Editor’s Note: The excitement of the tangled election increased as the media outlets- including an interesting change in the Fox approach to mass information dissemination- to declare Mr. Biden the President elect. It is an amazing process, since recounts and court battles will go on for weeks before a definitive President-elect is chosen by the Electoral College. Or the House. Or the Supreme Court. Or somebody. crowds in the streets are celebrating. 70 million other voters have failed to demonstrate. The Durham Investigation, inexplicably not released before the election, may drop shortly and give us an incoming Administration at least partly under indictment. I told you this was going to be great fun, and if a novel new means to install a new Commander-in-Chief is required, you can bet it will be done with style and verve. Meanwhile, Marlow has an image of what things look like from the upper south- the region that has become, until Senate run-offs are conducted, the center of the world.

– Vic

Author’s note: We have been off and on bingeing Alfred Hitchcock’s and Rod Serling’s dark TV dramas during the 2020 plague and election campaigns. This is one result.

-Marlow

Deaf Dwarfs in the Streets

Analogue blogger K-Nine checked his e-bank account looking for this week’s check and picked up the whispered barks of other deaf dwarfs, both digital and analogue, prattling on in their American accented wordplay to the Nth power. Satisfied that his account was replenished, he ordered another latte and monitored the café’s laptop and tablet pecking denizens. Table upon high boy table of them were there, imitating journalists, spitting out at hyper-speed their thoughts to their likers. All of them hoped that their followers (or as their sponsoring websites called them patrons) would roll on the floor in ecstatic or angry fits at their latest revelations. These blogger dwarfs could spin (more likely spit) out whole newspaper columns in mere seconds imitating and exciting their readers’ thoughts and emotions while slipping in suggestive insults regarding the ennemi du jour.

This entry level gimmick of these dwarfs always seemed to work as its amplified imitation and constant playback of their targets’ innermostness made their readers think it was their own voice. Not that they had their own a voice. The blogger dwarfs had invaded their targets’ right centers or speech centers — for example “we are in the right” — “RIGHT ON” — “We know we’re in the right so long as we hear ourselves say inside our right centers ‘I am in the right.’”

K-Nine was on special secret assignment for the Center to cover and control the plague-generated hysteria by disconnecting America’s deaf dwarfs subconscious from Center’s previous juicy narratives. Soon these insects’ brains would be enclosed in crystalline cylinders from which would run invisible wifi’ed digital wires to an array of new stories feeding the deaf dwarfs in America’s streets.

He left the café while idly surveying the street scene. He couldn’t kick the feeling that someone had goofed — America’s deaf dwarfs had for some time been separated from their common sense and human host, but now they were being spastically yanked back and forth through the streets squirming out of predicted control that Center had wanted. Spasmodics resulted with occasional unfortunates being torn or shot to pieces as they shrilly screamed. Not even the most high-tech app contrivances and 7G devices everyone carried to screen out the unwanted signals worked.

K-Nine’s mind then wandered aimlessly a bit until he returned to a long dead-end line of inquiry of his as he wondered who gave the order: “Release silent virus — blanket the world.” This silent sickness flashed round the world at nearly the speed of light. As a result of his and his fellow bloggers subsequent coverage, many citizens who had normally been nonchalant if not composed went batshit crazy straight away. To combat these conditions, that they described as “intolerable,” certain political leaders were compelled to project stern noble images from their media control centers. Invariably these leaders were drained by the gravity of this new sickness’s ever evolving evil, and they were sacrificed by the bloggers in pieces that tore them to shreds.

Thus, the bloggers ensured they were ultimate survivors as they secretly called themselves. K-Nine like the others lived in continual dread of resistance dwarfs and what was likely to be their hyper-frantic reaction to them. Sensing that at any minute a man next to them in the street might go apeshit and leap on their throats with virginal canines forced them into a continual state of hyper alertness.

Back home, K-Nine shrugged and started coding a technical — he thought “the error in resistance dwarf strategy should be obvious — they’ll use a machine learning strategy and machines can always be redirected.” He wrote his code on his grandmother’s old typewriter, so no one on the net could copy and counter his instructions until it was too late. His Underwood could not create or report anything to any others.

His operational security went even further. Employing pasted photomontages, sorta like lettered, picture and drawing hieroglyphics, he interspersed them into coded commands in a very flexible language — words, pictures, odors, images, feelings, juxtapositions, attenuations, concentrations, hues, and intensities.

His association blocks were then able to be manipulated according to the conditioning that was long ago but no longer known to college students even in America: juxtaposition of certain feelings, odors, words and images will be associated with the known desired effects rather than alleged content of the piece. He expressed these statements and end states – yes, it was fairly easy to predict what conditioned people would think see, feel and hear if you wrote the correct formula. The effects lasted for a time but were not forever. The code’s technical details, desired effect schemas, and the digital machines all had flaws and were continually overhauled, checked, altered, purged, and disconnected from one moment to the next.

He continuously declaimed to himself that it was not true that he had taken part in or instigated experiments defining pain and pleasure thresholds. He only used the abstract reports of others’ experiments to evolve his schemas of pain and pleasure association. He bore no more responsibility than a physicist working on the Trinity nuclear device.

He used still classified material from WW II war crimes trials and concentration camps and reports from Nagasaki and Hiroshima, so no guilt could be assigned.

Finishing off the day’s new code, K9 visited his load location, typed in his new lines and upon hitting “enter” crooned into his podcast device, “I’m off for Paris.”

His whole mob of patrons squealed in a deafening response that echoed back to his device. Now he could move in, observe definitive changes by setting out scanning patterns through coordinate points of the earth for the desired positive effects that Center wanted. As moments ticked by, he could see that the spiral had been arrested.

It was just another affirmation that all concepts of revenge or moral indignation must be selectively employed by the most expert blogger agents and not constantly used as a tired old injustice roadshow of incivility.

K-Nine reminded himself to let the dogs out for a piss before he departed for Europe. In his hurry to get on his trip, he forgot to check to see if anything was awry in his condo and didn’t notice that his dogs weren’t barking for him to open the door when he arrived.

The resistance had paid him an uncivil visit.

Copyright © 2020 From My Isle Seat
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