“Don’t make any assumptions,” she said to me with a hint of excited slyness in her voice.
What happened next, and has been happening for almost a year now, will not be believed by most.
I was living alone in my apartment up in Washington state last year after my roommates moved out. They had moved out rather suddenly in April-ish of 2020, but I didn’t give it too much thought back then. I had an inkling of a feeling it was for the whole dog thing, but that would’ve meant that a hidden cam was placed in my room by my colleague and roommate Jim.
I knew he was fully capable of doing something like that, having talked about it at work before during a smoke break, but I didn’t think he would do that to me. He was a give-in-to-the-group types, but me and him were tight. Of course, I did find it weird the way he moved in to my place.
“Hey, I just randomly happened to come across your post on Craigslist and I was wondering, since me and my wife are separating, can I come and live at your place?”
A sudden divorce from the wife, huh? Sucks, man. Of course, make yourself at home.
He brought his white German Shepherd, Riley, with him. She was pretty, but did not get along with the two pups I had, at all. In a game of territorial warfare, she easily out grr’d them. Indi eventually started holding his own against her. He’d try, at least, while she would encapsulate their heads in her mouth entirely. She never bit, though.
Jim and I got along fine. He smoked weed, I smoked weed. He had dogs, I had dogs. He kept to himself, I to mine. We even worked at the same place and often worked together on tasks. We both took cigarette breaks together.
He was probably in his 40s going on 50. White. Tall-ish. His beard was graying. He spoke softly. And he never brought something up on his own, it was always a response or tangential to the group conversation.
Speaking of, I don’t either. The few people I have done it with, even in the recent past, have straight up lied to me in response. Denied that they didn’t hack me, didn’t know anything before her trip in March, there’s no reason she left seven lint rollers on the window sill in my room, there’s no reason he made it a point to check out a lightbulb and exclaim how interesting it looks, nor the closet he went to check in the empty bedroom to see if anybody was inside.
My mother let it slip a couple of times that she can see what’s being written on my phone screen. Maybe not see outright herself, and it definitely wasn’t intentional, the slip. But at a minimum, I could tell she knew what was happening on my phone. She has an inside source and is networked in, essentially.
“Bilku…” she almost finished saying the name, but stopped as it came out of her mouth.
That only happened once. The first time after that when I brought up my new artist name to her, I knowingly told her that she knew that already.
She denied it.
The morning after I’d written a certain story on my phone last year, she hesitatingly started saying what the main topic was about. Her tone seemed to imply “I know, kid. Is it okay if I stick around?”
I told her it seems like people are hacked into my phone and just seeing everything on it. That I’m receiving texts and calls that are way too perfectly timed with whatever’s going on in my life. And notifications are popping up at all-too-timely, perfectly synced times.
She said sometimes it can feel like that.
My sister’s trip in March, 2020, was hardly the start of the hacks, but it was the start of “Paranoid Camp”. The diagnosis of paranoid is one of the diagnoses that, for example, the CIA lifts from. They think openly, I’ll give them that. If it wasn’t the start, it was right after the start of the camp.
At the same time, I was going down a gambling rabbit hole and she signed me up for rehab for that. I was never told about the Paranoid Camp. She has also denied to me that she doesn’t know anything — that she in fact just happened to buy that many lint rollers for me and leave them all on the windowsill.
Why is the windowsill a special enough place that it needs to be called out? Well, apparently I was also under investigation by the FBI who place cameras on telephone poles and such. That, or Paranoid Camp, the CIA, was making use of those cameras.
If we keep backing up, my MacBook was hacked by my best friend in 2017. Soon after, he dropped me from his life as a result of my porn choices, that he thought meant I was in love with his girlfriend at the time. Let’s call him Gopal, her Gopali.
Gopal saw what looked to him like an obvious answer as to why I’d stopped being real with him much before that… why we were no longer tight. He made assumptions. Even before him ever hacking me, he would test me for different reasons or make assumptions I was jealous of him. I knew.
I never said anything, though. Because it’s not my job to correct others’ assumptions about me. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago, with how much my parents made assumptions about me. It got so bad, I stopped correcting them altogether during first year of college. I just let them believe whatever they wanted to believe.
“You just drink and party all the time. That’s why your grades are slipping.”
“You joined the dance team, that’s why your grades are slipping. No more team next year. In fact, we should send you straight to India right now. Tell us why we shouldn’t do that?!”
