1
A man presses his hand against his daughter’s forehead. Hot. Too hot. She needs food, meat to be precise. Her mother works to keep the fire ablaze, the smoke painting the cave roof black with soot. The man’s brother found this cave before he… keep back the tears. No tears. Not here.
This cave is the only refuge for days, unless you wish to brave the snow. His family will not, his daughter won’t make it. But she has to make it. If she fails, he will too. And so he pulls the beast skin taught around him, the woolly barrier all that lies between him and the ice.
Spear in hand, he swears his return to his lover. He promises that their daughter will eat today. One step out of the cave, and the winds already confront him. They laugh at him, taunt him with their wicked cackling. He ignores them. They will not save his daughter, and so they are of no concern to him.
The man tries to hunt, but it’s hard to do when neither prey nor predator are about. They would be crazy to be out in the snow at this time, but the man has no choice. The memories begin to trickle back to him. His brother, laughing. He promised the meat for his niece. He promised his return. Promises broken by the cold.
A call sounds from beyond a hill. The man halts, for he knows that cry. Slowly emerging over the hill, he sees it. He sees the deadly tusks. He sees the powerful trunk and feet. He sees the delicious meat. He will not break his promise.
A roar answers a call. David answers Goliath. The rage against the snow, the grief for his brother, the hope for his daughter. All these things, the man channels into his spear. He releases his grip and the weapon begins its own hunt. He knows his aim is true.
___________
2
A quick swing of his scythe, and the stalk tumbles. Golden grasses spread out as far as the eye can see, the barn just barely visible in the distance. The farmer can hear his farmhands nearby, their own tools harvesting the hard-earned wheat. He will of course keep some for his family, and the farmhands will receive their share, but the rest he will sell. To whom? He does not care.
The wagon carrying the grown gold makes its way past the now empty fields, and playing children wave to the man at the helm, all the while giving the horses a wide berth. The driver does some quick calculations in his head and smiles, the price he paid for the wheat will be more than paid off by the Lord. Another great profit this year, as long as they can prepare in time.
All through the night, and the next day, and the next again, his family works, even the young one joining in. The kids cheer and holler as the final batch begins to bake, and the man’s wife gives him a proud kiss on the cheek. They’ll make their deadline after all.
Another wagon, this time with guards. The man didn’t even bother watching them depart, he knew that they wouldn't let anything happen to the edible treasure. Slowly making their way up the winding street towards the castle ground, the guards make sure to form a path through the commoners.
Arriving at the grand gate, the wagon halts as its merchandise is investigated. None shall dare steal from the Lord. Except maybe the young soldier, sneaking a single loaf while his superior is distracted. He will feast well tonight.
A feast indeed, though not for him. The dozens chefs work as one, everything must be perfect for tonight, not a single undercooked potato, not even a slightly charred fish. The bread is sliced and split and soaked. It is the foundation upon which the feast (and the chefs’ careers) depend.
The Lord smiles in his seat, his children to his left, advisers to the right, honoured guests at the far end. They all stand, awaiting his blessing, stealing glances at the buffet which their Lord so graciously ordered. He smiles and proclaims the beginning, and the wheat finds its purpose.
___________
3
Her majesty will not be disappointed, not with the captain, and not with her crew. They had been sailing for months now, and supplies were beginning to run low. Oh well, the captain thought, suck it up! Her majesty heard tales of this land, and they shall find it for her.
Tempers running high, and shouts ringing out in the night, all screech to a halt, when laughter comes from the crow’s nest. A cry of joy and of celebration. The captain didn’t believe it, she pushed aside her first mate, and raised the spyglass out into the sea. There, on the edge of the horizon, the greeny brown tips of land were visible.
An anchor dropped, and the crew practically tumbled out of their rowboats onto the sand. Landfall at last, her majesty will be so pleased. Most of the crew was ordered to search for edible plants to refill their reserves, while those that remained began boiling salt water. The first mate brought the flag, and they began walking towards a distant hill, the perfect place to claim for their queen.
Along the walk the botanist grew increasingly annoying. How could someone be so obsessed with stupid plants? He insisted on stopping every few minutes so that he could sketch the new findings. The ninth time this happened, the captain drew her cutlass and freed the plant from its stem. The botanist stayed quiet for the rest of the hike.
Finally, the trio crested the hill, and the land splayed out before them. A new land, all for their queen. She will be pleased with them at last. The pole stabbed into the untouched earth, and the flag was raised. The wind was perfect, blowing in from the sea, the flag waved in all its glory, reaching out over the plains.
While watching their feat, the captain felt the pestering botanist tap her shoulder. She reprimanded him, but he seemed distracted from the scolding. He pointed somewhere to the North, and following his finger, the captain saw a few small structures near the trees.
Huts? No it couldn't be. Raising her spyglass again, they came into view. And standing beside them, staring up at her majesty’s flag, where a few figures, confusion abundantly clear on their faces. Oh well. It looks like the captain has some work to do.
___________
4
Tears fall down her eyes and the nurses run around, trying to stabilise her. Even if she wasn't, she didn't care in that moment. How could she, while the newborn in her arms wailed? She looked up to find the boy’s father shedding his own tears. She was glad knowing that he would protect their son, no matter what.
The boy never took off his mother’s favourite pendant, the one she was wearing that fateful day all those years ago. Even when his younger siblings asked about it, or his new mother, he never let them touch it, not in all of these years. He loved them, he really did, but they could never understand. He wasn’t sure if he could either.
The pendant glistened in the sun, and for the first time in two decades, a hand that wasn’t his own held it. He trusted her like none before. He could fall into her eyes forever, and she could sink into his arms for eternity. Why would anyone give this up, for someone they are yet to know?
More crying, salty tears staining the floor. Finally, the cries of a woman came to an end, and they were replaced by those of a baby. The woman began laughing, for joy filled her heart so fully. As the man looked into his daughter's wondrous eyes, he finally understood.
The girl laughed and played with her friends, half of whom were her cousins. The boring adults sat inside, talking about ‘Will’, whoever that was. She didn’t care, because she wanted to show all her friends and cousins the birthday present she got from her father. The pendant gleamed, dangling from her fist as she held it as high as she could. She would treasure it forever and ever. She swore that no one could ever have it but her.
But time cares not for such things. The boy sat on the stairs outside the venue, rain pattering down beside him as the gas lamps pierced through the darkness. His grandmother told him to hold the pendant close to his heart, it’s silver dulled by the years but nonetheless beautiful. He stilled his nerves and turned to walk back inside. It was his third cousin’s wedding after all, the least he can do is be happy for them.
___________
5
The man may be annoying, but he is strategic. He stands at the place he knows has the most foot traffic at this time of day, that charming smile plastered on his face. He proclaimed his wisdom to all those who would listen, and many who would not. Horses were a thing of the past, electricity was the new craze.
Turning gears and rumbling motors, oh how wonderful they sounded to him. He would work until he dropped, for his message had to travel far and wide. Was he harassed? Of course he was! That was business! Stupid people who wanted to stick with the beasts and needed some sense knocked into them, and he was more than happy to take charge.
A failed engine or two, that's the price of progress! What, you think the first house didn’t crumble under its own weight? You think the first lightbulb didn’t burn out in mere moments? Innovation demands the tortoise, my friend, not the hare.
After all the hard work of him and his compatriots, the beeping sounds of car horns filled the cobbled street below. Success sounded from the road to his ears, and money into his pockets. A knock on his door spoiled his fun, but he knew it was for the best. His friends were here with more news from far away, broadcast to their home with that one doohickey, what was it called? A radio?
What next was there that they could do? What could they teach their children to do? Perhaps a portable radio? What could be more convenient than that? Ideas were the lifeblood of society after all, one of his many catchphrases. The world was changing, life was getting easier, and the salesman could not be happier.
___________
6
A dream adrift across a sea of consciousness, not one nor two nor three. A dream shared by many, deep within their hearts. A little girl tucked into bed, singing a song of twinkling stars. An old man looking out his window, and finding the moon staring back. An ambitious teenager wishing to one day visit the sands of Mars.
A dream that began in the distant past, when the ancients gave names to the stars, and wove stories of the planets. A dream that persists to the modern day, as humanity desperately claws at the void, begging for even a single foothold. A dream that will come true in the future.
Humanity knows it will come true, because it simply must. There is no alternative. They look up to the stars and imagine so many wondrous things. They imagine that they are not alone, that there are others out there, waiting for them. These other societies, surely they have been up there far longer than we have.
Surely they have solved all of their feeble problems by now… so why haven’t we? Why do we suffer on the Earth, while they revel in the heavens? Why are our feet on solid ground, while their wings span the stars? It isn’t fair, humanity thinks.
A ship ascends to the edge of space, close enough to reach for the vacuum. Another lands on the moon, but must retreat mere hours later. Years go by. The Earth spins, and the Solar system continues its celestial dance. Rovers landing on other worlds, only to be battered and broken by the elements. Craft flung out into the depths of space, only to be lost to the endless void.
Why is this so hard? Where is everybody? Are they ignoring us? Why are they ignoring us? Why can’t we do this? Why… why… why? It isn’t fair. IT ISN'T FAIR. We deserve this. We need this.
___________
7
Finally, after yet another monotonous day, I collapse onto my couch. Home sweet home at last. The train was late again, so it almost made me miss the bus, something that happens far more often then I would like. Bags abandoned thoughtlessly near the door, arms sprawled out beside me as I listen to the clock slowly ticking away on the wall, taunting me. Hm... maybe I have enough time tonight. A bottle of water and a bowl of chips beside me, the satisfying sound of a mouse and keyboard connecting fills my headphones. I open up a document already filled with tens of thousands of words, and prepare to add more yet. Fingers dancing across the keys, a new story unravelling onto the digital page in front of me.
First, a story of protection and rage. A father doing whatever it takes to save his daughter, and who will fell behemoths to make sure she is safe. Fueled by fury for a lost brother, his spear conquers the ice and snow. A story of humans unafraid to show our wrath, to bare our teeth and wield our strength.
Second, a story of joy and feasting. A farmer harvesting his well-earned yield, of wheat carried far afield to be kneaded by hard working hands all to be delivered to a grand castle, and placed on the table of a noble's feast. A story of humans embracing their gluttony, and thinking themselves so smart in their creations.
Third, a story of searching and tragedy. An explorer sailing the waters of a sturdy vessel, arriving to new lands with new people to meet, (not that she cares) and staking the banner of her majesty's power in the soil. Spreading and conquering, never satisfied. A story of humans feeding their greed, of claiming what they want, and believing it to have been theirs all along.
Fourth, a story of purpose and love. A mother, holding her first born in her arms. When he grows, his siblings follow suit, and he loves them with all his heart. His mother’s pendant in hand, the cycle continues. Parent to child, child to parent, again and again, as the family grows. A story of humans showing their lust as each generation expands faster and faster.
Fifth, a story of trial and innovation. A salesman displaying the latest device to appear on the market, a newfangled machine that gets you from point A to B. What's next? Something to warm your food for you, to cook for you, to drive for you, to work for you? A story of humans giving into sloth, as their intelligence makes it all so much easier.
Sixth, a story of longing and wonder. A civilization looking up to the stars above, and their minds wander. What could be up there? Who could be up there? Why are they up there, but we are not? We want it. It is our birthright. A story of humans succumbing to envy of those they can’t even prove the existence of… not that that will deter them.
Six ideas for a story, and none that I particularly felt happy with. I did a small draft from each, nothing major, but none of them grasped me. I lean back in my chair, contemplating. I need something... more human. Something that people can relate to, perhaps something they can enjoy reading... wait, that's it! I know just what to do.
My seventh idea is not a single written piece, for the story it tells is too broad, and all too common to be contained within this single page. It is a story of humanity, and triumph.
It is a science fiction work, fantastical, and post-apocalyptic. It is romantic, tragic, comedic, erotic, mysterious and meta. It is all of these, and none of them.
It is a story about humanity’s capacity to conquer fear and tame fury, of embracing joy and delighting in sorrow. It is all of these, and none of them.
Delving into worlds not our own, or perhaps those lurking in glistening shadows. Countless lands, countless critters, countless magics. A world of delving into dungeons, and a world of defying the will of dragons. A world painted across the silver screen, and a world engraved in pitch black ink.
You may be thinking, ‘what on Earth am I talking about?’, and oftentimes the answer lies beyond the planet. This story is told in the clouds of Venus, and the dunes of Mars. Racing through the Sun’s corona, fleeing across Pluto’s heart. A story of discovering friends and foes among the stars, and a story of being forever alone.
When we initiate first contact, they will finally see what comes out of cruel space. We show those who are out there why humans avoid war, and we will show them the nature of predators.
A story where humans control the galaxy.
A story where humans are long gone.
A story where humans dance with death.
These stories, you’ve read them before, haven’t you?
What could be more human, then indulging in our sense of supremacy? Creating propaganda so blatant that we revel in that fact. Delusions of grandeur that we clap and cheer for. Stories where we are simply better.
One which you are reading right now.
But you won’t stop, will you?
Don’t deny it.
I am no better.
I’m the one writing this, afterall.
Indulging in my addiction of creating worlds where we are better.
Where you feel powerful.
Where I feel in control.
Thank you for reading, my dearest sinner.
Oh, and don’t forget the most human sin of all.
One which neither you nor I wish to escape.
Pride

