It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.

Please white-list or disable AboveTopSecret.com in your ad-blocking tool.

Thank you.

 

Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.

 

Fin De Siècle [D&R]

page: 1
2

log in

join
share:

posted on Dec, 28 2011 @ 05:27 AM
link   
Fin De Siècle



It all started in March of 2012. The conspiratorial crowd was not surprised. Everyone remembered Alex Jones breaking down in tears, begging humanity to wake up. Unfortunately for us, the sheeple (that pesky blend of sheep and people) preferred their Black Mondays. With a stepping-stone approach, our freedoms were taken away faster than ever. Airports. The Internet. And, sadly, families inculcated into accepting the new police state, creating a defensive barrier in their minds, refusing to accept their inevitable demise.

Virtually all conspiracy researchers were arrested. Nobody saw them again. It was clear to everyone the worst was yet to come. The camps were no longer a figment of a deranged imagination. The Guide stones were right all along.

The military was supposed to protect the civilians; unfortunately, under the new world order, the soldiers had no problems with killing anyone who was a potential (read: actual) terrorist. A de facto martial law was declared and all of the survivalist groups went crazy

Indeed, the Earth finally became what the Controllers had wanted all along: a Communist paradise with masses so dumbed-down, so neutered, there was just no escape. As one CDC professor put it most eloquently, ''the camps were to serve as cordons sanitaires.'' But this time, the disease was humanity itself. The hybridized elite considered itself intellectually superior to hoi polloi; as a matter of fact, the Elite considered themselves a different species entirely.

The results of the game were clear. Pathocratic panopticon dystopia : one. Humanity : null.

I knew the only viable solution was to look within - and that was precisely what I did. Meandering between intellectual extremists, ranging from militant atheists to New Age ''Namaste'' hippy chicks, I knew I had to find my own path. The task was not simple, but the biggest obstacle of all was my own conditioned mind, that pesky little voice trying to stop me.

Fortunately, with all the mess happening around the planet, even the conditioned mind realized it had been duped.

I was given a mental green light to do what I had always known to be right: follow my intuition. It may sound navel-contemplating to some, but I learned certain meta-physical aspects could seriously enhance our corporeal existence.

Last chance to escape the Matrix. The very term ''Matrix'', that profound concept, was just another example of how TPTB manipulated our perception. Akin to a mass-mind control experiment, they had devised a method of gauging our collective awareness threshold. They hijacked the concept itself, skewed it, simplified it. The public swallowed the BS. Hook, line, and sinker.

Many forms of escape existed. Let's analyze them:

1. Live off-the-grid.

2. Perhaps it would be better if I convinced myself FEMA camps were just neat little places?

3. Perhaps I could count on that village in France, with friendly aliens coming to save us?

There were many other options, all fundamentally flawed.

Suicide. The only viable option. The ultimate frontier. Sui. Cide. From Latin. I had no desire to analyze all the tenets. I knew enough.

I was fortunate enough to have bought an euthanasia device from Switzerland.

''Damn it,'' I burst out laughing. ''Time to attach the wires!''

That was the most absurd moment of my life. Filled with grotesqueness and surrounded by travesty, I withered away.

''Ghost busters!'' spasms of laughter continued. For the life of me, I had no idea what the heck ghost busters were crossing my mind for in the last seconds of bodily existence.

''We're all just learning how to survive in infinity.''

Then, there I was. I saw the light. What a boring moment. At first, all sorts of theories kept bouncing around in my mind, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. There was no life review. There were no angels.

And yet, I knew it.

I was dead. Or, if you prefer the PC version, I passed away.

All-encompassing blackness, with no sounds, with no air. Pitch black. Despite my open-mindedness, I was terrified. I really thought I had entered hell itself.

''Could all those videos...'' I muttered to myself. ''23 minutes in hell.. Mary Baxter..?''

Could all those pseudo-preachers have been right?

The initial joy hereafter existed was squelched by the unimaginable, almost catatonic, fear.

''God.. Jesus... God... Jesus,'' I started praying. A declared non-denominatee, praying.

In a Matrix-ish fashion, I landed in London. I had always wanted to visit London, but never got a chance to do it in the flesh.

There was something amiss, however. Something I could not quite put my finger on.

''No station names!'' I exclaimed, temporarily forgetting about what had just happened. ''There are no #ing station names!''

