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Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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Notification of temporal slippage

Four different people today, including one in an entirely different state, thought it was Thursday today instead of Wednesday. For that matter, so did I. Just letting you know there's been a change in the Matrix. Anybody else? Dream any strange dreams lately?

Also, I have a pair of pants in limbo. Not the official Limbo, which is being retconned out of existence, but mail limbo. After I ordered them, they were rejected from the post office on the basis of having a terrorist-like radioactive symbol on the packaging, and now all tracking numbers indicate they're in Pennsylvania somewhere. If, indeed, they ever existed to begin with.

Further also, there's an increasing slurry of spam in my gmailbox from the severed head of John the Baptist. I know it's just random data, but when I read it, I hear the voice of the Machine trying to speak itself into reality, and I think that maybe people shouldn't tamper with things that give the Machine a voice.

Racquel Hernandes <hernand@freemail.com>to me:
bastard. Mark Two. What in heavens name are you talking about? asked the senator, laughing as he spoke into the phone. Or should I say, whats Al Armbruster trying to pull? He doesnt need my sup port on the new bill and he wouldnt get it if he did. He was a jackass in Saigon and hes a jackass now, but hes got the majority vote. Were not talking about votes, Senator. Were talking about Snake Lady! The only snakes I knew in Saigon were jerks like Alby who crawled around the city pretending to know all the answers when there werent any. ... Who the hell are you anyway? In Vienna, Virginia, Alex Conklin replaced the telephone. Misfire Three.

Madyson Pieper <piepeymadyso@puritec.com>to me:
Damn you, what did he learn? Well, as I say, his hourly rate was beyond belief, I mean it really invaded the corpus of my own well-deserved retainer, so I think we should discuss an adjustment, dont you? Who the hell do you think you are? I sent you three thousand dollars! Five hundred for the telephone man and fifteen hundred for that miserable keyhole slime who calls himself a private detective- Only because hes no longer on the public payroll of the police department, Randolph. Like me, he fell from grace, but he obviously does very good work. Do we negotiate or do I leave? In fury, the balding imperious professor of law stared at the gray-faced old disbarred and dishonored attorney in front of him. How dare you?

Florin Ogburn <florin@hbwm.com>to me:
To hell with them! Theyre on my back burner! Youre not on theirs. You cracked their shell. They want you. I couldnt care less. I told you yesterday, Ive only got one priority and hes in Paris, square one in Argenteuil. Then I havent been clear, said Alex, his voice faint, the tone defeated. Last night I had dinner with Mo. I told him everything. Tranquility, your flying to Paris, Bernardine ... everything! A former judge of the first circuit court, residing in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America, stood among the small gathering of mourners on the flat surface of the highest hill on Tranquility Isle. The cemetery was the final resting place-in voce verbatim via amicus curiae, as he legally explained to the authorities on Montserrat. Brendan Patrick Pierre Prefontaine watched as the two splendid coffins

Tai Tidmore <taie@chatt.net>to me:
read the scenario, what youre suggesting is based on the questionable supposition that whoever fired at you last night in tended to miss, not caring whom he hit, only determined to take you alive during the subsequent chaos. Thats a couple of leaps- Based on a couple of dozen operations Ive been involved with both here and at the Department of the Navy and in places you couldnt pronounce or know anything about. The directors elbows were planted on the arms of his chair, his voice suddenly harsh, commanding. For your information, Conklin, I didnt suddenly bloom as a gold-braided admiral running naval intelligence. I was in the SEALs for a few years and made runs off submarines into Kaesong and later into Haiphong harbor. I knew a number of those Medusa pricks, and I cant think of one that I didnt


I can't translate the mecha-babble, but the message is clear: It is desperately important to the Illuminati that I REMAIN ROCK-HARD FOR HOURS AND HOURS. If only I knew... why?

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Glitches and other strange Machines

Wow. That is some crazy shit. Have I ever told you that I can spot crazy at 100 yards? I can. It's saved my ass enough times that I don't ignore it when the radar goes off. Like yesterday when some man wanted to play the, "I bet I can get you to say a word you hadn't intended to say game. Wanna play?" Call me a supersticious writer--or at least a terrible speller-- but Words gots power, and I told him no. It made me think of a program that tries to go in the back door by tricking you to give up the password. I said nothing to him and he eventually went on his way.

you better figure it out. a man ain't nuthin' wit'out his pants!

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