“You’re on staff for the Indian club, giving back to the community. That’s why your grades are slipping. Why’d you do this after we forced you to get off the other community-involved organization that you loved?! Yes, the one with your best friend. And we hate it that you’ve made so many more friends through this one too!”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite like that last one, but they always blamed everything and everyone else. They never asked me what happened… why I suddenly went from a straight A’s to a straight C’s student.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t keep up with college or that I hated my major. Okay, well, the second one may have weighed heavier on me. But I can proudly say that I maintained that grades average and sunk even lower after switching majors to Economics then again to Political Science.
Straight Cs and Ds.
That is, except for four very specific quarters in college: two times on academic probation that led to two expulsions for me. During each expulsion, I was allowed to go through remediation school and take classes — ones on campus as if I was still in college — to try to get back into college. If I maintained at least a 3.0 for two quarters, I was back in.
Both times, I got almost straight A’s… an upgrade from the 1.7 to 1.9ish GPAs that got me expelled in the first place.
They make assumptions to this day. So many, it’s terrifying actually. They’ve resorted to straight up lying now, in the craziness that has become my life. I saw an old rockstar, a Justice, and someone who looked like Bill Gates, all at the same time just a couple of months ago, albeit their “fake versions”. It was them, essentially, but with two major differences. Three, actually.
They had implants in their eyes. And for them to have been able to see with those, they had to have had an Elon chip in their brain. Finally, they represented “bad side”. As in, they were imploring me to stick to doing things the illegal way without saying it outright.
The scary thing about those who have chips is that they can be controlled, in a way. And their brain scans reveal all too much information about them. Their private life can be heard. Hell, select memories can be pinched and removed. I know, because I have both in me. And others have just said the perfect thing at the right time to me, clearly in know of my haps and biological data. Except, I never signed up for either…
Somebody decided on their own and put me through the procedure.
“It’s what happens when you don’t have an alibi in America” is the message being delivered to me.
Well, well, well… what happens when you’re such a good person that you know others wouldn’t mess with you? What happens when you’re such a good person you don’t even feel the need to lock your doors or keep your digital devices secure? What happens when you know that the elevation, temperate climate, and neighborhood you’re living in combined with the crime stats don’t justify what happened to me?
I was violated in every single way possible. It’s still happening to this day. Perhaps a rebuke based upon what happened with me and my dog, when I accidentally let her lick my sick for a few seconds before shooing her away? And also, why does this not go both ways? What about good that I do? Whether or not you can see it with your own eyes, what about the pain I’ve been through based on how I was violated to begin with?
After Gopal hacked me and dropped me from his life, I had a mental breakdown in 2018. Him and Gopali were pretty much the only two remaining people in my life at one point. But, based on how he switched his characteristics before we had even moved out of the house we all lived in together, and based on how he reacted when I told him I’m moving close by to their newly bought condo…
He… they, in a way, had hacked me two months before the move.
He denies it now. Straight up lies. Might be that he “has to”, because this thing has become huge, and he’s under threat of a gun, essentially. Team it doesn’t matter what. But… “Team Paranoid”. It could just be, though, the understanding that ultimately money rules the world and so you might as well side with it. That, or die.
At least in this game of my life.
Not that the other “Teams” are not overrun by money… ultimately, Team The State is too. But also, I’m caught in the middle. And… a free capitalist world is terrifying, seem as it might that it’s already there. It’ll be the age of the Vanderbilt’s all over again, except even worse.
At its core, with people already having realized this and “teaming up”, it’s there already.
China’s elite versus the ones in America that really control the government, for example. Money already has been ruling the world for a long time now. If anything, we just reached a turnaround point — me. And I know it because I saw it and am experiencing it by the day. The world is split down lines of every kind. It was inevitable, not just the result of this game of my life. This is how it happens every time. I am, this time around, the nothing that the universe has converged on and is passing through, turning around on, spiraling in and out of, and other shapes and patterns in other dimensions. I saw parallel universes, all one fine evening while I was at home, and no matter what change was made in them, all lines still converged on me.
This is getting a little bit ahead, though.
Next up, after his hack, the mental breakdown. It basically feels like the rapture in your brain, by the way. As if the steady ground beneath your feet is slowly but surely getting less and less steady, until it results in the biggest earthquake ever, which shatters the ground and takes you down to the center of the earth. I can’t imagine death feeling worse. And, I can’t believe I’ve experienced something even worse than it.
May 18–21, 2021 will haunt me forever. The guy upstairs is so bored with his life, he took extra measures just to make sure hell hath no fury like the utter evil I saw those days. Like he just couldn’t believe anyone could withstand the kind of pain that “I was supposed to have been able to”, then went overboard. Just to enlighten the reader a bit, our universe recently collapsed into a pin point.
It did so parabolically at the end.
