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Mediocrity Of The Fittest
15 Jun 2004
From the truth blog at the bottom of luxefaire...
Short Science Fiction that may not be Science Fiction at all.
Mediocrity Of The Fittest
by Bill Gallagher, Hachita NM
“I do not mean for you to adopt mediocrity,” said the father, again and again to his son, “but to give the ILLUSION of adopting it. The world is changing quickly, and only by adapting to the changes can you hope to survive. Anonymity and privacy are becoming obsolete. You are already in a spotlight of sorts, just because you are my son. In order to avoid undue scrutiny, your only hope is to blend in with the norm, the vastness of the herd will protect you, to some degree.”
The boys father, a senior member of an elite intelligence structure within the US government, knew from whence he spoke. The machinators of Americas Death had worked long and hard to make America complacent with electronic toys for entertainment, and the gambit paid off. A lid went on new technology around 1980, and very few even noticed. Henceforth new technology became secret, as a means to control the mass in the very worst way, for reasons of National Security, of course.
And what a God awful bunch of technology there was. Artifacts, both terrestrial and not, as well as Teslas inventions, and certain other things stolen from unknown inventors since Tesla, who could safely remain unnamed, because not only had their technology been assimilated, but their records as well as themselves were terminated in damnation.
So from early on, the boy was schooled in maintaining a facade of trying hard, while never seeming to really grasp things; all the while sating his voracious intellect with the books given to him by his father, as well as the occasional “Secure Briefing”, as he came to know the conversations they had when they were alone.
The boy became a young man, and over time he learned that his father was of a small rebellious faction within The Agency, definitely a no-no, now that secrecy had become the cloak which designer-crime hid behind. Eventually his fathers “Alarming” attitudes were detected, his basic disagreement with the way The Agency toyed with the destiny of the country, and before he died of the rotting sickness, he told his son many things. The very cancer that was taking his life was a contractible form developed by, and considered a signature of, the very organization he had worked for. This medical “Technology” is as much a part of the medical/ insurance structure of the USA as are pharmaceutical medicines and surgery, and dovetails with other technologies of electronic sort, which actually accelerate growth of the oh-so-special cancers, funguses, and various other infection types created in Agency funded labs.
“Is it not elegant?” The father had asked his son, from a deathbed in Virginia. “The insidiousness of it all, the PLANNING, not just for years, but For DECADES; almost a CENTURY now. Gross mismanagement of the taxpayers largess, furthering the fortunes of a few spiritually retarded non-American families, and made to look like protection. Its a protection racket, simple as that. Create pain and hunger, both physical and intellectual, then withhold alleviation.
“The so-called Stewardship of America, touted by the Agency, and the family that created it, as their number one justification for being, was not such great stewardship afterall: the Russians were the first to understand that it was Tesla who had caused The Tunguska Event, as a display for Morgan. The Tunguska Event was actually an exhibition of Teslas newest “Military” technology. And as you already know, the dates match up very well. Exactly, in fact. So the Russians pursued and utilized Teslas technology first; they caught even The Agency with its pants down, and then they ransomed Americas continued existence for a big cut of the New World Order....”
The coughing began again, and the grimace of pain on the old mans face contorted his features into a grinning deaths head. He reached out and grasped his sons hand, hard.
“Remember. Mediocrity,” he hissed, “Pretend...” Then it was over. He lay back, and quit breathing. Animate to inanimate, from one moment to the next.
The boy, now a man, never forgot.
He called himself Revvy, told people it was his nickname from childhood, if they even asked, and he did his best to blend in, to fit within the herd, as his life progressed. This became increasingly difficult as time went on, but he found, even in (Or especially in) mediocrity, minor wealth, which allowed him to secure for himself certain privacy and freedom not available to all, and unsuspected by most. The wisdom of his fathers words were driven home over and over as he watched the monsters behind the final take-over of America begin their last song and dance. He watched as Terrorism struck America, and he became enraged, but not toward the enemy that pop media scapegoated. Not toward the enemy his Handlers would have him believe. Revvy was then 38 years of age, no longer a child by far, and he knew the story being perpetuated by the so-called government was intended for the vast majority of Americans, who were not children in age, but were children in mind, and always would be. The vast majority of America had been devolved to that intellectual level over many years, and at great expense to the taxpayer, and it showed. Oh yes, it really showed.
To Revvy the destruction of the buildings in New York by commercial aircraft was blatant in its diversionary intent, and its homeland source, and even though the family still running The Agency was going for it finally, after all the years of murder and deception leading up to this take-over, even though it was All Going Down, it was easy to see they had not prepared enough. Not nearly enough. Stock market profits led some investigators to early questions that could not be resolved, and the traitor presidents brother, whose family bought him a seat as governor of Florida, was tripping all over himself trying to cover the tracks of the real terrorists, which were of course, his family, and himself.
