Transcription Part 2:

((There's a natural break in the notes I kept, it seems like a good idea to pause there. Something happened... someone's posting on this blog right now.))


TD: 4:01:3729

Holmes and Watson (that's what I've nicknamed the two spooks who showed up at Ruya's place almost a quarter ago) allowed me little more than a few hours of rest. I can't believe what I saw yesterday. “Don't you want to meet yourself?” he said... what a fucking jackass. So there is another me out there.. or rather out here. Another me and another Sean. Maybe their parents weren't constantly high, verbally abusive and stupid enough to lose their keys for weeks on end. Maybe they had happy childhoods and each moved into the big city and blah blah blah. Maybe. If I believe in anything, I believe in the multiverse theory, so anything is possible.

Then again, maybe not .

The air is different here. I thought at first it was their anger and frustration at my outbursts yesterday, but then they've never really cared before. No one has come since breakfast but I've been left various books and maps to study. Trying to get a hold on learning about a world that is not your own is absolutely daunting. Then again, I never studied my world's history properly. Your world.

How is it that I'm posting on the internet on this world and it is making it to yours (struck out...) mine? Maybe that's what they mean by Apparent Universal Intelligence... something is sending my words elsewhere so that they cannot be read by the people here.

Wait, if that's the case, how did the spooks see what Ruya and I wrote?

---

TD: 4:03:3729

(Struck out)Something bizarre is happening.

Something even more bizarre than usual is happening. I've been in here since 4:01:3729. I've once a day for what is now the third time and no one has come to explain what is going on or allow me to the showers. If it weren't for a toilet/sink combo in the corner (it really is like being in jail) I would be in bad shape. Trust me, your modesty is gone pretty fast when you're used to being locked up. I've been having nightmares about Ruya and me, but not Me-me. The other me. They're not particularly pretty so I'll keep them to myself but it's getting to the point where I haven't slept much.

I haven't seen a human face for nine hours now and the sound from the rest of the compound doesn't reach here. I'm almost more sure that we're underground, now.

The thing is, either it was part of my nightmare, or the room was shaking the last time I woke up. I'm not sure if it's desperation or bland hope, but I've started reading the material they left for me. I think they hoped to turn me into one of them a lot quicker, to convince me they were good guys despite holding me hostage. It's not working and I can't make myself turn off the part of my brain that says nameless spooks are never my friends. I've dealt with the nameless and the faceless before. I don't just mean the Tall Fucker, either. Sometimes when it seems really interested in people other people show up.

I don't know whether they're doing something it wishes of them or if it has a will that could be understood by anyone. Maybe they're simply drawn to something about those it is drawn to. One thing they have in common is that they're either insane or running from it. The latter don't particularly have intent to find others like them, at least not often. The former are so rarely capable of or willing to engage in speech that I could not tell you their motivations for sure. Often those who are running from it simply keep running, or at least very few believed they were able to stop and stay at the commune that I lived in. I was after all, as referenced before, The Commune Voice. (Though how they knew about that, how the spooks know about The Commune Voice is beyond me. Same way they got the posts from the blog that only goes to my world, I guess.)

The madmen are typically heralded by signs of their appearances (break-ins, stalking, destroyed property) and eventually get violent. Though, the ones who took people from the Commune were so strange. They behaved almost rationally, though their actions and abilities were inexplicable. That's all so far behind me now... now I just want to get back.

I haven't admitted that before... I want anything to be back on my world.

Then again... Ruya.

But about this morning

((Here the paper has been torn to off, about a page is missing, taken by the spooks.) )

---

TD: 4:05:3729

Today, friends, I am angry.

They burst into the cell last night. I know they were part of the spooks' organization but I've never seen any of them. They wouldn't attack me, but they were yelling. Talking about “death and destruction.” They took my notes away and stole some. I think it was just the part where I was theorizing on the shaking I felt a couple days ago. That makes me think I may've been right with one of my guesses. I'm going to go out on a limb and say the fact that they don't want me to have that information is important.

They spent almost an hour yelling at me. They sounded scared.

Something's got to give.

---

TD: 4:08:3729

I've got a hell of a story to write.

Yesterday the spooks I'm used to took me out of the compound. They told me we had work to do but given the contingent of suits (I was wearing mine... I am still wearing mine. I will probably never see the clothes I came to this world in again.) that escorted me from my cell to the garage, I think it was for my protection from the other spooks. They did not try to sedate me and they had not offered me food. Which given that I had been barely eating, was not good. My sorry ass was settled into the back seats and strapped in. When the van started I heard the radio flare and for almost five whole seconds I was treated to a news report about some kind of natural disaster.

Looking back, my stomach should have dropped out then. I should have known what was going on, they'd hinted more than enough. Now I get it, though. I also know what they meant by AUI (Apparent Universal Intelligence) and I know, or at least theorize so much more than I did this time yesterday. I almost didn't want to start writing but I received some rather peculiar encouragement. Now I know that I need to keep going or nothing will get written down.

