.quotes.
CHAPTER I
Work-work-work-work-die. You’d think I was a protestant.
CHAPTER II
Some would say I’m paranoid... perhaps justifiably. I tried to stir up the office on more than one occasion: Chinese troop movements. Satellite shots of active Soviet bunkers. Waco. The Heaven’s Gate Comet. The 2000 elections. Hell, I’d laugh at me, too... But how many software engineers got fat from Y2K? How many of us were siphoned off by the banks and the military, NDA’s in hand, to tweak digits ‘til the eleventh hour? We save their asses, and the news called it a non-event. I slept until March after that non-event. But I’m awake now... and still not a morning person.
---------------
It’s nighttime, and I’m courting the backdoor of my company’s mainframe. Pun intended. If they want to fuck with me, I can fuck right back. Sandpaper condom... no lube... bus fair if you smile.
---------------
“Did you see me? I was so high. Came so close... I almost touched them. I almost touched the stars.”
CHAPTER VI
The doc then asked if I experienced any other symptoms. I neglected to explain how it’s impossible for a computer to do what mine did. I neglected to describe the haunting dreams of faces and places I had never seen, but somehow knew were important. I neglected to inform him that my senses of smell, hearing, and touch seemed jacked beyond all believe since I woke up. Let’s face it... I was neglectful.
---------------
Explain to me how push-ups and Stairmaster will prevent anal leakage. Fucking hump. But the costs are covered by work. Work I might lose because I decided to play snoopy. No more free shit coffee to keep me productive. No more ‘peeler lunches’ with dickless managers. No more vacation days that I’m pressured to bank until it’s ‘strategically feasible’. C’mon... I’m sure there’s a downside here somewhere.
---------------
I love that moment of giddy anticipation before you get what you want. Soon I’ll have a sore throat, dry mouth, stained fingers, and a benzene headache... But right now, at this moment, my whole existence rests on the tip of this cigarette. God bless the cancer merchants. I’m getting what I want.
CHAPTER VII
My senses are conspiring. Usurping mind. Micro-moments flooded with infinite streams. Neurons charged with invisible truths fire in sick rhythm. I am a 6-foot broadband receiver. Dial my skin past the static to WGOD. All news. All the time. New and improved ROD and CONE bundles for your high-def viewing. Down with infra. Tight with ultra. HONED LIKE MOTHERUCKING HUBBLE.
---------------
But who watches? Who witnesses? Who lives in my head? Who flushes their disease into me? Am I infected? Is it my fault?
---------------
Cells are multiplying. Again and again and again. I can hear them. They’re plotting. My soul has CANCER. First no thing. Then some thing. Divide and conquer. Fuck and kill. I exist. This is happening. And it’s the same every night. Reality cannot be random. It is a coded dream.
We are the code... that also dreams. Code cracking code cracking code. Deciphering the sleeper.
---------------
These are the thoughts I am having. Out of the ether springs idea. From the vacuum arises dream. I am awake... but the dream unfolds in code. What happens when I decipher the sleeper? What happens to me... when God wakes up?
CHAPTER IX
“Do you like working for us, Mr. Matthews? Does the job satisfy you?”
About as much as your mom did last night.
“Sure. No complaints.”
CHAPTER XIII
I am not asleep. I woke up at five this morning. Ungodly. Shit: Crunch the bowels and drop a squadron of concentrated toxins into the sewer - my contribution to future generations. Shower: Rub and lather and scrape and peel the filth off. There are still millions of microscopic parasites doing the cling ‘n’ suck, but at least you’ve covered your scent. Shave: Take a 4-inch molded plastic handle topped with tiny parallel scalpels and drag it across your face. Use small squares of ass-wipe and dab at the seepage.
So there I am - neck covered in minature Japanese flags - when I get the buzz. Jarhead here is early. I race downstairs... and the fucker pats me down thoroughly before I get into the car.
So it’s true - men that use guns like to play with them too.
Cockhound.
---------------
Lear - A BIOCOM founder. No brainer, as lots of projects pay homage to their codenames.
Spec - I’m guessing that this has something to do with what i found in Palmer’s raw files --- the specs being multiple sets of three numbers --- coordinates.