Time passed, a year, then two. It became very obvious to Revvy that the traitors had made many other serious mistakes too. These anti-Americans who had taken over Americas military for foreign powers were already finding it necessary to spin their first lies about their TOP SECRET technology of control, making excuses, as it were, even to their own side, many of whom were beginning to question, because they were realizing that they TOO had been lied-to all along. The excuses by the traitor government were palimpsest layers of deceit, preconceived, and designed, to nullify any questions concerning the hazards of the suppressed technology-of-control being perped on America, but the lies were not just half-baked, but downright ludicrous, to all but the most ignorant and mind controlled. To the intelligent man, the lies were even laughable.
The bottom line was this: the dangerous and powerful energy technology of Nikola Tesla was being deployed before Americas eyes, in the skies above their heads, and the reflective and conductive chemicals that were being sprayed daily, in lines like prison bars across American skies, were just the visible part of this massive and hugely expensive program of control.
One of the lies told by the traitors in power was that this chemical spraying was a shield; another lie was that these were just normal clouds, when in fact the inundation of the atmosphere and land with conductive/reflective metallic and chemical powders was actually a vehicle for the propagation of broadcast fields being used by the traitor government for ultra-secure communication, all-pervasive surveillance, as well as weather modification and behavior modification of subject populations. And again, all in the name of National Security, of course.
Many many people of America were really beginning to sees all this though, and a large percentage of the People were waking up, asking questions. Alterna-Techno explanations were being furnished by a few scholars of esoteric technology on the net, and after learning even just a little, john-on-the-street had no trouble whatsoever seeing the suppression of inventions which had taken place in the last 23 years, since 1980, so that those advances could be secretly employed for control, as an automated type of law-enforcement, and more.
All this truly said something about the mindset of the Agency-traitors, too. They had truly believed the people-at-large were so conditioned they would not question, nay, they would not even NOTICE, jets laying down grids of chemical lines above their heads, or lethargy on weirdly cloudy days, or widespread unreal insomnia, or VERY odd weather patterns. The traitors were slipping. And they were beginning to understand that. Their demise took on new aspects of reality. It was Revvys intent to hurry that demise along as much as possible.
This in fact was the main reason it was becoming so difficult for Revvy to operate and live without being noticed. He handled it well though; everything just took a little longer. Each and every step of his plan had already been choreographed across time, sometimes for years, and for the most part people were the levers and gears of this anti-machine, unwitting, perhaps, but never unwilling. He watched. He bided. He Studied and Worked. As chances to strengthen his plan presented themselves, he spent time assessing each for probable futures, all the while weighing many other things, not least-of-which was avoidance of detection. He had become aware of numerous human test subjects being tormented by The Agency, and he watched them from afar, until he felt it safe to sometimes approach them clandestinely, which again, many times took years. Thats how he finally met the man. The Man. The one to see it all through.
Revvy followed The Man through the crowd of Quartzsite Arizonas annual Rock and Gem Extravaganza, and he was surprised the guy was taking a break from his booth where he sold his line of collectible rocks, which he spelled ROX on his sign. Revvy was very aware of the numerous government operatives and minor paid ratz in this crowd, as well as the wealth and their private security.
He was dressed drab. Good desert hat, shades, t-shirt under flannel, and jeans. He listened to his boots crunching the dry gravel and sand that was Quartzsite, and he hurried his pace. The Man was buying an ice cream cone. Yes, all Gods chillin’ gots ta eat. Revvy made ready, and sidled up to The Man as he left the ice cream vendor.
“Hows the scream?” he asked.
It was a favorite of his, scream for ice cream.
Amazingly, the man seemed to understand it with ease, because in between bites he said:
“Was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time. Its rather important.”
The Man, the unnamed man, looked around at his walking partner for the first time.
“Important how?” he asked. “I have to get back to my booth...”
“Its time you had some help,” Revvy said, “But we have to make it quick, because many eyes watch here, and there is always that...”
He was pointing upward slightly.
The man, making quick work of his ice cream cone glanced upward at the lines in the sky. A small jet of the world government was laying down a line as he watched.
“OK,” he said, “But the quicker the better...”
Revvy said “Follow me” and led the man to a gigantic vendors tent where many people were shopping the wares. The noise inside was cacophonous. He turned around to look and smiled to himself as he saw The Man, who was a few years older than himself, casually making his way in the same direction, all the while admiring the behind of one of the rainbow girlz, who was about 21 and had an admirable bosom, as well as other attributes endearing her to the procreative.
Revvy led The Man towards a corner of the huge tent, and handed him a folded envelope, which The Man quickly pocketed. They acted like shoppers as Revvy talked, facing the products, checking prices.