''This train terminates at Westminster,'' a female spoke with that posh British accent.

Humor was probably my feeble attempt at maintaining composure. So far, to my utter surprise, it was an effective strategy. The tube whisked forward. I remained hyper-vigilant; part of my mind thought I had been existentially trolled; the other part considered me as the prime creator of that bizarre version of what could have been hell itself.

''This station is,'' the female voice proclaimed. ''Westminster.''
''Time to look around and make some sense out of this.''
''ALL CHANGE, PLEASE! THIS TRAIN WILL NOW TERMINATE HERE!'' a bolder message could be heard.
I exited the tube and scanned the immediate environment.
''If this really is Westminster, then it's gotta have that futuristic stuff,'' I thought to myself. ''Time to check it out.''
Sure enough, there it was. An escalator surrounded by metallic beams.
''YOU!'' I heard a scream. ''IDENTIFY YOURSELF!''
Every vein in my ethereal body was pumping adrenaline. I saw a crowd of people wagging their fingers at me from the top of the escalator. One of them, a tall Caucasian man with a leaderly aura to him, dashed in my direction.
''Oh #..'' I ran back to the tube. ''What's going on here..''
''Wait!'' the individual yelled. ''I'M THE OVERSEER!''
''Overseer?'' I quickly connected the word with a concept no other than the infamous Monarch Programming.
I managed to get to the train.
''GO. NOW!''
The tube whisked away.
''Thank you!'' I raised my arms upwards. ''THANK YOU!''
My mind was racing, to say the least. Not knowing why, I suspected I had just witnessed the unthinkable: an insight into the mind of a mind-controlled slave. Imagine having countless alters, countless personalities, created as a result of prolonged trauma. The condition known as DID - dissociative identity disorder.
Conspiracy people analyzed the Goodchilds, the Thomases, and the Yahwehs, but did they ever analyze the nitty-gritty? The very existence of social mores might actually prove the existence of the powers that be! Was it by design? How about the reversal of colors, when pink was masculine and blue was feminine? Did you know about that? Look how easy it was, and very much is, to brainwash people. The reptile always was in the detail. Or, to be more precise, in the R-Complex. A heuristic educational model would have made sure all the answers were easier to find... but I digress.
After initial panic was over (I was dead, after all!), I decided to go back to the Overseer. I wanted to know more. Was it possible all these alters had become separate personalities?




posted on Dec, 28 2011 @ 05:29 AM
link   
Individuals ready to embark on their own empirical adventures?
My curiosity finally got the better of me.
I arrived at Westminster. There they were, waiting, just like an ensemble of idiosyncratic commuters.
The Overseer stepped forward.
''You are from where?'' he asked me.
''I'm from this train right now,'' I replied, not even knowing why.
''We are stuck here,'' he continued. ''We all have our own worlds. Our own languages.''
''The boundaries of your language are the boundaries of your world,'' I nodded vigorously. ''Sapir-Whorf.''
''We want to go away,'' the individual said. ''We have been here for too long. Help us.''
''How?'' I asked.
''We need syntax,'' I heard a reply.
''Syntax,'' I thought to myself. ''Why would you use this word here..''
And then, it hit me. An epiphany.
''You want order!'' I exclaimed. ''You want each part, each life, to experience order! You want to make it all individual!''
The Overseer nodded.
''This one,'' he pointed at a young cat. ''This one is Beta. That one, there, is Omega. That one.. good with money. We will need a lot of money. A lot of energy, because money is energy. Free us.''
''I don't know how,'' I leaned forward and shook my head.
''Integrate us,'' the Overseer asserted.
''There are three ways in which you are perceived,'' I said, spurred by the moment. ''How you perceive yourself. How others perceive you. And how you would like others to perceive you. This is the foundation of everything. If you can manipulate that, the rest is a mere consequence.''
The Overseer looked at me, and grinned.
In a split second, their consensus reality collapsed. They were gone, never to be seen again.




posted on Dec, 28 2011 @ 06:55 AM
link   
reply to post by survivaloftheslickest
 
I really enjoyed this - well done.



posted on Dec, 30 2011 @ 05:18 PM
link   

Originally posted by Kandinsky
reply to post by survivaloftheslickest
 
I really enjoyed this - well done.




Always good to unleash inner creative demons




top topics
 
2

log in

join