This one's for the lurkers that are looking at both the model 3 and Chevy Bolt
So I've been driving my EUV Premier with sun&sound and Supercruise since January. I've also been driving EVs in general since 2019.
I test drove the Tesla Model 3 RWD base model and here's my takeaway points comparing it with the EUV

1. While the sedan form factor isn't practical to me, there's a lot of usable storage space. The trunk is a lot larger than the EUV, and the sub trunk is extremely deep as well. There's also the frunk, which is a fairly significant volume. While I don't think you'll be able to get bulky items in the model 3, you can get more moderate sized things in the car compared to the EUV.
   
2. Tesla vision is garbage. The EUV's 360 top-down cam is way better and more useful.
   
3. While the model 3 isn't a ton faster to 60mph, the acceleration feels more reactive than the Bolt's. The go-pedal is just more responsive than the Bolt's in every driving condition.
   
4. Supercruise is flawed on the EUV, and I'm not even talking about it having less map coverage than the real Supercruise on GM's other vehicles. It constantly rides too close to the right side of the lane and disengages because it doesn't want to work that day. I've also not had Supercruise work on a stretch of highway in the Bay Area that shows as supported since day one. Basic Autopilot on the model 3 is simply better for the fact that it doesn't require backend support for map coverage. It's also able to negotiate curvy roads, such as changing from one highway to another via on ramps. Only drawback for Autopilot is the fact that it needs you to squeeze the steering wheel occasionally, which Super Cruise was nicer since it used eye tracking and created a less intrusive way to make sure you're paying attention.
   
5. DCFC speeds... Speaks for itself
   
6. Seats on the Model 3 were more comfortable for me. The bolstering felt more supportive and the seat just seems to cradle me better than the EUV.
   
7. I like that the Bolt has physical buttons for commonly used features, such as heated steering wheel, heated and ventilated seats (Model 3 doesn't have ventilated seats FYI), and HVAC. While I don't like the fact that everything was on a touch screen for the Model 3, the menus and settings were laid out in a very logical and easy-to-use fashion. Not hard to navigate through Tesla's software buttons, but still prefer the Bolt's infotainment/controls.
   

That was just a 30 minute test drive. Each car has their pros and cons. I'm not completely sold on the Model 3, but I do like it.

I think I'm finally done with this stage of upgrading the JBL audio in my 2021 OR. I'm posting here in case it helps anyone out who is considering starting down this path.
tl;dr: The JBL audio package is frustratingly poor from the head unit's clumsy interface and lack of wireless CarPlay and AndroidAuto to the weird amp to the muddy speakers. I went through a number of iterations and ended up with something that maybe cost too much, but addresses a lot of these issues.
Parts list at the end.
What I wanted to address:

1. Sound quality. Especially the harshness in the upper range and the muddiness in the mid and lower bass.
2. Lack of Wireless CarPlay

What I wouldn't give up:

1. 360 camera functionality including View button access.
2. Camera/screen clarity.
3. No floating/halo over-sized screens.

First try: Wireless CarPlay USB
I purchased and returned two different Wireless CarPlay USB adapters. I kept a third and used it for six months. These were all slow to connect -- 30-90 seconds -- and unreliable. Many times after waiting over two minutes for the connection, I would need to unplug/plug the USB adapter to reboot the thing.
Didn't try: Pro upgrade
I spoke to a local installer who suggested that anything short of pulling the JBL amp or adding post-JBL-amp DSP was going to fail. He suggested a price tag starting at about $3k and quickly heading toward $5k. Not in my price range.
Second try: Trail Grid Pro Sony XAV-AX6000 plug-n-play bundle
Kudos to the guys at Trail Grid Pro for putting this together. The wiring harness, Maestro pre-programming, and install videos were all great.
The Sony XAV-AX6000 is not great.
I paid $900 for this. It is now $768.
There was a very minor improvement in the sound quality. Probably based on the EQ that's available in the Sony and possibly on it just being a better head unit than the JBL (which is actually a Pioneer).
I returned it to Trail Grid Pro because the screen is awful. It's 800x600 and is significantly smaller than the JBL screen. The cameras were bordering on unusable.
Trail Grid Pro was easy with returns.
What I learned:

1. The Meastro RR is capable of retaining camera and steering wheel control functionality.
2. Screen quality is very important.
3. The HU can effect sound quality in some way even without replacing the amp or speakers.

