#think tank

It's something they worked on in 5th grade. I don't know how to do titles well. It's hard to remember things from almost 30 years ago. 27 years. jeez. Anyways I had something I wrote in my phone but I deleted it. Muahhahahaha.

There are no big milestones for me. I feel like they used me. In some form or another I made the decisions that the world was going through.

It all started with two birds one stone. It was a mission where we took out two armored vehicles with one missile. They were our own men in those vehicles who were trading uranium. I was angry. Then it all of a sudden made sense. How to do it was just to set them up. Then it was in the newspaper.

The next big event I can remember was that I predicted a stock crash in 2020. I didn't predict covid would happen. But when it started I remembered and got very scared. I knew it was in Seattle and paranoia sunk in. I spent the pandemic with $20 that I grew into $80 just riding the crash.

Then there was impeachment and taking control of the military without impediment. The attack stalled out and then I did nothing. I forgot about it. The impeachment never went through. Some warning.

Then came college. Where I would be a professor. Basically someone who hopes to become a Professor but isn't quite qualified. I learned a bit while I was there. Then there's the schizophrenia that kicks in. But the problem is that I was talking to these voices and they were listening.

There was the coincidence where I insured my television from theft where the punishment would be to pay me the cost. That's exactly what happened. I got $300. The police handed it to me. Things were taken very seriously.

I never was Biden. Although you could say he was biding his time. If anything I was controlling the Russian military. Sending them into the Ukraine. Kyiv was a bed for Hong Kong crypto currency. Stolen technology funds. I shut it down and the crypto market halved. Their payment for the stolen technology lost in dead servers. Thank you Russia. I'm sorry that you haven't achieved your objective and your own cities are under fire.

I warned Russia of the consequences but now I owe them one. I never found out anything they wanted from me. I do know there's also a Russian woman out there writing in her Tumblr like me. I just don't know for sure if it's to the same effect.

Then I got in trouble and the queen died. I'm a little worried about the king because the story goes like this. He had a wife who had a body guard. She had two sons. She wanted to get divorced so she could be with the body guard. She dies in a tunnel because of paparazzi but no one has real footage of the crash because she was in that tunnel. He killed her. Had her killed is the same thing in my book. But he's now king so I don't really trust the guy.

These instances are just me talking out loud. I read the planning in the news I study certain subjects when it comes to the news. I'll read a lot. Then something in me just clicks and I know I'm being listened to because when Russia invaded the Ukraine we set up sanctions in retaliation. It's a few things. I know I'm schizophrenic. But I also know that things just happened that way. It drove me mad with power. It demanded protection.

Then I lost those news articles. Some things slip through. Most things I ignore. It's not really my place to change our present. Preventing things is impossible as you can't change the future. You can predict it but it's hard to replicate it. All you can do is prepare for the future. Those news articles don't do anything for me anymore.

I read about Iran. But they don't talk about those key points I talk about. I know the whole story on it and the public thinks it's something completely different and I believe that there just isn't any sense in communicating anymore.

Chapter 10: A Holy Curiosity

General Wellesley sent word that the Army was pulling their contract for the Securitrons, effective immediately. The words on the terminal were like kerosene, and Klein, an open flame. The head scientist was ablaze with a rage so hot that Mobius had to retreat to the refuge of his own home, counting down the hours until Klein would finally simmer down. Until then, Mobius kept himself occupied with stamping out the fires that 0 started, one by one. There was the fate of Model One. He fought back the temptation to scrap the giant robot all together. What engineer would want to work on something that killed half a dozen colleagues? Had Mobius been superstitious, he would’ve considered One cursed. But One was just a defective machine, created by a man whose ego and incompetence led to disastrous results. And now with the contract gone, the robot was simply too expensive to scrap. The decision among the executives was unanimous. One was to be sent back to the Securitron Plant in order to run offline diagnostics by what was left of 0’s engineering team. As for the Plant itself, they had voted to shelve the Securitron project all together, ignoring 0’s meek protests, in hopes of salvaging the mess and repurposing the Plant in the future. And then there was that other fire Mobius had insisted that he put out himself. His wrist ached from the blocky signatures added to each condolence letter, to be delivered to the mailboxes of their dead employees’ families. He had dragged on the process for far too long, avoiding giving the final stamp of approval as he sent back his secretaries’ drafts for a number of nitpicky revisions. The words never seemed to convey the right meaning, and felt dry and superficial on his tongue when he spoke them aloud in the quiet of his office. Our deepest condolences? Our apologies barely scratch the surface. Shallow platitudes in a place where Death holds no meaning. We are truly sorry for your loss. A bald-faced lie if there ever was one. We regret- What regret? Work continues on, same as it always has and always will. That their employees died for absolutely nothing. No amount of regret could ever change that. And with the classified nature of their research, their families will never know the reason why, their deaths a mystery beneath the mountain. Lifetimes of memories, reduced to a letter and a box of cremated remains.