Silo - And here’s the ball shrinker... knowing my destination. A norad facility. V.F.S.I. Valhalla first-strike installation. ‘First strike’... Silo... Motherfucker.
I’ve read about this place - a blur of fact and fiction. Supposedly it was old Hopi Indian territory... a deep series of cathedral-like caves. The brass moved in after WWII and started fortifying for the Cold War. Some say it’s like Mt. Weather in Vermont - an underground city, built to save the best and brightest in the event of an all-out nuke-fest. Others claim that it’s connected to a network of bases across the continent by a complex series of high-speed subterranean shuttles. Like pneumatic tubes... with Area 51 as the hub.
---------------
Welcome to the Death Star... table for one?
CHAPTER XIV
“So take a look - you’re in America now. Here, men have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of assholicness. If they’re not boozers, or drug addicts, or porn-freaks, or money-grubbing cheaters, then they’re plain old fucking jerks. It may not be like that back in Babylon, but I wouldn’t know. Your dad hasn’t let your mom out of her veil long enough to tell me.”
CHAPTER XV
“I had to tell myself each second that I was still alive - that if I forced each breath in and out, things would be okay - that it wasn’t all hopeless. I was in the hospital for awhile. They gave me pills - I wouldn’t take them. I haven’t really been the same since. My brain’s in overdrive. Can’t sleep, or keep much food down. Sometimes I hear voices.”
---------------
“Don’t stress, man... Words just get in the way. That’s why I use them.”
---------------
“I used to mock words like those - but after that night, my mind... changed. It was insatiable. I couldn’t feed it enough data. I was memorizing phone books for fun. With one long look, I could tell you how many hairs were on your head - plus or minus a hundred. Too bad your bald. I could use the distraction.”
---------------
“Gifts are curses... obligations. ‘With great power come great responsibilities.’ At least that’s what Uncle Ben told Spider-Man.”
---------------
“The grass is always greener. I’d sell my soul right now for a Mars Bar served on the navel of a blonde gymnast. But then, I’d still have obligations... wouldn’t I?”
CHAPTER XVII
“The army is here. In the streets... and the sky. They will want to remove evidence... bury their bones. We must hurry.”
“Hurry and what... run out to greet them? Prance around and wave our little white flags in the air? ‘Yes sir, we knew too much, sir. Sorry we’re not dead, sir. Thank you for destroying my livelihood and personal effects, sir. Now, what caliber of bullet will you be putting between my fucking eyes, sir!?’”
---------------
“We will either flee to taste another day... or they will find us and kill us.”
“You say it like you’re ordering from a menu. Doesn’t this frighten you at all?”
“I am not afraid to die.”
“Oh, of course not... But I’ve done a few bad things. For all I know, my Sunday School teacher was right, and I’ll hang ten on a lake of fire. But you... You must be aching to get snuffed.”
“What are you saying?”
“‘That’s right, Allah... Tell him what he’s won! Well, for being a good martyr, our Oran gets a garden palace, rivers of milk and honey, and 72 virgin nymphos! The afterlife... it’s Islam-tastic!’”
CHAPTER XIX
“I say we got pants and we got presidents in these pants. We wanna hit the pink... Wanna party before the curfew ass-fucks us. Army can suck my dick - Right, G? Right, G...?”
“Yes. Suck my dick.”
---------------
“You are going to get the girl and tell me what I want to know now, or I will fill your computers with gig after inhuman gig of child pornography. I will flood the FBI with perfect shots of you touching little boys of every age and creed-sent from your e-mail address, and I will smile when I think of the prison brothers prying you open and turning your ass into a gaping, bloody parking space. I can do it. In minutes. From anywhere. Believe it.”
CHAPTER XX
There are two ways to look at it. If the brain is the hardware, then reality is the software it interprets. So, a trip is like you tweaking the box. Over-clocking your CPU. I think that’s narcissistic. I think that reality is the hardware... that the universe is the most complex and powerful processor imaginable... and that we’re all just programs that run on it. Bargain-bin SIMS. God’s shareware.
