewhat unique to me – he was diagnosed very late in life as an extreme 02four. So he lived as a level 1 for most of his life. I am not sure if I was supposed to be fused with this information – but let’s just say Mankindle had some really vivid memories. The kind of experiences I could never have imagined given the current state I find myself in. as a bright red level 4, 02four.

Mankindle had many memories however the one he played over very strongly was incredibly distinct. he played it over many millions of times. It was a strange very sad memory.  i felt Mankindle’s every emotion within the memory  , every heart wrenching feeling,  so intensely,  it left me mortified for months – even now the vivid recollection leaves me completely paralyzed with emotion.

He was being dragged away from his home and his loved ones by 2 Wergstand operatives – back before the NDCP was fully operational – many 02fours where able to slip through the net and they ended up working as wergstand operatives – wergstand was the first task force employed by the scientists in charge of the NDCP program to exact there overall plan.  These 2 officers where extremely cruel and wicked men. I  got sight of the ones full face, it will now be forever etched into my memory – the other operative I only got to see his hands and a brief side profile. Thick black hair , beaked nose. Mankindles emotional loss and state become my nightmare to relive over and over again.  The men set Mankindles house on fire and left him with the notion that all his loved ones where dead. They made him suffer cruelly – the magnitude of this event haunted every memory I accessed.

This morning I was visited by an unusually aggressive SCM operative his label read John Gray 021. He looked surprisingly like one of the wergstand operatives in Mankindles memory, I had a distinct feeling when we met we knew each other somehow on some deeper level.  the SCM call this associated memory attachment – a common process of the mind to latch onto the tangible by making sense of the jumble of information from the fused persons mind. I was confusing my reality with Mankindles memories.  It seems Mankindle had information very important to further research and science.  I was supposed to uncover it with the help of this SCM wergstand operative. I smiled at myself because a little nugget of someone elses memory gave me a chance to hate with a face and a reason.  I’ve never really felt the need to be manipulative before, because I’ve never really been in a position to be. However I think it is my hard wiring as a 02four coming out –I felt an incredible urge to control this situation. Which is silly, if you think about it. A Bright red, level 4 , 02four – what chance do I have of bettering my circumstances?  I’m stuck within this incredibly well orchestrated NDCP machine trap.

It was interesting to me that this SCM was so incredibly aggressive, he was massively driven by something beyond what was normal.  – I didn’t think the SCM were capable of being anything other than completely fair and compassionate – I desperately wanted to believe that – it made sense to my entire existence. All the SCM’s I had worked with – where incredibly kind. And when punishment was administered,  I felt very sorry for them having to overstep their natural inclination of being warm and emotionally in tune. It seemed to cut them up deeply whilst I writhed around in complete pain. I felt sorry for them having to control me and stoop to such levels of degradation.

In some instances I would have preferred to administer the punishment to myself because it pained them so very much.

Mankindles mind was a treasure trove of information – each room and compartment I opened up led me round his life. These images where different to the 12 previous subjects as they all had similar experiences to me – so it wasn’t really exciting opening up doors that led to the same pain I was so familiar with.  These memories where deep and super charged. I was left feeling overwhelmed by emotions I had never really been allowed to explore. Part of the level 1 02four program is to be administered powerful drugs. – In this induced medicated state we are more easily handled and less of a threat to ourselves. However since being fused with these memories I find I am being less medicated.

 I am becoming more aware of the world around me. I stare at my familiar big hands in front of me for hours concentrating on what can only be a marvel of design. My bright red skin is extreme – however the mechanics of the skin and underlying muscle and bone is mesmerizing.

Unbeknownst to me  in the beginning – I was actually the only subject alive who could process information and memories from others through this fusion process. The level 1 SCM felt it very dangerous to let me know the power I had – as it would heighten my manipulative hard wiring. So I believed I was 1 of thousands who did this very important work.

I only became aware of the possibility I might be unique from the SCM, I named Bob1 – they  hated  us using their names as this would risk us getting to close and then we would be able to manipulate them – so inventing a name prevented us making things personal. he wasn’t as ethereal as his other level 1 SCM counterparts. He was extremely brash, aggressive and hostile – I felt he was more a level 4 like me – but I put that thought away as quickly as it entered my subconscious. That is unthinkable – a level 1 is like a level 4 was an completely unheard of thought.  Complete heresy of the extreme kind.

The fusion process being used was not an exact science – think of the brain as a sieve – one is blasted with a type of brain wavelength from the previous subject – and what filters through and what sticks is remembered by you but cannot be controlled. Sometimes the memories are clear – most times not. Nobody else could experience what I saw, so I had to communicate minutely what I was seeing to the SCM conducting the interrogation.  

Bob1 didn’t like me at all – I was extremely disgusting to him – he was the first SCM that made me feel this way – he kept asking for another subject and it was through this constant asking he let the big red cat out the bag. Their simply was no other 02fours or anyone else who could give him what he wanted. I was the only way he could get the information he so dearly needed.  It was then I immediately started playing with his mind. I became what I was told I was.

