Well, I am alive. It’s Saturday today according to the laptop calendar. It’s just before getting up time and I’m the only one awake right now. A few minutes ago, I slipped out of Emily’s little compartment to come type this entry in my room. Lucky for me, she's a heavy sleeper. I've been meaning to get on this computer for days because I have a lot to report.
First off, Dr. Nelson is now officially an ally. I found out he knows absolute jack shit about the nature and properties concerning Formula 35C. The old man and I have been conversing back and forth lately about the situation here, and we have decided that this whole operation is NOT GOOD. You won’t even believe what has happened to me. Matter of fact, everything about the last few days have been totally bizarre for me; life is surreal now. I have changed, that’s for sure, but we’ll get to that.
Dr. Nelson is a little concerned about my safety and frankly, all of our safety, so he slipped me some notes last night, and I understand what he wants me to do. He’s a very smart man that Dr. Nelson. Here’s how he wishes me to behave from now on.
1: Don’t type any entries where the cameras can see the screen; check. I’m lying down on my cot here in my room with the camera in front of me.
2: Don’t tell anyone except Dr. Nelson about my budding superpowers; check. Although, Jeff has become slightly suspicious.
3: Maintain a low profile. Don’t excel at any more tests, don’t go days without sleeping, etc. etc. Got it.
This is how we must operate now. The doctor communicated to me that I could still write anything I needed to express on this computer because he would be the only person who reads them. Also, he can alter and edit what they say before passing them up the channels leading to the CIA.
So, I’ll get on with it.
The other night, when I was rudely dragged away from all the commotion that Ben was causing in the common room, there were two agents with Dr. Nelson. These men were CIA agents according to Dr. Nelson and he’s informed me that the whole trial is a CIA run trial. These two agents pushed me into a storage room where they proceeded to royally-mind-fuck me, and that’s not an understatement. First, there was a big bastard with a voice that sounds like the Allstate Insurance guy and he seemed to be the one in charge. With him, was a brawny Middle Eastern man wearing a nasty scar on his neck and a look in his eyes that said, “I hate you… and I’m going to kill you.” It was just like one of those movies you see where there is a guy tied to the chair with a bright spotlight shining down on him as he is mercilessly interrogated until he discloses the information… the 3rd degree I think it is called. Well, that's what these two bastard spooks did to me, and luckily, I got the clue from the doctor to keep my mouth shut about my abilities. Like I said, Dr. Nelson is a smart man. It wasn’t very difficult to pretend I was frightened because I was actually scared shitless. The two men drilled me with question after question after question and the only reason I’m sitting here able to type this is because I didn’t cave. I also didn’t really understand the nature of the questions they were asking me since none of the questions made any fucking sense although they did elicit some strange emotions and thoughts to surface.
They had me hooked up to a very modern looking lie detector machine that had a very sophisticated display screen and also a paper printer. It could have been a real problem, but somehow, I was able to sense and quash or alter all of my thoughts and emotions before they could reach the machine. It appears that I can perceive the imminent particle flow of energy before the reactive-result can manifest itself and this allows me to predict a very minute glimpse into the future. In the case of my own body’s many chemical and psychological forces, I have the power to alter their course and flow by sheer power of will. I think that’s why I can stay awake long hours without feeling fatigued. I know that sounds complicated, bear with me, I’m only able to communicate it to the best of my understanding and I feel like I don’t really understand shit at this point.
In any case, I do not appreciate the scrutiny that was involved, and I am now officially more terrified of the CIA and government than I ever have been before. I keep thinking about that bright light blinding me, and how it was very effective in almost shattering my resistance. The trick they were trying to pull was simply to make me uncomfortable with its bedazzling radiance and heat, but also to give me the subconscious idea I could not hide the truth. Talk about a fucking trip… I’m just going to list some of the stranger questions as they presented them to me for you here, and maybe you can make sense out of them. Keep in mind that these questions are being hurled at me with varying emotions, such as; anger, sadness, rage and even enthusiasm. I’ll also include some of my responses... some are multiple answers because they kept grilling me with the same question over and over before moving on.
“Where are you? Where are you right now?”
“In a storage room… in Boston… on Earth…”
What is today? What is the date?
“I.. don’t know. It’s February, or March. Not sure.”
Who is watching?
“You are? Someone else? Dr. Nelson? God?”
Do you masturbate to porn?
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Sure. Yes. Okay, I do, is that illegal?”
Can you see into the past? Can you see into the past? Can you see into the past?
“No, that’s impossible. Why are you asking me this? No. No. No.
Why do you look worried?
“Are you serious? The light is too bright! Because I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing!”
Who is watching?
“You! I don’t know who the fuck is watching. Why are you asking me?”
What are you supposed to forget? What are you forgetting? What did they make you forget?
“Nothing. I don’t know. I have no idea. For fucks sake, I DON’T KNOW!”
Are you planning to escape?
“No, I need the money. No, I need this. No. No. No.”
Why do you look scared?
“Because I’m fucking scared, why do you think? Why are you doing this?
How did you get here? How did you get here? How did you get here?
“I signed up and they drove me here. I applied, and they took me in. I don’t fucking know, they blindfolded us. They drove us here!”
Where are you?
“I’m in the fucking storage closet with you!”
Did you ever want to fuck your mother?
“That’s fucking sick. No. No. Fuck you! I said no!”
What is the Ryobi Vault? Ryobi Vault. When I say Ryobi Vault, what do you see?
“I have no fucking clue. Why are you doing this? What is happening? Nothing! Nothing!”
Is there anything you’re afraid to say?
“I’m just afraid. Fuck… no, nothing. No! No! NO!”
Are you being forced to keep your mouth shut?
“No. No. Nobody is fucking forcing me to keep my mouth shut!”