“Be Very Careful to read that in privacy. When you are done with it, burn it. This will be very good for both of us, but the directions must be followed Exactly. They’re easy. You can do it.”
He turned and stuck out his hand, and gripped the others for just a second. “Many of your questions will be answered, but we will never meet again. When you find the box, read everything carefully, and spend the money wisely. Above all keep doing what you have been doing. This will make it easier. Good Luck.”
Without another word Revvy was gone. He just walked away, and The Man pretended to browse a few of the shelves as he too made his way out. Without so much as a backward glance, he went back to his booth. But he was changed. As was the world. He suspected none of this then, but he was a very quick study, which is the reason Revvy had picked him, and he would soon learn. And he never saw Revvy again.
Over the next few months Revvy observed with satisfaction as a mutinous dissonance occurred among the inside club of The Agency; he saw trickle down effects that only a few could see, and he knew now that at least some of them detected the hunter, felt the noose lowering over their necks. This was good. From library computer terminals he also observed other factors of his plan, factors effected now by sources of energy other than himself. Factors like weather patterns, and earthquakes. Factors effected now by The Man, and his helpers.
Revvy considered his plans over and over again, making adjustments if needed, but now, finally, adjustments were hardly ever needed at all.
A simple truth was the foundation of Revvys plan, and insurance for his success: the REAL reason behind the Ultra-Secrecy and denials surrounding the government traitors technology-of-control was a fact so basic it was literally horrifying. Energies on a planetary scale are huge beyond comprehension, but with just a little energy of the right type, in the right places, this planetary grid can be manipulated and employed, to great effect and extent. And anybody can do it. The traitors actually facilitated this, with their technology of treason which entailed creating great conductivity and reflectivity within the atmosphere itself. The means of manipulating this situation were huge antennae spread far and wide, they were everywhere, pased off to the public as cell phone towers, which, in part, they really were. The controls of these antennae are easily hacked by adepts with broadcast equipment. And finally, if that did not come off optimum, antennae were very easy to build, too. As well as many other things.
Nikola Teslas first earthquake machine had been a trip-hammer device used to input a certain frequency of energy into the earth via an iron beam driven into the ground. It worked so well he had to take a sledge hammer to the motor which was driving the trip hammer, in order to shut the machine down. It shook buildings for many blocks in the vicinity, and was just the first of such devices. Tesla got better and better at that, and his patents are still public information. Now, with the present technology that is just laying around in dumps, and thrift stores and places like Quartzsite Arizona, even BETTER things can be built. Lightweight. Easy to conceal. More effective.
And from the looks of things that was beginning to happen. The Man was becoming busy, the evidence was clear, and he was also becoming invisible to the traitors, his handlers.
“Very good,” thought Revvy, “Very Good.”
As Revvy readied yet another package for burial in a secure spot, he thought ahead, and hoped it would not ever need to be accessed, but better to be safe than sorry. These secretions of his were a dance across time, and it was certainly a fine day when he had been able to direct The Man from Quartzsite to his package and his destiny.
He wondered what The Man had thought about the package when he had first found it. No matter, the information was at work, so the end result was as intended. The man now knew that Tesla was just the first tweaker of the worlds energy grid during this latest civilization, this latest time of Man, this fifth world. He also knew that the energy had been used in several of mans worlds, as the relics of the fourth world were still in evidence. The three original Egyptian pyramids, as well as some of the South American Pyramids, were foci and transmitters for this type of energy, and Teslas Magnifying Transmitter was as a cap gun to a cannon in comparison. But even this type of energy had never saved Man from the threat outside, the impact cataclysms that have ALWAYS ended things in fire and ice on this planet.
Men like those of The Agency had always ruled, by stealing and killing and lying, threatening their way into power, all the while exhibiting their basic and true simianship in the sense that they had no clue about the long term, and THAT was manifest. It has always been manifest.
Revvy continued to monitor the weather and earthquakes, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the weather patterns were becoming even More Weird in places, and there were some tell-tale seismic happenings going on too, a warm up of sorts, in places where seismic activity was usually not too prevalent. The Man and his helpers were wresting control from the agency. From the foreign military. From the take-over powers. A relatively easy thing to do right now, as the traitors still had no idea anyone else even suspected their true manipulations. Revvy couldn’t be sure but he thought something was coming. Something big. He was right. It happened in the Northeast, during the republican convention of 2004. Immediately following the largest earthquake ever recorded in the United States, New York City as well as the twenty to fifty miles surrounding it, fell into the Atlantic Ocean. Simultaneously London England was wrecked by Earthquake with huge fireballs and lightening from the ground demolishing the banking district there.
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Re: Mediocrity Of The Fittest
by bob gorman
bcibob670 (nospam) aol.com (unverified)
15 Jun 2004
lets assume this conspiracy exist. What should be done about it?