We rode in that van for hours in silence. They didn't want me to hear that radio and after they shut it off there seemed to be a bit more tension. Given what happened on the fourth I didn't really want to risk pissing off anyone else who I was at the mercy of. Protocols or no, for all I knew they were mad enough to end me. I started to recognize the beginnings of a large city (well, large for this world) after a while and eventually I guessed we were going back to the city where I saw the Other me and the Other Sean.

I got up the courage to ask why we were there but they made it clear I wasn't going to get any answers. That's when the idea came. I was scared and I was mad and I was in a big city.

This was probably my only chance to be free.

There was some natural hesitation. I did not know what they might do to Ruya but something told me very little. I was the only thing that really concerned them. I found myself wondering if they believed anything about the Irdi Field or Ruya's supposed ability to use it to know just about anything. (I wish she had gone looking for the spooks instead of the Tall Fucker, but once I told her what it was, everything I remembered about it, she just got a look in her eyes, an idea in her head and that was it, it was over. You do not argue with a determined Ruyani.)

I started with asking them if we could roll down a window, something simple that I knew they would wave off and ignore. Each time I asked it was with an eye on as many faces as I could look at at the time. I wanted to be sure no one was reaching their breaking points. If they were going to ignore my requests, though, I was going to be persistent. Finally I turned toward the two who came to my ((struck out)) Ruya's house and addressed Watson (the shorter, slightly rounder suit) directly. “I have barely eaten in almost a week,” I forgot that the phrase “week” has no meaning in this world... “and I haven't showered in as long, I haven't been able to use the bathroom in private and I'm starting to forget what it looks like to be outside. I'm starting to forget what I have to lose by not cooperating. For God's sake, let's just stop somewhere for food.”

At first, I thought I overplayed my hand. Not a damn person responded to me. Upon reflection, the bit about forgetting what I have to lose was what did it. Holmes tapped the driver on the shoulder and gave him instructions, street names that mean nothing to me, mostly. I thought, perhaps, they were taking me to a restaurant after all. They probably should have. They would have had a lot less trouble keeping me under control somewhere inside. After a few minutes of complete silence, the van pulled to a stop. Sitting as I was, back against the front passenger's seat, I really couldn't see out of the windshield, but the side windows were telling a story.

I was seeing a lot of roadblocks, a lot of rubble and a lot of construction. I figured when we stopped they would just roll down the windows, but Watson was unhooking my harness and there was a look on his face I had never seen before. Emotion. More specifically, rage. Holmes went first out of the side door and Watson shoved me insistently out behind him. I was not restrained, I was not even being held physically.

The minute I hit the dirt I was rooted to the spot. It looked like a war zone. The rubble I saw earlier was a combination of cement, road and buildings. The construction crews were not building anything, they were checking the few remaining buildings over, like they were trying to see if they were safe. I saw police tape everywhere and no sooner had I wondered how many bodies were pulled from what looked to be several city blocks of rubble than Holmes spoke.

“This is what you have to cooperate for. You did this and you'll do it again.”

I did not think about what happened next, I just acted.

I began to shout “Help me, he has a gun,” at the top of my lungs, both in my language and in broken Kayani. I also began to run.

Where are you, Louis?

No. Where are you? Louis it's me. I got out of there before anyone noticed I was awake.

Where are you

I'm scared.

No Breadcrumbs

There was another incident last week, where I am. I wouldn't normally be comfortable saying that except that there were a LOT of disasters across the sphere last week. Scientists are scrambling, so sayeth the news. Then again, I'm finding that all out second hand as I do not know how to speak this country's native tongue.. or even what it's called.

It is 1:39:3730. If I were to try to take the time to describe their equivalent of New Years, it would be pointless, because it was disrupted by one of a series of disasters both natural and otherwise... one that is starting to affect more than small points on the sphere.

Incoming this evening in the next post are transcriptions, dated as best I could and can. I've had less time than I expected to do this, as I, or rather we, have moved twice and are putting efforts into securing something we need... covertly. This is proving to be rather impossible, but that too is a story for another time.

Earthquakes, Riots, Rebellion

To say the very least it has been an interesting few weeks. As the prior post may tip you off to, I was momentarily recaptured. Since I was recaptured in the middle of transcribing my notes none of you have any way of knowing that, to put it plainly, the world, THIS world has gotten very tense.

Once the earthquakes began in Strudit, it became apparent how poorly prepared for the government of that particular country was. The largest cities in the country, such as the one I was hiding in, are sort of in chaos. I'm elsewhere now. Hopefully elsewhere enough that it will take some time for me to be found, especially when one considers how I got here.

That is a story for another time.

I am, in fact Here, though to try to teach you where Here was I'd need to have a scanner and a map. I lack both, but know that I am not alone... I am here with myself. I am absolutely horrible at thievery and it took me several attempts to get my hands on a device that could be used to finish telling this story.

For me, I think the story may be almost done.

Like I said earlier, suicide would not undo what has been done.

That leaves two options that I can ascertain and they're both guesses, they also rely on an independent variable which I cannot affect.

I'll continue transcription and post again soon.

In direct answer to last post:

Sorry, spooks, nothing to say to you.