Bob1 smacked me when he could – it was absolutely forbidden to administer a direct physical punishment to an 02four. The violence of the attacks jarred my brain to the back of my skull and left me completely reeling. When bob1 was caught hitting me, It was the first time I witnessed a SCM disciplinary process. It was quick and immediate and bob1 was gone for several days. He came back and fitted me with the most powerful S3J known to man. The shocks administered would stop a bull in its tracks but somehow it made me very aware of being very much alive. I was becoming more and more in tune with my environment. The lack of drugs, the infused life experiences and the fact I was being exercised more made me very strong. I was actually getting excited about life and being alive. My mind was running on super charge – I was a level4 being allowed to run, trot gallop. This I felt could be very dangerous as I could do some damage. Not sure what really.

I limited what I told bob1 – he knew I was holding back information that I was experiencing – so he shocked me left, right and center. I could only smile because that was the only emotion one could display to a machine such as this. What I had been experiencing the last few nights was extremely powerful dreams – where I was Mankindle and seeing what he had experienced beyond experiences. I had seen him a few times in the mirror – however his features where strange to me. I was experiencing emotion – it was extremely powerful – his memories where forcing me to create synaptic emotional responses. Ones the drugs, abuse and extreme treatment had suppressed for so long.

As mentioned as a 02four all reproductive capabilities where extracted once the diagnosis was made. I was what can only be described as an ox. And in my mind I called myself the ox with no rocks. This was the only laughing I did, which was actually real, when I laughed at myself. What had I ever done to deserve this I kept asking.

Mankindle was a complex man – amazingly astute and incredibly inventive. Seeing his approach to things was incredible. Again I was merely an observer to a movie. I wasn’t able to be as clever as the actors – only see what the mind’s eye was playing. I then needed to relay these verbally to bob1. He was careful not to tell me what he actually was looking for – and took an approach of all clever men – to out manipulate the stupid red captive in the room. I felt it safer to play to his perception of me.

Bob1 might be a level 1 SCM – but he was not the sharpest tool in the shed – what he lacked in grey matter, he more than made up for in pure spite. Bob1 was a 02four masquerading as a level 1 – how was that even possible.

I was careful to observe – I also started making  stuff up – but bob1 was a clever SCM cat – he knew when I went off piste and shocked me back to the well run tracks of Mankindles mind slope. I just smiled – the broadest smile I could muster. This irritated bob1 no end – he preferred the subject to be slobbering on the ground all subservient. Bob1 would have killed me immediately – but he needed me and that’s what kept me alive. I was valuable to him at the moment.

I kept going through Mankindles memories and I always was stuck when reaching a door in a forest. I explained everything minutely – but I just could not open that door – I could see everything around it but open it I couldn’t.

It was after several weeks of bob1 metering out the most extreme treatment that I then met 02four – 54312063.

She was the first female 02four I had ever seen – she was bright blue – so the level 4 men are bright red and level 4 woman bright blue – this was amusing to me – but I soon stopped laughing because bob1 had other ideas. For some reason the SCM’s felt by combining the efforts we would get past the door in the forest. Unbeknownst at the time to me blue as I referred to her had several important people in Mankindles life fused within her conscience. It was his wife, his daughter and his mother. For a red like me and being allowed to be in such close proximity to this many woman – was unfathomable. Completely out of the ordinary. Highly unusual.

We were put into an induced coma which allowed our brain waves to align – this is how I understood the process.

In this state what happened almost instantaneously is the ability red and blue could communicate without anyone knowing what we were saying. Sure the brainwave charts went off the scale – but we were in a catatonic state. However for some reason we were both standing at the door looking at each other. Not as red and blue but as Mankindle and his wife.

We simply stepped through the door and this is where it became very interesting. Upon going through the door – we shifted into four people – I was myself, blue was there and so was Mankindle and his wife.

I wasn’t red and blue wasn’t blue – she was simply lovely – without the label and to be free in this room was incredible. Life outside this bubble was chaotic – inside this space was surreal. Prof M and his wife spoke earnestly and quietly amongst themselves – me and blue chatted up a massive storm.

Mankindle  succinctly explained what was going on – he had prepared for such an eventuality – we didn’t have much time but we could communicate without the present being aware of what the past was up to. He told us he had created a mind space worm hole where like-minded people from different times could interact briefly.

To make sure nothing left the space – once we stepped outside of the area we would remember nothing of what happened inside – this was a failsafe mechanism that proved very important. When one stepped back through the door only then did you remembered everything – but when you stepped outside the space all was instantaneously forgotten.

Obviously it would need an interaction element on one side to be set up for the interaction to the future – and the door and the room was such a devise he put in place many years before. We could communicate for now without being detected by the scientists in my time. Bob1 and the rest of the SCM would just see 2 catatonic people completely oblivious to anything lying on the slab. Their brain activity would be spiking to extremely dangerous levels.