---------------
“i have a last wish. i want a moment. i want to capture it... give it to you. i want you to look up at the sky... stare into the Heavenly kingdom... and know that i am there... watching over you.”
“i was outside your window last night... in the tree... were you watching then? did you see?”
“oh Ray...”
“i got so high. came so close. i almost touched them. i almost touched the stars.”
CHAPTER XXII
“I was party to a BIOCOM/NATO joint-venture, fusing soldiers with microchips at an underground base bear Coast City. The chips were designed not only to track the men, but also interfere with low frequency signals to the brain - specifically, its fear center.”
---------------
“We now know that the chips were designed to protect the brain from the effects of a crippling ELF signal like the one I experienced. The satellite network will broadcast it, holographic and laser projectors will beam it into the stratosphere, and millions will theoretically collapse in terror as the chipped soldiers march in unaffected. Theoretically.”
CHAPTER XIV
“So you want to kill the system? I can’t say I blame you. The world’s gone to shit and it needs a flush... But are you going to somehow crash the stock market? And unplug the media? And kill every soldier, politician, and pontiff on the planet...? Because that is what you’d have to do.”
“Yes. I will do that... and so much more. In less than one hour the network will broadcast. It will not be regional, as my partner was led to believe - it will be global. The PRISMATEK ray will herald its genesis... The COGENT device will propagate it... And the IMMAXON chip...? It will burrow into the minds of the wicked... Their fear of God will claim them... And the meek will watch them fall.”
---------------
“The world has changed, Raimi. We heard the reports. The mournings and the celebrations. The mass disarmaments and pledges of peace. I am afraid... I am afraid they might forget.”
“But that’s where Lear had it right. Buddha and Jesus and Mohammed... they played the telephone game. Their lessons were word-of-mouth. Their truths got diluted. A rare few experienced them. But the broadcast was different... People didn’t just see it or hear it, Oran... they lived it. The system converted emotion into information. The data rode on ELF waves directly into the brains of over six billion people. It was a digital rapture... and I recorded it. The data is here. The network is live. We have the codes. They might forget, Oran... but we can remind them.”
Work-work-work-work-die. You’d think I was a protestant.
CHAPTER II
Some would say I’m paranoid... perhaps justifiably. I tried to stir up the office on more than one occasion: Chinese troop movements. Satellite shots of active Soviet bunkers. Waco. The Heaven’s Gate Comet. The 2000 elections. Hell, I’d laugh at me, too... But how many software engineers got fat from Y2K? How many of us were siphoned off by the banks and the military, NDA’s in hand, to tweak digits ‘til the eleventh hour? We save their asses, and the news called it a non-event. I slept until March after that non-event. But I’m awake now... and still not a morning person.
---------------
It’s nighttime, and I’m courting the backdoor of my company’s mainframe. Pun intended. If they want to fuck with me, I can fuck right back. Sandpaper condom... no lube... bus fair if you smile.
---------------
“Did you see me? I was so high. Came so close... I almost touched them. I almost touched the stars.”
CHAPTER VI
The doc then asked if I experienced any other symptoms. I neglected to explain how it’s impossible for a computer to do what mine did. I neglected to describe the haunting dreams of faces and places I had never seen, but somehow knew were important. I neglected to inform him that my senses of smell, hearing, and touch seemed jacked beyond all believe since I woke up. Let’s face it... I was neglectful.
---------------
Explain to me how push-ups and Stairmaster will prevent anal leakage. Fucking hump. But the costs are covered by work. Work I might lose because I decided to play snoopy. No more free shit coffee to keep me productive. No more ‘peeler lunches’ with dickless managers. No more vacation days that I’m pressured to bank until it’s ‘strategically feasible’. C’mon... I’m sure there’s a downside here somewhere.
---------------
I love that moment of giddy anticipation before you get what you want. Soon I’ll have a sore throat, dry mouth, stained fingers, and a benzene headache... But right now, at this moment, my whole existence rests on the tip of this cigarette. God bless the cancer merchants. I’m getting what I want.