Third try: Audiofrog separates
I changed tactics and decided to get some speakers from Crutchfield.
I initially went with the Audiofrog G60S. Coming from Crutchfield it included both wiring and door adapters/mounts. These are 6.5" "woofers" and 1" tweeters.
I did this install with the included Audiofrog in-line crossovers.
These did not sound good. I think the combination of the in-line crossovers and the JBL amp's channel tuning just broke the signal to the speakers.
What I learned:

1. Still no idea if Audiofrog is any good.
2. Replacing the door speakers is not as scary as it first appears.
3. The flush mount tweeter brackets sold by Crutchfield require a lot of modification to fit in the Tacoma dash.
4. The JBL tweeters have a soldered on connector that you need to cut off and re-use because nobody sells/provides that connectoadapter.
5. If people tell you that the JBL front door speakers are wired through your dash tweeters, they're wrong. At least for a 2021 w/ JBL.
6. The 89db 4ohm speakers were still plenty loud with the stock HU and amp.

Fourth try: Low-end Focal coaxials
I kept these.
Front Door: ACX 690 3-way 6x9 coaxials
Dash: TWU 1.5
Back Door: ACX 165 2-way 6.5 coaxials
Ordered from Crutchfield with the install kit.
I know some folks hate on coaxials, but going from 6 drivers to 12 drivers, getting full range sound from the doors, and not having to mess with crossovers to do it, all worked for me in this application.
The sound quality was better, but I still wanted to try to get Wireless CarPlay and see if the Focals would benefit from more EQ and better quality in the HU.
What I learned:

1. The plastic adapters to get the speakers in the doors were necessary. Even though the JBLs are 6x9 and 6.5, the threads on the door did not line up with the speaker mounting holes on the 6x9 and 6.5 Focals.
2. I still like Focals. I've given them lots of money for speakers, and I enjoy all of them.
3. Better SQ doesn't make the JBL HU any less annoying.
4. If you try to put rubber or foam baffles or cups on the door speakers, you have to be very careful about window clearance. My fronts are currently un-baffled with adhesive weather stripping where the plastic speaker adapter meets the door. That seems to work for now.

Fifth try: Alpine iLX-507
I bought this from Crutchfield with the Maestro RR and install kit.
I paid about $885.
There is now a bundle from Trail Grid Pro for $867.
It's basically all the same stuff, but Trail Grid Pro will program your Maestro, connect the wires, and bundle things up neatly for you.
There's no way I'd pull my install and return it to Crutchfield for $18, but if I'd noticed the Alpine bundle was available from TGP when I ordered, I probably would have done that.
TGP may also have solutions for connecting the factory GPS and Satellite Radio antennas and for using the stock microphone. Crutchfield doesn't have those.
The only place Trail Grid Pro seemed worse than Crutchfield was with the mounting adapter. The TGP adapter on the Sony was cheap plastic and was cracked when I got it. They offered to send a replacement, but, at that point, I knew I was returning the Sony. The adapter bundled by Crutchfield is better.
The Alpine is a superior HU to the Sony.
What the Alpine gets right:

1. It is a 720p screen. The physical screen is smaller than the JBL, but the clarity is much much better than either the JBL or Sony.
2. Your Toyota cameras are better than you think they are. I was shocked at how much better the 360 and reverse camera look on the Alpine screen. The images are noticeably smaller, but you can actually see more of what's going on.
3. The Alpine improved the SQ to a point that I can live with. There's still a sense that the JBL amp is under-performing and "doing things" to the signal that it shouldn't, but I actually enjoy listening to the Focals through the Alpine -- which is more than I can say for the either the JBL speakers or the JBL HU.
4. Integrated Wireless CarPlay on the Sony and Alpine is far beyond what the USB adapters provide. Almost instant connection. Actually faster than connecting the JBL HU over a USB cable.
5. The Alpine has dual USB on the rear. One of those can be connected to the Toyota USB using the Toyota adapter. I've got the other one tucked under the dash with a 256gb flash drive on it. It's full of FLAC that I can listen to if I don't want to use my phone, and it's relatively easy to pull out and update.

What's still not great:

1. SQ is still not perfect. That JBL amp is doing its thing.
2. Auto-source selection is fiddly. This seems to be a problem with CarPlay everywhere. Doing something like looking at a map in CarPlay while listening to the radio or USB source is harder than it should be. Spotify is the worst offender. Even quitting Spotify on the phone doesn't always get CarPlay and the HU to stop trying to use Spotify as its audio source.
3. Wireless CarPlay would be nicer if the Wireless charging pad worked. Dammit Toyota.
4. USB file browsing on the Alpine is sub-par. It's functional, but sort of 2005-esque.

General Thoughts:

1. If you want to improve SQ and the usability of the HU, you can do OK for around $1500. Much less probably won't get you there, and great sound probably requires much more.
2. Self-install is workable with install kits from either Crutchfield or Trail Grid Pro. Both companies are responsive and easy with returns. TGP likes to spam, and their unsubscribe seems broken. Other than that, no complaints for either company.
3. There are good tools at the iDataLink Maestro site. You can find exactly what functions are available and supported for a given combination of vehicle, HU, Maestro module, and Maestro harness. iDataLink also responds to support requests over email.

Final Parts List:
Speakers. Crutchfield. $450 w/ install kits.
Front Door: ACX 690 3-way 6x9 coaxials
Dash: TWU 1.5
Back Door: ACX 165 2-way 6.5 coaxials
HU. Crutchfield. $885 w/ install kit including Maestro RR and Toyota and Alpine harnesses.
Also available as a kit from Trail Grid Pro for slightly less.
Alpine iLX-507

NARRATOR: (Black screen with text; The sound of buzzing bees can be heard) According to all known laws of aviation, : there is no way a bee should be able to fly. : Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. : The bee, of course, flies anyway : because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. BARRY BENSON: (Barry is picking out a shirt) Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. : Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. JANET BENSON: Barry! Breakfast is ready! BARRY: Coming! : Hang on a second. (Barry uses his antenna like a phone) : Hello? ADAM FLAYMAN:
(Through phone) - Barry? BARRY: - Adam? ADAM: - Can you believe this is happening? BARRY: - I can't. I'll pick you up. (Barry flies down the stairs) : MARTIN BENSON: Looking sharp. JANET: Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. BARRY: Sorry. I'm excited. MARTIN: Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. : A perfect report card, all B's. JANET: Very proud. (Rubs Barry's hair) BARRY= Ma! I got a thing going here. JANET: - You got lint on your fuzz. BARRY: - Ow! That's me!
JANET: - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! (Barry flies out the door) JANET: Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! (Barry drives through the hive,and is waved at by Adam who is reading a newspaper) BARRY== - Hey, Adam. ADAM: - Hey, Barry. (Adam gets in Barry's car) : - Is that fuzz gel? BARRY: - A little. Special day, graduation. ADAM: Never thought I'd make it. (Barry pulls away from the house and continues driving) BARRY: Three days grade school, three days high school... ADAM: Those were awkward. BARRY: Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. ADAM== You did come back different. (Barry and Adam pass by Artie, who is jogging) ARTIE: - Hi, Barry!
BARRY: - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. ADAM: - Hear about Frankie? BARRY: - Yeah. ADAM== - You going to the funeral? BARRY: - No, I'm not going to his funeral. : Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. : Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. ADAM: I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. (The car does a barrel roll on the loop-shaped bridge and lands on the highway) : I love this incorporating an amusement park into our regular day. BARRY: I guess that's why they say we don't need vacations. (Barry parallel parks the car and together they fly over the graduating students) Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. (Barry and Adam sit down and put on their hats) : - Well, Adam, today we are men.
ADAM: - We are! BARRY= - Bee-men. =ADAM= - Amen! BARRY AND ADAM: Hallelujah! (Barry and Adam both have a happy spasm) ANNOUNCER: Students, faculty, distinguished bees, : please welcome Dean Buzzwell. DEAN BUZZWELL: Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... : ...9: : That concludes our ceremonies. : And begins your career at Honex Industries! ADAM: Will we pick our job today? (Adam and Barry get into a tour bus) BARRY= I heard it's just orientation. (Tour buses rise out of the ground and the students are automatically loaded into the buses) TOUR GUIDE: Heads up! Here we go.
ANNOUNCER: Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. BARRY: - Wonder what it'll be like? ADAM: - A little scary. TOUR GUIDE== Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco : and a part of the Hexagon Group. Barry: This is it! BARRY AND ADAM: Wow. BARRY: Wow. (The bus drives down a road an on either side are the Bee's massive complicated Honey-making machines) TOUR GUIDE: We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life : to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. : Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. : Our top-secret formula : is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured : into this soothing sweet syrup : with its distinctive golden glow you know as... EVERYONE ON BUS: Honey! (The guide has been collecting honey into a bottle and she throws it into the crowd on the bus and it is caught by a girl in the back) ADAM: - That girl was hot. BARRY: - She's my cousin! ADAM== - She is? BARRY: - Yes, we're all cousins. ADAM: - Right. You're right. TOUR GUIDE: - At Honex, we constantly strive : to improve every aspect of bee existence. : These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. (The bus passes by a Bee wearing a helmet who is being smashed into the ground with fly-swatters, newspapers and boots. He lifts a thumbs up but you can hear him groan) : ADAM==

