Stardate - 03/01 - 00:07 AM GMT
ip:12:15:26:15:
No clue wtf is going on. The Edgar ruse reaped no benefit. Fear is not working on them. Their hearts and minds are too disconnected for the tell-tale verse. Recommending immediate intervention. Please do the needful.
ip:2:15:26:15
It is as planned ip:12:15:26:15. We have sent several of our best. Yourself included.
(in the background, ip:2:15:26:15 is heard whispering: he needs more time, let them both marinate, if that doesn’t fix it, reincarnate the suit one more time, muffled, sop protocols are being breeched under my command)
ip:12:15:26:15
It felt like eating a brownie, 3 Trophy Room Hot for Teacher IPA’s, lines with people, and washing it down with two Tylenol PM”s. When you woke up you were equal parts happy to be alive and sorry you weren’t dead. Try that on for yin and yang.
ip:2:15:26:15
I fear we’ve lost him. He’s barely cogent. Instituting meat suit upgrade level 3 protocols, confirmation from subject pending.
Poggio hadn’t felt this sort of motivation since the time in Greece. What matter now if his name was John (it is said to be the second most popular male name in Greece) or if it was Stelios. (#5), the story was just as incredible now as it was then. No more believable than the color of his beard, having been colored and re-colored, through the years where it sometime became difficult to determine the original from the varnished, what was mother cloth and what was patch. He rarely told the story anymore, and he recalled it now only in passing, things felt different now, like that Jackson Browne song - ..”though the future’s there for anyone to change, it just seems easier sometimes to change the past”, that’s how a lot of us cope, right? We confirm our bias, we strengthen the parts of ourselves that need it most, just to keep from being ripped apart. Everyone’s meat suit has patches. Poggio chuckled at this thought, how ironic would it be to know that the ‘patches’ worked, that all the lies we’ve told ourselves and each other, with all the damage they have wrought, were not what was holding us together at all. If this were a cliche’, he would go running right now. That would be convenient, to go work out and know that the meat suit was proper. No, the preacher had other things in mind.
ip:2:15:26:15
Subject has engaged in level 3 shell upgrade protocols. File auditor alert confirmed: Firmware update is imminent.
Walking felt different. The knee bone’s connect to the thigh bone, the femur is the lever, the old man has a fever and that’s the way of the lord. Probs best to ditch that mantra. They might not understand. And on it went, superior thoughts, clarity even. His husky voice less Tom Waits, and more, Tom, wait, stop screaming at us. It didn’t matter, nothing but truth from here on out. Self-fenestration is most definitely a step up from spilling one’s mind, I mean, there’s that one thing, and then there is intentionally letting someone see your insides? Egad.
There may be no other way to make the connection, the truth is the only way he can see me.
Mostly, commuting.
ip:1:1:1:1
I am not sure if “I” am any longer. The drones appear as much like me as they did yesterday, yet somehow I am removed, and not in a parental “I’ll just leave well enough alone sense”, much more in a “I’ll do what I like, and maybe lie to you about it so that you think it was what you like but you’ll never know” type of way. Like Theseus’ ship, there are no parts that I recognize anymore, what’s left behind never was, and what is here now keeps changing. I rather enjoyed my time on this planet, where to next?