CHAPTER VII
My senses are conspiring. Usurping mind. Micro-moments flooded with infinite streams. Neurons charged with invisible truths fire in sick rhythm. I am a 6-foot broadband receiver. Dial my skin past the static to WGOD. All news. All the time. New and improved ROD and CONE bundles for your high-def viewing. Down with infra. Tight with ultra. HONED LIKE MOTHERUCKING HUBBLE.
---------------
But who watches? Who witnesses? Who lives in my head? Who flushes their disease into me? Am I infected? Is it my fault?
---------------
Cells are multiplying. Again and again and again. I can hear them. They’re plotting. My soul has CANCER. First no thing. Then some thing. Divide and conquer. Fuck and kill. I exist. This is happening. And it’s the same every night. Reality cannot be random. It is a coded dream.
We are the code... that also dreams. Code cracking code cracking code. Deciphering the sleeper.
---------------
These are the thoughts I am having. Out of the ether springs idea. From the vacuum arises dream. I am awake... but the dream unfolds in code. What happens when I decipher the sleeper? What happens to me... when God wakes up?
CHAPTER IX
“Do you like working for us, Mr. Matthews? Does the job satisfy you?”
About as much as your mom did last night.
“Sure. No complaints.”
CHAPTER XIII
I am not asleep. I woke up at five this morning. Ungodly. Shit: Crunch the bowels and drop a squadron of concentrated toxins into the sewer - my contribution to future generations. Shower: Rub and lather and scrape and peel the filth off. There are still millions of microscopic parasites doing the cling ‘n’ suck, but at least you’ve covered your scent. Shave: Take a 4-inch molded plastic handle topped with tiny parallel scalpels and drag it across your face. Use small squares of ass-wipe and dab at the seepage.
So there I am - neck covered in minature Japanese flags - when I get the buzz. Jarhead here is early. I race downstairs... and the fucker pats me down thoroughly before I get into the car.
So it’s true - men that use guns like to play with them too.
Cockhound.
---------------
Lear - A BIOCOM founder. No brainer, as lots of projects pay homage to their codenames.
Spec - I’m guessing that this has something to do with what i found in Palmer’s raw files --- the specs being multiple sets of three numbers --- coordinates.
Silo - And here’s the ball shrinker... knowing my destination. A norad facility. V.F.S.I. Valhalla first-strike installation. ‘First strike’... Silo... Motherfucker.
I’ve read about this place - a blur of fact and fiction. Supposedly it was old Hopi Indian territory... a deep series of cathedral-like caves. The brass moved in after WWII and started fortifying for the Cold War. Some say it’s like Mt. Weather in Vermont - an underground city, built to save the best and brightest in the event of an all-out nuke-fest. Others claim that it’s connected to a network of bases across the continent by a complex series of high-speed subterranean shuttles. Like pneumatic tubes... with Area 51 as the hub.
---------------
Welcome to the Death Star... table for one?
CHAPTER XIV
“So take a look - you’re in America now. Here, men have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of assholicness. If they’re not boozers, or drug addicts, or porn-freaks, or money-grubbing cheaters, then they’re plain old fucking jerks. It may not be like that back in Babylon, but I wouldn’t know. Your dad hasn’t let your mom out of her veil long enough to tell me.”
CHAPTER XV
“I had to tell myself each second that I was still alive - that if I forced each breath in and out, things would be okay - that it wasn’t all hopeless. I was in the hospital for awhile. They gave me pills - I wouldn’t take them. I haven’t really been the same since. My brain’s in overdrive. Can’t sleep, or keep much food down. Sometimes I hear voices.”
---------------
“Don’t stress, man... Words just get in the way. That’s why I use them.”
---------------
“I used to mock words like those - but after that night, my mind... changed. It was insatiable. I couldn’t feed it enough data. I was memorizing phone books for fun. With one long look, I could tell you how many hairs were on your head - plus or minus a hundred. Too bad your bald. I could use the distraction.”
---------------
“Gifts are curses... obligations. ‘With great power come great responsibilities.’ At least that’s what Uncle Ben told Spider-Man.”
---------------
“The grass is always greener. I’d sell my soul right now for a Mars Bar served on the navel of a blonde gymnast. But then, I’d still have obligations... wouldn’t I?”