• What do you think he makes? BARRY:
• Not enough. TOUR GUIDE: Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. (They pass by a turning wheel with Bees standing on pegs, who are each wearing a finger-shaped hat) Barry:
• Wow, What does that do? TOUR GUIDE:
• Catches that little strand of honey : that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. ADAM: (Intrigued) Can anyone work on the Krelman? TOUR GUIDE: Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. : But choose carefully : because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. (Everyone claps except for Barry) BARRY: The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. ADAM:

What's the difference? TOUR GUIDE: You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off : in 27 million years. BARRY: (Upset) So you'll just work us to death? : We'll sure try. (Everyone on the bus laughs except Barry. Barry and Adam are walking back home together) ADAM: Wow! That blew my mind! BARRY: "What's the difference?" How can you say that? : One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. ADAM: I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. BARRY: But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? ADAM: Why would you question anything? We're bees. : We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth.
BARRY: You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? ADAM: Like what? Give me one example. (Barry and Adam stop walking and it is revealed to the audience that hundreds of cars are speeding by and narrowly missing them in perfect unison) BARRY: I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. ANNOUNCER: Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. BARRY: Wait a second. Check it out. (The Pollen jocks fly in, circle around and landing in line) : - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! ADAM: - Wow. : I've never seen them this close. BARRY: They know what it's like outside the hive. ADAM: Yeah, but some don't come back. GIRL BEES: - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! (The Pollen Jocks hook up their backpacks to machines that pump the nectar to trucks, which drive away)
LOU LO DUVA: You guys did great! : You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! (Punching the Pollen Jocks in joy) I love it! ADAM: - I wonder where they were. BARRY: - I don't know. : Their day's not planned. : Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. : You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. ADAM== Right. (Barry and Adam are covered in some pollen that floated off of the Pollen Jocks) BARRY: Look at that. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. ADAM: It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. BARRY: Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. (Barry waves at 2 girls standing a little away from them)
ADAM== Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? BARRY: Distant. Distant. POLLEN JOCK #1: Look at these two. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Couple of Hive Harrys. POLLEN JOCK #1: - Let's have fun with them. GIRL BEE #1: It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. BARRY: Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! : He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! (Slaps Adam with his hand to represent his scenario) GIRL BEE #2: - Oh, my! BARRY: - I never thought I'd knock him out. GIRL BEE #1: (Looking at Adam) What were you doing during this? ADAM: Obviously I was trying to alert the authorities. BARRY: I can autograph that.
(The pollen jocks walk up to Barry and Adam, they pretend that Barry and Adam really are pollen jocks.) POLLEN JOCK #1: A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? BARRY: Yeah. Gusty. POLLEN JOCK #1: We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. BARRY: - Six miles, huh? ADAM: - Barry! POLLEN JOCK #2: A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. BARRY: - Maybe I am. ADAM: - You are not! POLLEN JOCK #1: We're going 0900 at J-Gate. : What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? BARRY: I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. (The scene cuts to Barry looking out on the hive-city from his balcony at night) MARTIN:
Hey, Honex! BARRY: Dad, you surprised me. MARTIN: You decide what you're interested in? BARRY: - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. : Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? MARTIN: Son, let me tell you about stirring. : You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. : You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. BARRY: You know, Dad, the more I think about it, : maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. MARTIN: You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? : That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. :
Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! JANET: - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. BARRY: - I'm not trying to be funny. MARTIN: You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! JANET: - You're gonna be a stirrer? BARRY: - No one's listening to me! MARTIN: Wait till you see the sticks I have. BARRY: I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! (Barry's parents don't listen to him and continue to ramble on) MARTIN: Let's open some honey and celebrate! BARRY: Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. : Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! JANET: I'm so proud. (The scene cuts to Barry and Adam waiting in line to get a job) ADAM: - We're starting work today!
BARRY: - Today's the day. ADAM: Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. BARRY: Yeah, right. JOB LISTER: Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Is it still available? JOB LISTER: - Hang on. Two left! : One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. ADAM: - What'd you get? BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Picking crud out. Stellar! (He walks away) ADAM: Wow! JOB LISTER: Couple of newbies? ADAM: Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! JOB LISTER: Make your choice. (Adam and Barry look up at the job board. There are hundreds of constantly changing panels that contain available or unavailable jobs. It looks very confusing)
ADAM: - You want to go first? BARRY: - No, you go. ADAM: Oh, my. What's available? JOB LISTER: Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. ADAM: - Any chance of getting the Krelman? JOB LISTER: - Sure, you're on. (Puts the Krelman finger-hat on Adam's head) (Suddenly the sign for Krelman closes out) : I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. (Takes Adam's hat off) Wax monkey's always open. ADAM: The Krelman opened up again. : What happened? JOB LISTER: A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. : Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. : Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!
ADAM: Oh, this is so hard! (Barry remembers what the Pollen Jock offered him and he flies off) Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, : humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, : mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? (Adam turns around and sees Barry flying away) : Barry! POLLEN JOCK: All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... ADAM: (Through phone) What happened to you? Where are you? BARRY: - I'm going out. ADAM: - Out? Out where? BARRY: - Out there. ADAM: - Oh, no! BARRY: I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. ADAM:
You're gonna die! You're crazy! (Barry hangs up) Hello? POLLEN JOCK #2: Another call coming in. : If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd : that gets their roses today. BARRY: Hey, guys. POLLEN JOCK #1 == - Look at that. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? LOU LO DUVA: Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. POLLEN JOCK #1: It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. (Puts hand on Barry's shoulder) LOU LO DUVA: (To Barry) Really? Feeling lucky, are you? BEE WITH CLIPBOARD: (To Barry) Sign here, here. Just initial that. : - Thank you. LOU LO DUVA: - OK. : You got a rain advisory today, :
and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. : So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, : hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. : Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. : Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! BARRY: - That's awful. LOU LO DUVA: (Still talking through megaphone) - And a reminder for you rookies, : bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! : All right, launch positions! POLLEN JOCKS: (The Pollen Jocks run into formation) : Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! LOU LU DUVA: Black and yellow! POLLEN JOCKS:
Hello! POLLEN JOCK #1: (To Barry)You ready for this, hot shot? BARRY: Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. POLLEN JOCK's: Wind, check. : - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. : - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. BARRY: Scared out of my shorts, check. LOU LO DUVA: OK, ladies, : let's move it out! : Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! : All of you, drain those flowers! (The pollen jocks fly out of the hive) BARRY: Wow! I'm out! : I can't believe I'm out! : So blue.
: I feel so fast and free! : Box kite! (Barry flies through the kite) : Wow! : Flowers! (A pollen jock puts on some high tech goggles that shows flowers similar to heat sink goggles.) POLLEN JOCK: This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. : Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. : Roses! POLLEN JOCK #1: 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. : Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. (The pollen jock fires a high-tech gun at the flower, shooting tubes that suck up the nectar from the flower and collects it into a pouch on the gun) BARRY: That is one nectar collector! POLLEN JOCK #1== - Ever see pollination up close? BARRY: - No, sir. POLLEN JOCK #1:
(Barry and the Pollen jock fly over the field, the pollen jock sprinkles pollen as he goes) : I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, : a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. BARRY: That's amazing. Why do we do that? POLLEN JOCK #1: That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. BARRY: Cool. POLLEN JOCK #1: I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. could be daisies. Don't we need those? POLLEN JOCK #2: Copy that visual. : Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. POLLEN JOCK #1: Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? POLLEN JOCK #2: Affirmative. (The Pollen jocks land near the "flowers" which, to the audience are obviously just tennis balls) KEN: (In the distance) That was on the line!
POLLEN JOCK #1: This is the coolest. What is it? POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't know, but I'm loving this color. : It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. POLLEN JOCK #1: Yeah, fuzzy. (Sticks his hand on the ball but it gets stuck) POLLEN JOCK #3== Chemical-y. (The pollen jock finally gets his hand free from the tennis ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. (The pollen jocks turn around and see Barry lying his entire body on top of one of the tennis balls) POLLEN JOCK #2: My sweet lord of bees! POLLEN JOCK #3: Candy-brain, get off there! POLLEN JOCK #1: (Pointing upwards) Problem! (A human hand reaches down and grabs the tennis ball that Barry is stuck to) BARRY: - Guys! POLLEN JOCK #2: - This could be bad. POLLEN JOCK #3: Affirmative. (Vanessa Bloome starts bouncing the tennis ball, not knowing Barry is stick to it)
BARRY== Very close. : Gonna hurt. : Mama's little boy. (Barry is being hit back and forth by two humans playing tennis. He is still stuck to the ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: You are way out of position, rookie! KEN: Coming in at you like a MISSILE! (Barry flies past the pollen jocks, still stuck to the ball) BARRY: (In slow motion) Help me! POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't think these are flowers. POLLEN JOCK #3: - Should we tell him? POLLEN JOCK #1: - I think he knows. BARRY: What is this?! KEN: Match point! : You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to EAT IT! (A pollen jock coughs which confused Ken and he hits the ball the wrong way with Barry stuck to it and it goes flying into the city) BARRY:
Yowser! (Barry bounces around town and gets stuck in the engine of a car. He flies into the air conditioner and sees a bug that was frozen in there) BARRY: Ew, gross. (The man driving the car turns on the air conditioner which blows Barry into the car) GIRL IN CAR: There's a bee in the car! : - Do something! DAD DRIVING CAR: - I'm driving! BABY GIRL: (Waving at Barry) - Hi, bee. (Barry smiles and waves at the baby girl) GUY IN BACK OF CAR: - He's back here! : He's going to sting me! GIRL IN CAR: Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! (Barry freezes as well, hovering in the middle of the car) : GRANDMA IN CAR== He blinked! (The grandma whips out some bee-spray and sprays everywhere in the car, climbing into the front seat, still trying to spray Barry) GIRL IN CAR: Spray him, Granny! DAD DRIVING THE CAR: What are you doing?! (Barry escapes the car through the air conditioner and is flying high above
the ground, safe.) BARRY: Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. (Barry sees that storm clouds are gathering and he can see rain clouds moving into this direction) : I gotta get home. : Can't fly in rain. : Can't fly in rain. (A rain drop hits Barry and one of his wings is damaged) : Can't fly in rain. (A second rain drop hits Barry again and he spirals downwards) Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! (WW2 plane sound effects are played as he plummets, and he crash-lands on a plant inside an apartment near the window) VANESSA BLOOME: Ken, could you close the window please? KEN== Hey, check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. : You see? (Folds brochure resume out) Folds out. (Ken closes the window, trapping Barry inside) BARRY: Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. (Barry tries to fly away but smashes into the window and falls again) : What was that?
(Barry keeps trying to fly out the window but he keeps being knocked back because the window is closed) Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... : Drapes! (Barry taps the glass. He doesn't understand what it is) That is diabolical. KEN: It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. ANDY: What's number one? Star Wars? KEN: Nah, I don't go for that... (Ken makes finger guns and makes "pew pew pew" sounds and then stops) : ...kind of stuff. BARRY: No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. KEN: When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. BARRY: (Looking at the light on the ceiling) There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. (Starts flying towards the lightbulb) : I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. (Barry hits the lightbulb and falls into the dip on the table that the humans are sitting at) KEN:
I predicted global warming. : I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. (Andy dips a chip into the bowl and scoops up some dip with Barry on it and is about to put it in his mouth) : Wait! Stop! Bee! (Andy drops the chip with Barry in fear and backs away. All the humans freak out) : Stand back. These are winter boots. (Ken has winter boots on his hands and he is about to smash the bee but Vanessa saves him last second) VANESSA: Wait! : Don't kill him! (Vanessa puts Barry in a glass to protect him) KEN: You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! VANESSA: Why does his life have less value than yours? KEN: Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? VANESSA: I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. (Vanessa picks up Ken's brochure and puts it under the glass so she can carry Barry back to the window. Barry looks at Vanessa in amazement) KEN:
My brochure! VANESSA: There you go, little guy. (Vanessa opens the window and lets Barry out but Barry stays back and is still shocked that a human saved his life) KEN: I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. VANESSA: Put that on your resume brochure. KEN: My whole face could puff up. ANDY: Make it one of your special skills. KEN: Knocking someone out is also a special skill. (Ken walks to the door) Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. : - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? VANESSA: - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. : (Vanessa tries to close door) KEN== - You could put carob chips on there. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door but Ken opens it again) KEN: - Supposed to be less calories.
VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door) (Fast forward to the next day, Barry is still inside the house. He flies into the kitchen where Vanessa is doing dishes) BARRY== (Talking to himself) I gotta say something. : She saved my life. I gotta say something. : All right, here it goes. (Turns back) Nah. : What would I say? : I could really get in trouble. : It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. : I can't believe I'm doing this. : I've got to. (Barry disguises himself as a character on a food can as Vanessa walks by again) : Oh, I can't do it. Come on! : No. Yes. No. : Do it. I can't.
: How should I start it? (Barry strikes a pose and wiggles his eyebrows) "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. (Vanessa is about to walk past Barry) Here she comes! Speak, you fool! : ...Hi! (Vanessa gasps and drops the dishes in fright and notices Barry on the counter) : I'm sorry. VANESSA: - You're talking. BARRY: - Yes, I know. VANESSA: (Pointing at Barry) You're talking! BARRY: I'm so sorry. VANESSA: No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. : But I don't recall going to bed. BARRY: Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. VANESSA: This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee!
BARRY: I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, (Pointing to the living room where Ken tried to kill him last night) but they were all trying to kill me. : And if it wasn't for you... : I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. (Vanessa stabs her hand with a fork to test whether she's dreaming or not) : That was a little weird. VANESSA: - I'm talking with a bee. BARRY: - Yeah. VANESSA: I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! BARRY: I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. (Barry turns to leave) VANESSA: - Wait! How did you learn to do that? BARRY: (Flying back) - What? VANESSA: The talking...thing. BARRY:
Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. VANESSA: - That's very funny. BARRY: - Yeah. : Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. : Anyway... VANESSA: Can I... : ...get you something? BARRY: - Like what? VANESSA: I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? BARRY: I don't want to put you out. VANESSA: It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. : - It's just coffee. BARRY: - I hate to impose. (Vanessa starts making coffee) VANESSA: - Don't be ridiculous!
BARRY: - Actually, I would love a cup. VANESSA: Hey, you want rum cake? BARRY: - I shouldn't. VANESSA: - Have some. BARRY: - No, I can't. VANESSA: - Come on! BARRY: I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. VANESSA: - Where? BARRY: - These stripes don't help. VANESSA: You look great! BARRY: I don't know if you know anything about fashion. : Are you all right? VANESSA: (Pouring coffee on the floor and missing the cup completely) No. (Flash forward in time. Barry and Vanessa are sitting together at a table on top of the apartment building drinking coffee)
: BARRY== He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. : He finally gets there. : He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. : And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. : Why would I marry a watermelon?" (Barry laughs but Vanessa looks confused) VANESSA: Is that a bee joke? BARRY: That's the kind of stuff we do. VANESSA: Yeah, different. : So, what are you gonna do, Barry? (Barry stands on top of a sugar cube floating in his coffee and paddles it around with a straw like it's a gondola) BARRY: About work? I don't know. : I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. VANESSA: I know how you feel.
BARRY: - You do? VANESSA: - Sure. : My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. BARRY: - Really? VANESSA: - My only interest is flowers. BARRY: Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. : Anyway, if you look... (Barry points to a tree in the middle of Central Park) : There's my hive right there. See it? VANESSA: You're in Sheep Meadow! BARRY: Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! VANESSA: No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. BARRY: - Why do girls put rings on their toes? VANESSA: - Why not? BARRY:

• It's like putting a hat on your knee. VANESSA:
• Maybe I'll try that. (A custodian installing a lightbulb looks over at them but to his perspective it looks like Vanessa is talking to a cup of coffee on the table) CUSTODIAN:
• You all right, ma'am? VANESSA:
• Oh, yeah. Fine. : Just having two cups of coffee! BARRY: Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. VANESSA== Yeah, it's no trouble. BARRY: Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. (Barry points towards the rum cake) : Can I take a piece of this with me? VANESSA: Sure! Here, have a crumb. (Vanessa hands Barry a crumb but it is still pretty big for Barry) BARRY:
• Thanks! VANESSA:
• Yeah. BARRY: All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around.
  : Or not. VANESSA: OK, Barry... BARRY: And thank you so much again... for before. VANESSA: Oh, that? That was nothing. BARRY: Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... (Vanessa and Barry hold hands, but Vanessa has to hold out a finger because her hands is to big and Barry holds that) (The custodian looks over again and it appears Vanessa is laughing at her coffee again. The lightbulb that he was screwing in sparks and he falls off the ladder) (Fast forward in time and we see two Bee Scientists testing out a parachute in a Honex wind tunnel) BEE SCIENTIST #1: This can't possibly work. BEE SCIENTIST #2: He's all set to go. We may as well try it. : OK, Dave, pull the chute. (Dave pulls the chute and the wind slams him against the wall and he falls on his face.The camera pans over and we see Barry and Adam walking together) ADAM:
  
• Sounds amazing. BARRY:
  
• It was amazing! : It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life.
  