Quickly Prof M explained what was going on – he had conceived this space for the purposes of making connection with a future time – in his wisdom in his age he realized that man created control mechanisms as a sort of controlled population dynamics. A way of controlling the masses in what would be an acceptable numbers approach. Most humans do not sanction cruelty to others – however when it’s done along religious, financial, social, scientific even racial lines then for some reason cruelty has been disgustingly tolerated. When man did away with those measures the NDCP filled in the gap of mans limited means. He explained Elitists have used this type of mechanisms throughout history really. – Prof M called it blue blood syndrome. My self and blue roared with laughter – because we were anything but elitists in our time.

Prof M was working on a way to extract us from our current time into a space in time he could manipulate – he knew he could use this space as a bridge for a few types of minds – minds that have undergone extreme abuse through a system, much like the system I was surrounded by. It was this science that bob1 wanted to get his hands on – it was this that I was being used to betray information back to the scientists in my time. Fortunately when we both came out of our catatonic states of mind we legitimately couldn’t remember what we experienced. Which was fortunate because the torture we were subjected to was extreme. And if we could remember anything we would have gladly given it up to stop the relentless abuse. All we knew is we wanted to go back behind the door. We were driven to it as if a powerful force was pulling us in.

After our last mind exploration trip behind the door , Blue was waning – I had grown immensely fond of her – we never spoke whilst in our real environment – but the moment we were allowed to go under – my time with her was incredible – a 02four since birth, like me – we concluded that we were scientific experiment fodder. Certain scientists in the name of their craft will do anything to find out more about the secrets of life. They need fodder such as ourselves to experiment upon – and we were such a group of specimens. Prof M said that nobody other than the scientists furthering NDCP ideals knew we existed. So Prof M was here to help us escape.

When I came round this last time,  bob1 was in front of me glaring – I felt happy but knew not why – he was completely irate – for some reason this particular time that we were under  was different – blue was now not responding and I was very weak. Bob1’s approach was to mercilessly shock me – only thanks to an SCM next to him did he stop. His evil little eyes wanting to inflict more and more pain – which contrasted to the high level SCM who had put an end to the treatment. I was very worried about blue, she had taken an immense beating and as they removed her from the room – I felt it might be the last time I connected with her. I called out, screamed, I tore at the fetters binding me, the loss I felt was exactly the same as Mankindles when the wergstand 2 where extracting him from his loving wife and family. – I was deep tissue shocked – the most severe form of shock treatment – it leaves scars – really – a big red creature now getting severe scaring – the irony of this kept going through my mind whilst I cried deeply for blue – an 02four that has emotion – this went against the very scientific rule book – to the SCM’s in the room I was obviously faking.  This was a manipulation tool that they had trained against.

If only I could go behind the door again without the induced coma process. I overheard the level 1 SCM talking to a colleague and putting us under again was to be way too much of a risk. Our brains where very close to lobo. So I needed to get to the room without the science. I didn’t know if this was even possible. For many weeks I tried and for many weeks I came up short – to the door and no further. I needed blue. So I tried to reach out to her – for a long while absolutely nothing – however when I did see her within the context of my mind’s eye – she was far off – the levels of concentration to get her to acknowledge me was extreme.  The SCM’s monitoring me new something was up and shocked me back whenever I went catatonic. I needed time – I just needed to get behind the door – safety. I could leave the big red encasing and go cranial.

Eventually I reached out to blue, together we walked through the door to the room again without the use of science – blue was weak and never recovered – although we got through the door to the other side– she soon had to leave – I knew once she stepped out from behind the door, that was the last I would see of her. I was completely distraught. Prof M said grieving was good and helped one learn empathy, but we must concentrate as we had important work to do – he was attempting to place me into a better environment – so whilst in the bridging area I was free from the shackles that bound me in the laboratory. Prof M said he had one last transition to do to help me transfer into a new safer environment.

I awoke, I couldn’t remember anything of how I came to be where I was - I looked at my hands. The room I was in was very Spartan.  I looked in the mirror and saw a beaked nose middle aged guy staring back at me – I had a vaguely familiar look about me.  My clothes where that of a level 1 SCM. This I did somehow understand, I know not how. 

I left the confines of the room and was met by a fellow SCM personage. They acted like they knew me very well – I played along – they briefed me on my new job – I was to interview an extremely hostile o2four for vital scientific information.

I was led through a maze of tunnels and passages – we eventually came into a locked room – the big red 02four had his back to me. My job was to extract information from this individual about some significant futuristic scientific discovery – all I knew is my life depended on the information this individual would divulge to me – my understanding of why I was here, what was going on in the big picture.  – I had all the shock instruments, I had the full weight of the level 1 SCM’s behind me. I went up to the captured o2four to start my dialogue – as we looked into each other’s eyes a realization crept over both of us.  We somehow where interlinked.

The name on his label was John Gray 021. All I knew is that my entire existence depended on me extracting what I could from John Gray 021 – the brief mentioned that he had been fused with a Prof Mankindles research – research that would get me back to the place I knew I was from. I had to get back and this stubborn, manipulative 02four was going to get me there. And I would stop at nothing to reach my objective, nothing at all. I was a man on a mission and this 02four was going to point me in the right direction – or die in the process.