CHAPTER XVII
“The army is here. In the streets... and the sky. They will want to remove evidence... bury their bones. We must hurry.”
“Hurry and what... run out to greet them? Prance around and wave our little white flags in the air? ‘Yes sir, we knew too much, sir. Sorry we’re not dead, sir. Thank you for destroying my livelihood and personal effects, sir. Now, what caliber of bullet will you be putting between my fucking eyes, sir!?’”
---------------
“We will either flee to taste another day... or they will find us and kill us.”
“You say it like you’re ordering from a menu. Doesn’t this frighten you at all?”
“I am not afraid to die.”
“Oh, of course not... But I’ve done a few bad things. For all I know, my Sunday School teacher was right, and I’ll hang ten on a lake of fire. But you... You must be aching to get snuffed.”
“What are you saying?”
“‘That’s right, Allah... Tell him what he’s won! Well, for being a good martyr, our Oran gets a garden palace, rivers of milk and honey, and 72 virgin nymphos! The afterlife... it’s Islam-tastic!’”
CHAPTER XIX
“I say we got pants and we got presidents in these pants. We wanna hit the pink... Wanna party before the curfew ass-fucks us. Army can suck my dick - Right, G? Right, G...?”
“Yes. Suck my dick.”
---------------
“You are going to get the girl and tell me what I want to know now, or I will fill your computers with gig after inhuman gig of child pornography. I will flood the FBI with perfect shots of you touching little boys of every age and creed-sent from your e-mail address, and I will smile when I think of the prison brothers prying you open and turning your ass into a gaping, bloody parking space. I can do it. In minutes. From anywhere. Believe it.”
CHAPTER XX
There are two ways to look at it. If the brain is the hardware, then reality is the software it interprets. So, a trip is like you tweaking the box. Over-clocking your CPU. I think that’s narcissistic. I think that reality is the hardware... that the universe is the most complex and powerful processor imaginable... and that we’re all just programs that run on it. Bargain-bin SIMS. God’s shareware.
---------------
“i have a last wish. i want a moment. i want to capture it... give it to you. i want you to look up at the sky... stare into the Heavenly kingdom... and know that i am there... watching over you.”
“i was outside your window last night... in the tree... were you watching then? did you see?”
“oh Ray...”
“i got so high. came so close. i almost touched them. i almost touched the stars.”
CHAPTER XXII
“I was party to a BIOCOM/NATO joint-venture, fusing soldiers with microchips at an underground base bear Coast City. The chips were designed not only to track the men, but also interfere with low frequency signals to the brain - specifically, its fear center.”
---------------
“We now know that the chips were designed to protect the brain from the effects of a crippling ELF signal like the one I experienced. The satellite network will broadcast it, holographic and laser projectors will beam it into the stratosphere, and millions will theoretically collapse in terror as the chipped soldiers march in unaffected. Theoretically.”
CHAPTER XIV
“So you want to kill the system? I can’t say I blame you. The world’s gone to shit and it needs a flush... But are you going to somehow crash the stock market? And unplug the media? And kill every soldier, politician, and pontiff on the planet...? Because that is what you’d have to do.”
“Yes. I will do that... and so much more. In less than one hour the network will broadcast. It will not be regional, as my partner was led to believe - it will be global. The PRISMATEK ray will herald its genesis... The COGENT device will propagate it... And the IMMAXON chip...? It will burrow into the minds of the wicked... Their fear of God will claim them... And the meek will watch them fall.”
---------------
“The world has changed, Raimi. We heard the reports. The mournings and the celebrations. The mass disarmaments and pledges of peace. I am afraid... I am afraid they might forget.”
“But that’s where Lear had it right. Buddha and Jesus and Mohammed... they played the telephone game. Their lessons were word-of-mouth. Their truths got diluted. A rare few experienced them. But the broadcast was different... People didn’t just see it or hear it, Oran... they lived it. The system converted emotion into information. The data rode on ELF waves directly into the brains of over six billion people. It was a digital rapture... and I recorded it. The data is here. The network is live. We have the codes. They might forget, Oran... but we can remind them.”