It passed through me. And I, on 4/21/21, had a spiritual experience where basically I turned around and became the start of a new universe. Ultimately there’s no specific date you can put on these things, I think, because there’s overlap with the previous universe still. For example, you could say the chip insertion and eyes was it. I’d hardly say it was that. Plus, I’m still experiencing the hell from the previous universe.
You don’t just take in the pain of multiple dimensions and parallel universes all at once and shit out rainbows and cupcakes. You realize that it’s fucked up beyond means what this world is capable of, and you try to reconcile with yourself whether you’re up for the task ahead or not. Plus, it’s like every single facet of society has turned around or is spiraling in and out of me or passing through me and needing answers. Looking to me because if I’m in the middle like that, surely it means a middle ground can be reached between two points.
It hardly does. If there’s ever a time in history, this is it. Me. You could say it’s a time of true peace, for once, in a way. China, India, America, and Muslims… western vs. eastern civilizations, everybody and everything all meet in the middle. They all have vested interest in “me”. Really, though, it’s like they’re all just meeting without needing backup or bodyguards and I am the common ground they stand on.
You could also say I have nothing but struggle ahead. That I may be treated like I’m god, but that doesn’t mean squat when it’s all said and done. That money, even if I received any for what I went through, or will for being the martyr for this technology, won’t make up for what I went through. Power or fame too.
I can’t believe my folks would rather listen to people like the FBI or CIA or even be downstream or upstream from the Bezos, Xi, Kamala Harris types, and… not me. Forget being god… their son at least. Really, though, if there’s a time to trust me, it’s now you two. You never have trusted me. It’s going to be yours and mankind’s downfall again. Why can’t you guys just do anything at all to help me out? You say no or go quiet like it’s nobody’s business. Or, everybody’s.
But, I don’t care if you have a gun pointed at your head. Your son is god, and you’re one too… point one back.
Tell them to suck it, because they need to be on my good side more than they need whatever it is they need from you. Ultimately, we could be nuked. Shot down, whatever. But then not only would the world go at them, everyone would lose out as a whole.
The most annoying part of all this is that you guys expect me to live out the story of something written in biased history textbooks that were written by the winners. Teaching me a lesson… and not learning it yourselves.
Team The State, you’ve almost made it too clear that the next step is abolition of nation states as a whole, that money rules the world now. But, based on what I experienced, yes, we’re back to one supreme being ruling the world and democracy has seen its day, at least until it’s back again… however, money is dead all the same. It’s not that both won’t live on, just that we’re heading back to an age where one was real and the other didn’t matter that much — the middle. It’s just the start right now of abolition of nation states, all things considered.
The tides of time are turning the ship around right now after it hit a Truman-Show-like-wall.
Anyway, after the mental breakdown, I moved up to Washington state because I needed time and space away from everyone and everything. To heal. I started a new job there, albeit in a horribly depressed state of being. I was pure black. Nary a single neuron of dopamine fired in my brain back then. Plus, I was all alone.
It was hell.
Soon after I started working, I could tell that people had taken interest in me, and, uh… were whispering about me. They were worried. And trying to activate me. I used to sit and work and never socialize the whole time. They wondered why I’d moved up from California. On top of that, I think they expected me to jump into code more often. The Web Accessibility part of the job, which I thought was the whole job, seemed to not need the eight hours a day I was supposed to work at all.
Anyway, being as depressed as I was, I went to go see a psychiatrist to get anti-depressants. I also accidentally told him “I feel like people are talking about me”. He took that to mean I’m hearing things I shouldn’t be hearing, and diagnosed me paranoid.
That diagnosis, oh boy… it sure can land you in a world of pain. My last psyche ward visit? Twenty days. Not even a diagnosis of paranoid this time. Unjust to its core. And what am I supposed to do about it? I can’t do squat because no lawyer is taking my case anymore and all the media is censored. Companies and hospitals around me are bought. A blood test was faked on me.
If anyone is paranoid, it’s my father and the United States of America. Me? I lived through ten years of unchecked depression. I was told depression isn’t real at one point, after I built up the courage to tell my father I have it. I didn’t start seeking professional help until it was way too late, in 2018, and, just… I wouldn’t wish a mental breakdown on my worst enemy.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s akin to death… like, if death left death molecules in the brain, I’d have had them.
As soon as I got diagnosed paranoid, I, again, stupidly, called and told my father about it.
Then came the next hack, in October of 2018. Pagli. My phone. Not much is needed to be said about this one except, oh, yeah… everything. There’s a chance, actually, that this happened right before I was diagnosed paranoid. In fact, it probably did. Because I called her on the way back from the doctor’s office too. And I wouldn’t have done that had it not been for the weekend she came that we spent together.