ADAM: Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! : Giant, scary humans! What were they like? BARRY: Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. : They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. ADAM: - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? BARRY: - Some of them. But some of them don't. ADAM: - How'd you get back? BARRY: - Poodle. ADAM: You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. : You had your "experience." Now you can pick out your job and be normal. BARRY: - Well... ADAM: - Well? BARRY: Well, I met someone.
ADAM: You did? Was she Bee-ish? : - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! BARRY: - No, no, no, not a wasp. ADAM: - Spider? BARRY: - I'm not attracted to spiders. : I know, for everyone else, it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. : I can't get by that face. ADAM: So who is she? BARRY: She's... human. ADAM: No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. BARRY: - Her name's Vanessa. (Adam puts his head in his hands) ADAM: - Oh, boy. BARRY== She's so nice. And she's a florist! ADAM: Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!
BARRY: We're not dating. ADAM: You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes : with power washers and M-80s! That's one-eighth a stick of dynamite! BARRY: She saved my life! And she understands me. ADAM: This is over! BARRY: Eat this. (Barry gives Adam a piece of the crumb that he got from Vanessa. Adam eats it) ADAM: (Adam's tone changes) This is not over! What was that? BARRY: - They call it a crumb. ADAM: - It was so stingin' stripey! BARRY: And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! : - You know what a Cinnabon is? ADAM: - No. (Adam opens a door behind him and he pulls Barry in)
BARRY: It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. ADAM: Be quiet! BARRY: They heat it up... ADAM: Sit down! (Adam forces Barry to sit down) BARRY: (Still rambling about Cinnabons) ...really hot! (Adam grabs Barry by the shoulders) ADAM: - Listen to me! : We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! BARRY== Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? ADAM: There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! : You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! BARRY: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEE: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEES AND ADAM: Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee! (Flash forward in time; Barry is laying on a raft in a pool full of honey. He is wearing sunglasses) JANET: There he is. He's in the pool. MARTIN: You know what your problem is, Barry? (Barry pulls down his sunglasses and he looks annoyed) BARRY: (Sarcastic) I gotta start thinking bee? JANET: How much longer will this go on? MARTIN: It's been three days! Why aren't you working? (Puts sunglasses back on) BARRY: I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. MARTIN: What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! JANET: Would it kill you to make a little honey? (Barry rolls off the raft and sinks into the honey pool) : Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. : Martin, would you talk to him? MARTIN:
Barry, I'm talking to you! (Barry keeps sinking into the honey until he is suddenly in Central Park having a picnic with Vanessa) (Barry has a cup of honey and he clinks his glass with Vanessas. Suddenly a mosquito lands on Vanessa and she slaps it, killing it. They both gasp but then burst out laughing) VANESSA: You coming? (The camera pans over and Vanessa is climbing into a small yellow airplane) BARRY: Got everything? VANESSA: All set! BARRY: Go ahead. I'll catch up. (Vanessa lifts off and flies ahead) VANESSA: Don't be too long. (Barry catches up with Vanessa and he sticks out his arms like ana irplane. He rolls from side to side, and Vanessa copies him with the airplane) VANESSA: Watch this! (Barry stays back and watches as Vanessa draws a heart in the air using pink smoke from the plane, but on the last loop-the-loop she suddenly crashes into a mountain and the plane explodes. The destroyed plane falls into some rocks and explodes a second time) BARRY: Vanessa! (As Barry is yelling his mouth fills with honey and he wakes up, discovering that he was just day dreaming. He slowly sinks back into the honey pool) MARTIN: - We're still here.
JANET: - I told you not to yell at him. : He doesn't respond to yelling! MARTIN: - Then why yell at me? JANET: - Because you don't listen! MARTIN: I'm not listening to this. BARRY: Sorry, I've gotta go. MARTIN: - Where are you going? BARRY: - I'm meeting a friend. JANET: A girl? Is this why you can't decide? BARRY: Bye. (Barry flies out the door and Martin shakes his head) : JANET== I just hope she's Bee-ish. (Fast forward in time and Barry is sitting on Vanessa's shoulder and she is closing up her shop) BARRY: They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? VANESSA: To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream!
: Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. BARRY: A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? VANESSA: No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? BARRY: It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. VANESSA: Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. BARRY: TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! VANESSA: You don't have that? BARRY: We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. VANESSA: Oh, my. (A human walks by and Barry narrowly avoids him) PASSERBY: Dumb bees! VANESSA: You must want to sting all those jerks. BARRY: We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us. VANESSA: So you have to watch your temper (They walk into a store) BARRY: Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, : write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: : Anger, jealousy, lust. (Suddenly an employee(Hector) hits Barry off of Vanessa's shoulder. Hector thinks he's saving Vanessa) VANESSA: (To Barry) Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? (Barry is getting up off the floor) BARRY: Yeah. VANESSA: (To Hector) - What is wrong with you?! HECTOR: (Confused) - It's a bug. VANESSA: He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! (Vanessa hits Hector across the face with the magazine he had and then hits him in the head. Hector backs away covering his head) Barry: What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? (Vanessa sets Barry back on her shoulder)
VANESSA: Yeah, it was. How did you know? BARRY: It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. VANESSA: You've really got that down to a science. BARRY: - Oh, we have to. I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. VANESSA: - I'll bet. (Barry looks to his right and notices there is honey for sale in the aisle) BARRY: What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? (Barry looks at all the brands of honey, shocked) How did this get here? Cute Bee, Golden Blossom, : Ray Liotta Private Select? (Barry puts his hands up and slowly turns around, a look of disgust on his face) VANESSA: - Is he that actor? BARRY: - I never heard of him. : - Why is this here? VANESSA: - For people. We eat it. BARRY:
You don't have enough food of your own?! (Hector looks back and notices that Vanessa is talking to Barry) VANESSA: - Well, yes. BARRY: - How do you get it? VANESSA: - Bees make it. BARRY: - I know who makes it! : And it's hard to make it! : There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! VANESSA: - It's organic. BARRY: - It's our-ganic! VANESSA: It's just honey, Barry. BARRY: Just what?! : Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! : You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! :
And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. : I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! (Flash forward in time; Barry paints his face with black strikes like a soldier and sneaks into the storage section of the store) (Two men, including Hector, are loading boxes into some trucks) : SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE== Hey, Hector. : - You almost done? HECTOR: - Almost. (Barry takes a step to peak around the corner) (Whispering) He is here. I sense it. : Well, I guess I'll go home now (Hector pretends to walk away by walking in place and speaking loudly) : and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. BARRY: You're busted, box boy! HECTOR: I knew I heard something! So you can talk! BARRY: I can talk. And now you'll start talking! : Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier? HECTOR: I don't understand. I thought we were friends. : The last thing we want to do is upset bees! (Hector takes a thumbtack out of the board behind him and sword-fights Barry. Barry is using his stinger like a sword) : You're too late! It's ours now! BARRY: You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! HECTOR: You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! (Barry hits the thumbtack out of Hectors hand and Hector surrenders) Barry: Where is the honey coming from? : Tell me where! HECTOR: (Pointing to leaving truck) Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! (Barry chases after the truck but it is getting away. He flies onto a bicyclists' backpack and he catches up to the truck) CAR DRIVER: (To bicyclist) Crazy person! (Barry flies off and lands on the windshield of the Honey farms truck. Barry looks around and sees dead bugs splattered everywhere) BARRY: What horrible thing has happened here?
: These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now : they're on the road to nowhere! (Barry hears a sudden whisper) (Barry looks up and sees Mooseblood, a mosquito playing dead) MOOSEBLOOD: Just keep still. BARRY: What? You're not dead? MOOSEBLOOD: Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? BARRY: To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. MOOSEBLOOD: I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! ANOTHER BUG PLAYING DEAD: I'm going to Tacoma. (Barry looks at another bug) BARRY: - And you? MOOSEBLOOD: - He really is dead. BARRY: All right. (Another bug hits the windshield and the drivers notice. They activate the windshield wipers) MOOSEBLOOD== Uh-oh! (The windshield wipers are slowly sliding over the dead bugs and wiping
them off) BARRY: - What is that?! MOOSEBLOOD: - Oh, no! : - A wiper! Triple blade! BARRY: - Triple blade? MOOSEBLOOD: Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! (Mooseblood and Barry grab onto the wiper and they hold on as it wipes the windshield) Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! : How much do you people need to see?! (Bangs on windshield) : Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! RADIO IN TRUCK: From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. MOOSEBLOOD: But don't kill no more bugs! (Mooseblood and Barry are washed off by the wipr fluid) MOOSEBLOOD: - Bee! BARRY: - Moose blood guy!! (Barry starts screaming as he hangs onto the antenna) (Suddenly it is revealed that a water bug is also hanging on the antenna.
There is a pause and then Barry and the water bug both start screaming) TRUCK DRIVER: - You hear something? GUY IN TRUCK: - Like what? TRUCK DRIVER: Like tiny screaming. GUY IN TRUCK: Turn off the radio. (The antenna starts to lower until it gets to low and sinks into the truck. The water bug flies off and Barry is forced to let go and he is blown away. He luckily lands inside a horn on top of the truck where he finds Mooseblood, who was blown into the same place) MOOSEBLOOD: Whassup, bee boy? BARRY: Hey, Blood. (Fast forward in time and we see that Barry is deep in conversation with Mooseblood. They have been sitting in this truck for a while) BARRY: ...Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. MOOSEBLOOD: Wow! BARRY: I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. : I mean, that honey's ours. MOOSEBLOOD: - Bees hang tight. BARRY:

• We're all jammed in. : It's a close community. MOOSEBLOOD: Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. BARRY:
• What if you get in trouble? MOOSEBLOOD:
• You a mosquito, you in trouble. : Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! BARRY: At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. MOOSEBLOOD: Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. : Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. (An ambulance passes by and it has a blood donation sign on it) You got to be kidding me! : Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! (Mooseblood leaves and flies onto the window of the ambulance where there are other mosquito's hanging out) :
• Hey, guys! OTHER MOSQUITO:
• Mooseblood!