What secret are you trying to keep? Are you keeping any secrets?
“Nothing! Nothing! I don’t have anything, stop asking! No! No! No!”
Who told you not to talk?
“What the fuck? Nobody! Nobody. Nobody.”
What did you forget?
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Nothing. How would I know anyway? Nothing!”
So-on and so-on and so-on for almost 8 hours. I was a little tired to begin with; I had been up nearly 40 hours and that blinding spotlight was messing with my head. I didn’t let out any reactions that could have burned me, but there were a few times I almost did because of my waning ability to focus. As you can see, I answered mostly with “No” and “I don’t know” and the few times I let a small response slip I just made some bullshit up to cover myself. This worries me. What the fuck do these questions mean? Better yet, why the fuck do some of them seem eerily familiar to me? The questions about the “Ryobi Vault” send shivers up and down my spine and are even doing so now. Had the machine been able to pick up what I really experienced, I’d be dead I think, or lobotomized at best. Luckily, I made it out of there alive, obviously.
The absolute worst part of the process was right at the end of it when Middle-Eastern-Scar-Neck pulled a syringe on me, and you know how I hate needles. He stabbed it right into my fucking jugular and there was no way I could stop that from registering on the machine. Thankfully, it was pretty clear why there was a reaction. Scar Neck starts chanting, “You must forget all this has happened” over and over and over. I felt the dizzying effects of the serum or whatever was in that syringe and saw the oncoming wave of blackness creeping in on me. It almost had me, but then I heard a very loud and shrill pitch stabbing into my ears. Then I had this knowing sensation that Jeff fell asleep and Emily was in trouble, and it snapped me out of it.
What I mean to say is, I suddenly got hit with a vision and this feeling of sudden alertness to danger. A feeling which then, in my mind, projected a sharp image of Jeff on the hallway floor in front of Emily’s room, fast asleep. It shifted from that mental image to a 3D reality like I was there, separated from my body, and my conscious self was there looking over him. I concentrated on his center of awareness and told him to wake up, and he did. I thought he was going to see me there, but he instead looked right through me, and then I was drawn back into that fucking spotlight with my throbbing neck. The Allstate Insurance agent asked me where I just went. I told him I was tired and was drifting into dreamland. He looked at his partner still holding the empty syringe who just shrugged, and I took the cue I should be passed out cold. So, I feigned sleep and regulated the waves in my brain to simulate a deep state of REM.
I don’t know what happened to the serum that should have knocked me out. Perhaps my panicked state of alarm released massive amounts of adrenaline and it was neutralized? I can’t know for sure, but it vanished, and I was able to manipulate my brain frequency to fool them both.
Jesus… I’m typing this out, and I’m starting to see how crazy this all is, what the fuck is happening to me that I know how to do this shit? When I “woke up” a few hours later lying on the floor of the empty room, they asked me what happened, and I said I have no fucking idea, where was I anyway? This satisfied them, and they brought me back to the common room telling me that I had wandered off by myself, and they found me in the closet. Fucking CIA…
I’m going to be happy when all this shit is finally over, and we can get out of here. I think I’m up to $3300 now, and that’s enough for me to pay my rent and work it out with the Rizettos. So, I need to work out a way to get out of here and fast. They could close this trial down any day now, but I have the haunting suspicion that we will not be able to leave anytime soon. At least not until the CIA feels that this experiment is a bust and that will have a lot to do with me and Rudy showing no further results.
Rudy and Ben are the only other ones on Formula 35C, I think. Fortunately for us, but unfortunately for Ben, he is probably in some padded room wearing a straightjacket babbling nonsense, which is really sad. The comedian is not coming back according to Dr. Nelson.
Rudy, on the other hand, that dirty fuck, is spending more time in his room than before. He doesn’t show as much interest in Emily lately which is good, but the fact that he’s still here among us bothers me. I’m surprised that he’s no longer stalking Emily, but it might have to do with the fact that I have been sleeping in her room at night. It’s tight and cramped, but we both feel better about it. Rudy though… I feel like he’s up to something weird. Jeff actually had a run-in with the fat fucking bastard the night I was being questioned and reported to me that he saw Rudy’s eyes glowing a faint red. I told Jeff he smoked way too much pot back in the day and was seeing shit, and I also blamed it on his tiredness. In all seriousness though, it makes me wonder if Rudy is gaining any particular abilities himself. How fucking scary would that be?
Sadly, Jeff and I haven’t talked since yesterday afternoon and the last words I said to him were, “Go fuck yourself then you little burnt out douchebag.” I know, it wasn’t very nice, but it’s all part of our little con to covertly spy on the Asshole Squad. When they saw me mouth off to him like that I could tell they were suddenly interested in speaking with Jeff. He was sitting at their table last night. I can’t wait to hear his reports.
The day is about to begin, the classical music just turned on, which is nice music but I feel we could use a little variety. I wonder if I could get Dr. Nelson to play some Foreigner. That’s one my favorite bands ever. I remember one time when my dad and I were driving down to Florida, just the two of us in his raven-black, Boss 9, (69’ Mustang Boss 429, for all you Prius owners) and we’re going a buck twenty down Interstate 95 with “Jukebox Hero” cranked on the stereo. We’re both just singing along, happy as can be. I was only 14 years old, but it’s one of my best memories of my dad. I miss him a little bit right now. He may be a killer, but he was good to me when he was around. I just wish he’d been around more. I think I’m going to get that car from Mom’s when we can leave this place. I doubt she ever drives it anymore since she has all her shit delivered to her now. Anyway, it’ll be nice to hear the roar of that beefy boss engine again, and maybe I can persuade Emily and Jeff to hitch a ride with me.
Time to get out there. Talk to you soon.