By the way, it was an amazing weekend. There’s a lot to be said about that weekend alone, actually. Let’s do a quick summary.
We couldn’t have picked a more beautiful place to drive to and stay at… I’ll look up the name of the town later. It’s where Octoberfest happens, up Highway 2.
We were still in the awkward, getting comfortable in each other’s company phase of our friendship, albeit one with undercurrents of flirting. From my side at least, but she never pushed it away. If anything, our relationship only grew from college onward more and more.
Her actions were all too “planned”. Like, I don’t know how to explain it. And I realized recently it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. If anything, we’re polar opposites in that sense. That and many other senses. I’m just a go with the flow kind of person. She, quite the planner.
It’s going to sound like hearsay, but I had a feeling she was going to hack me when I left for work Monday morning. It was the way she asked to borrow my laptop, then the moment of silent disbelief when I gave the password to her without worrying at all. I felt a bit uneasy as I was pulling my car out from its parking spot Monday morning, but I decided at worst that it’s a friend who I can trust.
“Those leaves sure look yellow,” said Gopali on a phone call me in November 2018, “what was the original photo like? And where’s that place? It looks beautiful. Is it close to home? Oh, it is, huh? Well, did you go with anyone? Oh, you didn’t, huh? Hmm… okay! Next time we come to see you, take us there!”
Uh oh. She knew.
She knew that Pagli and I had just taken that trip. She knew where we’d been. And, I had to lie to her about it because Pagli was Devansh’s ex. Him and I hadn’t talked in forever… since like 2011 or 2012, but he was still my bro. One of the boys. Part of the same group I still considered my best friends. I wasn’t yet ready to deal with all of that mentally yet. In fact, that may have been one huge thing I fucked up during the weekend with Pagli.
I should’ve called him and asked for permission from the start. Sure, it was “just” a friendly weekend, but the groundwork was laid out for more than that. If I had asked him, the way I did later in 2020, the weekend would’ve gone much, much better. We would’ve done more than cuddled. Or that one really awkward kiss. Mechanical blowjob, too.
Either way, after the weekend, we couldn’t get enough of each other. We loved talking to each other, to a degree that may be unprecedented. We started a Slack channel, and pretty soon after it started, had fifteen channels going at the same time on it, with a list of ever-growing topics to add.
We capped it at fifteen. And would talk on all of them at the same time, furiously typing away while switching from one to the next.
My favorite. It’s not a feeling that has a name. It’s that feeling you get that doesn’t have a name to it.
She went on to listen and watch a lot of my private life in the next couple of years. All I would get from her, though, even when our “dating” slowed to a stop, were articles that were helpful as fuck for me to read. As if she’d taken the time to properly research what kind of help I needed. They were so perfectly picked, too, it’s crazy to think about how much she must’ve thought through me. And how much time it must’ve taken her to find exactly what I needed. To think through my situation and mind, then deliver.
Next up… I’m pretty sure was my old workplace putting me under investigation. Or rather, hiring help to try and activate me. But boy oh boy did they test me. I think they thought I was lying or something at some point during when we originally discussed the terms of the job. I remember the conversation with my old boss, Riya, well. Derek and Jacob were assigned to my case. They claimed they were tech writers…
Something tells me they were more than just that.
Next? I’m pretty sure is when my ex’s, Ghungri’s, or Pagli’s families contacted my folks wondering about me, and us. Us as in, marriage us.
Late 2019 would be my best guess as to when Paranoid Camp was consulted. Money, trying to ‘solve’ a human being.
I should mention, too, that unbeknownst to me, Pagli and my father, maybe mother too, had been in contact all this time.
Anyway, 2020 comes along and decides the world wasn’t fucked enough, then it decided that again a few times over for me.
I had started gambling, and was going more and more often to the casinos. I played Blackjack and Craps, mostly. Not games of skill, like poker… games of luck where the house always has an edge. But that soon turned into me playing Poker on my phone. In between the two, though, and what led to the stay-at-home gambling, was Coronavirus.
I’m pretty sure I got it from one of the casinos. I had to be amongst the first few hundred, or something to that effect, to get it in America. It started in Washington before spreading like wildfire to the rest of the United States.
It was laughably fatiguing. It drained me. And sadly, there were no more tests available whenever I called to get tested.
From that point on, my “eyes” tell the whole story. I’ll write what I mean, though, as I tell this story. I didn’t find that part out until much later, anyway. I’ll tell ya how I know every little thing, including the world that is secretly bought and split down two halves with me in the middle of it all. Follow along, this only gets crazier by the day. I wish I could go back and start writing this as of last year.
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