MOOSEBLOOD: I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? (The truck goes out of view and Barry notices that the truck he's on is pulling into a camp of some sort) TRUCK DRIVER: We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. (Barry flies out) BARRY: What is this place? BEEKEEPER 1#: A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. BEEKEEPER #2: They are pinheads! : Pinhead. : - Check out the new smoker. BEEKEEPER #1: - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. : The Thomas 3000! BARRY: Smoker? BEEKEEPER #1: Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. : A couple breaths of this knocks them right out.
BEEKEEPER #2: They make the honey, and we make the money. BARRY: "They make the honey, and we make the money"? (The Beekeeper sprays hundreds of cheap miniature apartments with the smoker. The bees are fainting or passing out) Oh, my! : What's going on? Are you OK? (Barry flies into one of the apartment and helps a Bee couple get off the ground. They are coughing and its hard for them to stand) BEE IN APARTMENT: Yeah. It doesn't last too long. BARRY: Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? BEE IN APPARTMENT: Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. (The apartment room is completely empty except for a photo on the wall of the "queen" who is obviously a man in women's clothes) BARRY: This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! : That's a drag queen! : What is this? (Barry flies out and he discovers that there are hundreds of these structures, each housing thousands of Bees) Oh, no! : There's hundreds of them! (Barry takes out his camera and takes pictures of these Bee work camps. The beekeepers look very evil in these depictions)
Bee honey. : Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! : This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. (Flash forward in time and Barry is showing these pictures to his parents) JANET: Oh, Barry, stop. MARTIN: Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. BARRY: Do these look like rumors? (Holds up the pictures) UNCLE CARL: That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. JANET: How did you get mixed up in this? ADAM: He's been talking to humans. JANET: - What? MARTIN: - Talking to humans?! ADAM: He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! JANET: Make out? Barry!
BARRY: We do not. ADAM: - You wish you could. MARTIN: - Whose side are you on? BARRY: The bees! UNCLE CARL: (He has been sitting in the back of the room this entire time) I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. JANET: Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? BARRY: I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! : Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked : your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. JANET: I remember that. BARRY: What right do they have to our honey? : We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!
ADAM: Even if it's true, what can one bee do? BARRY: Sting them where it really hurts. MARTIN: In the face! The eye! : - That would hurt. BARRY: - No. MARTIN: Up the nose? That's a killer. BARRY: There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. (Flash forward a bit in time and we are watching the Bee News) BEE NEWS NARRATOR: Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. BEE PROTESTOR: No more bee beards! BEE NEWS NARRATOR: With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. : Weather with Storm Stinger. : Sports with Buzz Larvi. : And Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. JEANETTE CHUNG:

• And I'm Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, : intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, : packaging it and profiting from it illegally! JEANETTE CHUNG: Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, : we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, : Classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. (The scene changes to an interview on the news with Bee version of Larry King and Barry) BEE LARRY KING: Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. : Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? BARRY: Bees have never been afraid to change the world. : What about Bee Columbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? BEE LARRY KING: Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.
  : We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. BARRY: How old are you? BEE LARRY KING: The bee community is supporting you in this case, : which will be the trial of the bee century. BARRY: You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. BEE LARRY KING: It's a common name. Next week... BARRY: He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... BEE LARRY KING: Next week... BARRY: Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. BEE LARRY KING: Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here, live. (Bee Larry King gets annoyed and flies away offscreen) BARRY: Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. (Flash forward in time. We see Vanessa enter and Ken enters behind her. They are arguing)
  

KEN: In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! VANESSA: It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. KEN== Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? BARRY: (To Ken) Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. KEN: (Pointing at Barry) - Is that that same bee? VANESSA: - Yes, it is! : I'm helping him sue the human race. BARRY: - Hello. KEN: - Hello, bee. VANESSA: This is Ken. BARRY: (Recalling the "Winter Boots" incident earlier) Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. KEN: (To Vanessa) Why does he talk again? VANESSA:
Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. KEN: But it's our yogurt night! VANESSA: (Holding door open for Ken) Bye-bye. KEN: (Yelling) Why is yogurt night so difficult?! (Ken leaves and Vanessa walks over to Barry. His workplace is a mess) VANESSA: You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! BARRY: Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. ADAM: - Frosting... - How many sugars? ==BARRY== Just one. I try not to use the competition. : So why are you helping me? VANESSA: Bees have good qualities. : And it takes my mind off the shop. : Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. BARRY:
Those are great, if you're three. VANESSA: And artificial flowers. BARRY: - Oh, those just get me psychotic! VANESSA: - Yeah, me too. : BARRY: Bent stingers, pointless pollination. ADAM: Bees must hate those fake things! : Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. : Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. VANESSA: - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. BARRY: - I guess. ADAM: You sure you want to go through with it? BARRY: Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able : to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! (Flash forward in time and we are watching the human news. The camera shows
a crowd outside a courthouse) NEWS REPORTER: It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, : where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, : we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. (We are no longer watching through a news camera) ADAM: What have we gotten into here, Barry? BARRY: It's pretty big, isn't it? ADAM== (Looking at the hundreds of people around the courthouse) I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. BARRY: You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? SECURITY GUARD: Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. (A limousine drives up and a fat man,Layton Montgomery, a honey industry owner gets out and walks past Barry) ADAM: - What's the matter? BARRY: - I don't know, I just got a chill. (Fast forward in time and everyone is in the court) MONTGOMERY: Well, if it isn't the bee team.
(To Honey Industry lawyers) You boys work on this? MAN: All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. JUDGE BUMBLETON: All right. Case number 4475, : Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry : is now in session. : Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? MONTGOMERY: A privilege. JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? (Everyone looks closely, they are waiting to see if a Bee can really talk) (Barry makes several buzzing sounds to sound like a Bee) BARRY: I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. JUDGE BUMBLBETON: Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. MONTGOMERY: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, : my grandmother was a simple woman. :
Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right : to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. : If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, : just think of what would it mean. : I would have to negotiate with the silkworm : for the elastic in my britches! : Talking bee! (Montgomery walks over and looks closely at Barry) : How do we know this isn't some sort of : holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? : They could be using laser beams! : Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, : he could be on steroids! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson?
BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. : I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. : It's important to all bees. We invented it! : We make it. And we protect it with our lives. : Unfortunately, there are some people in this room : who think they can take it from us : 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, : you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have : but everything we are! JANET== (To Martin) I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Call your first witness. BARRY: So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have. KLAUSS VANDERHAYDEN: I suppose so. BARRY: I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! KLAUSS: Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. BARRY: Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. : I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? KLAUSS: (Quietly) - No. BARRY: - I couldn't hear you. KLAUSS: - No. BARRY: - No. : Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, : it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. KLAUSS: They're very lovable creatures.
: Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. BARRY: You mean like this? (The bear from Over The Hedge barges in through the back door and it is roaring and standing on its hind legs. It is thrashing its claws and people are screaming. It is being held back by a guard who has the bear on a chain) : (Pointing to the roaring bear) Bears kill bees! : How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! : Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! JUDGE BUMBLETON: OK, that's enough. Take him away. (The bear stops roaring and thrashing and walks out) BARRY: So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. : - Where have I heard it before? MR. STING: - I was with a band called The Police. BARRY: But you've never been a police officer, have you? STING: No, I haven't. BARRY:
No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example : of bee culture casually stolen by a human : for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. STING: Oh, please. BARRY: Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? : Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. : Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! MONTGOMERY: That's not his real name?! You idiots! BARRY: Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on : your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. RAY LIOTTA: Thank you. Thank you. BARRY: I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome : with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow. RAY LIOTTA: I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? BARRY: Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? : Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't : have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? RAY LIOTTA: Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! BARRY: This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! (Ray Liotta looses it and tries to grab Barry) RAY LIOTTA: Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! JUDGE BUMBLETON: - Order in this court! RAY LIOTTA: - You're all thinking it! (Judge Bumbleton starts banging her gavel) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Order! Order, I say! RAY LIOTTA: - Say it! MAN:

• Mr. Liotta, please sit down! (We see a montage of magazines which feature the court case) (Flash forward in time and Barry is back home with Vanessa) BARRY: I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. VANESSA: I think the jury's on our side. BARRY: Are we doing everything right,you know, legally? VANESSA: I'm a florist. BARRY: Right. Well, here's to a great team. VANESSA: To a great team! (Ken walks in from work. He sees Barry and he looks upset when he sees Barry clinking his glass with Vanessa) KEN: Well, hello. VANESSA:
• Oh, Ken! BARRY:
• Hello! VANESSA: I didn't think you were coming. : No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... (Ken holds up his phone and flips it open. The phone has no charge) ...the battery... VANESSA:

I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. KEN: Oh, that was lucky. (Ken sits down at the table across from Barry and Vanessa leaves the room) VANESSA: There's a little left. I could heat it up. KEN: (Not taking his eyes off Barry) Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. BARRY: So I hear you're quite a tennis player. : I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. KEN: That's where I usually sit. Right... (Points to where Barry is sitting) there. VANESSA: (Calling from other room) Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, : and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. KEN: (To Barry) You think I don't see what you're doing? BARRY: I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common.
KEN: Do we? BARRY: Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. KEN: (Menacingly) That's just what I was thinking about doing. (Ken reaches for a fork on the table but knocks if on the floor. He goes to pick it up) VANESSA: Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. (Ken quickly rises back up after hearing this but hits his head on the table and yells) BARRY: I'm going to drain the old stinger. KEN: Yeah, you do that. (Barry flies past Ken to get to the bathroom and Ken freaks out, splashing some of the wine he was using to cool his head in his eyes. He yells in anger) (Barry looks at the magazines featuring his victories in court) BARRY: Look at that. (Barry flies into the bathroom) (He puts his hand on his head but this makes hurts him and makes him even madder. He yells again) (Barry is washing his hands in the sink but then Ken walks in) KEN: You know, you know I've just about had it (Closes bathroom door behind him) with your little mind games. (Ken is menacingly rolling up a magazine) BARRY:
(Backing away) - What's that? KEN: - Italian Vogue. BARRY: Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. KEN: It's a lot of ads. BARRY: Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? KEN: That's funny, I just can't seem to recall that! (Ken smashes everything off the sink with the magazine and Barry narrowly escapes) (Ken follows Barry around and tries to hit him with the magazine but he keeps missing) (Ken gets a spray bottle) : I think something stinks in here! BARRY: (Enjoying the spray) I love the smell of flowers. (Ken holds a lighter in front of the spray bottle) KEN: How do you like the smell of flames?! BARRY: Not as much. (Ken fires his make-shift flamethrower but misses Barry, burning the bathroom. He torches the whole room but looses his footing and falls into the bathtub. After getting hit in the head by falling objects 3 times he picks up the shower head, revealing a Water bug hiding under it) WATER BUG: Water bug! Not taking sides!
(Barry gets up out of a pile of bathroom supplies and he is wearing a chapstick hat) BARRY: Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! (Ken switches the shower head to lethal) KEN: I've got issues! (Ken sprays Barry with the shower head and he crash lands into the toilet) (Ken menacingly looks down into the toilet at Barry) Well, well, well, a royal flush! BARRY: - You're bluffing. KEN: - Am I? (flushes toilet) (Barry grabs a chapstick from the toilet seat and uses it to surf in the flushing toilet) BARRY: Surf's up, dude! (Barry flies out of the toilet on the chapstick and sprays Ken's face with the toilet water) : EW,Poo water! BARRY: That bowl is gnarly. KEN: (Aiming a toilet cleaner at Barry) Except for those dirty yellow rings! (Barry cowers and covers his head and Vanessa runs in and takes the toilet cleaner from Ken just before he hits Barry) VANESSA: Kenneth! What are you doing?! KEN== (Leaning towards Barry)
You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! VANESSA: We need to talk! (Vanessa pulls Ken out of the bathroom) : He's just a little bee! : And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! KEN: Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? VANESSA: No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! KEN: Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... : My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! VANESSA: Goodbye, Ken. (Ken huffs and walks out and slams the door. But suddenly he walks back in and stares at Barry) : And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners MADE BY MAN! (Ken leaves again and Vanessa leans in towards Barry) VANESSA: I'm sorry about all that. (Ken walks back in again)
KEN: I know it's got an aftertaste! I LIKE IT! (Ken leaves for the last time) VANESSA: I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. : I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. : Are you OK for the trial? BARRY: I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. (Flash forward in time and Barry, Adam, and Vanessa are back in court) MONTGOMERY-- We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. ADAM: Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... (Barry stares at Adam) ...Yeah. LAWYER: Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. MONTGOMERY: Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around : is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. (To lawyer)

• You got the tweezers? LAWYER:
• Are you allergic? MONTGOMERY: Only to losing, son. Only to losing. : Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. : What exactly is your relationship (Points to Vanessa) : to that woman? BARRY: We're friends. MONTGOMERY:
• Good friends? BARRY:
• Yes. MONTGOMERY: How good? Do you live together? ADAM: Wait a minute... : MONTGOMERY: Are you her little... : ...bedbug? (Adam's stinger starts vibrating. He is agitated) I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand,
  : doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? BARRY:
  
• Yeah, but... MONTGOMERY: (Pointing at Janet and Martin)
  
• So those aren't your real parents! JANET:
  
• Oh, Barry... BARRY:
  
• Yes, they are! ADAM: Hold me back! (Vanessa tries to hold Adam back. He wants to sting Montgomery) MONTGOMERY: You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? ADAM: He's denouncing bees! MONTGOMERY: Don't y'all date your cousins? (Montgomery leans over on the jury stand and stares at Adam) VANESSA:
  
• Objection! (Vanessa raises her hand to object but Adam gets free. He flies straight at Montgomery) =ADAM:
  
• I'm going to pincushion this guy! BARRY: Adam, don't! It's what he wants! (Adam stings Montgomery in the butt and he starts thrashing around)
  

MONTGOMERY: Oh, I'm hit!! : Oh, lordy, I am hit! JUDGE BUMBLETON: (Banging gavel) Order! Order! MONTGOMERY: (Overreacting) The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! : I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! : You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! : Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! BARRY: - Adam, stay with me. ADAM: - I can't feel my legs. MONTGOMERY: (Overreacting and throwing his body around the room) What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison : from my heaving buttocks? JUDGE BUMLBETON: I will have order in this court. Order!
: Order, please! (Flash forward in time and we see a human news reporter) NEWS REPORTER: The case of the honeybees versus the human race : took a pointed turn against the bees : yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. (Adam is laying in a hospital bed and Barry flies in to see him) BARRY: - Hey, buddy. ADAM: - Hey. BARRY: - Is there much pain? ADAM: - Yeah. : I... : I blew the whole case, didn't I? BARRY: It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. ADAM: I'd be better off dead. Look at me. (A small plastic sword is replaced as Adam's stinger) They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.
: Look, there's a little celery still on it. (Flicks off the celery and sighs) BARRY: What was it like to sting someone? ADAM: I can't explain it. It was all... : All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! BARRY: ...All right. ADAM: You think it was all a trap? BARRY: Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. : What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. ADAM: What will the humans do to us if they win? BARRY: I don't know. ADAM: I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. BARRY: Adam, they check in, but they don't check out!
ADAM: Oh, my. (Coughs) Could you get a nurse to close that window? BARRY: - Why? ADAM: - The smoke. (We can see that two humans are smoking cigarettes outside) : Bees don't smoke. BARRY: Right. Bees don't smoke. : Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. : That's it! That's our case! ADAM: It is? It's not over? BARRY: Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. : Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. (Flash forward in time and Adam is making a paper boat in the courtroom) ADAM: And assuming you've done step 29 correctly, you're ready for the tub! (We see that the jury have each made their own paper boats after being taught how by Adam. They all look confused) JUDGE BUMBLETON:
Mr. Flayman. ADAM: Yes? Yes, Your Honor! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Where is the rest of your team? ADAM: (Continues stalling) Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. : Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, : and as a result, we don't make very good time. : I actually heard a funny story about... MONTGOMERY: Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs : taken up enough of this court's valuable time? : How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? : They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges : against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. : I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going : to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. ADAM: But you can't! We have a terrific case. MONTGOMERY: Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? : Show me the smoking gun! BARRY: (Barry flies in through the door) Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? : Here is your smoking gun. (Vanessa walks in holding a bee smoker. She sets it down on the Judge's podium) JUDGE BUMBLETON: What is that? BARRY: It's a bee smoker! MONTGOMERY: (Picks up smoker) What, this? This harmless little contraption? : This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. (Montgomery accidentally fires it at the bees in the crowd and they faint
and cough) (Dozens of reporters start taking pictures of the suffering bees) BARRY: Look at what has happened : to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" : Is this what nature intended for us? : To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines : and man-made wooden slat work camps? : Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? (Barry points to the honey industry owners. One of them is an African American so he awkwardly separates himself from the others) LAWYER: - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! ADAM AND VANESSA: Free the bees! Free the bees! BEES IN CROWD: Free the bees! HUMAN JURY: Free the bees! Free the bees! JUDGE BUMBLETON: The court finds in favor of the bees!
BARRY: Vanessa, we won! VANESSA: I knew you could do it! High-five! (Vanessa hits Barry hard because her hand is too big) : Sorry. BARRY: (Overjoyed) I'm OK! You know what this means? : All the honey will finally belong to the bees. : Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. MONTGOMERY: This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. : You'll regret this. (Montgomery leaves and Barry goes outside the courtroom. Several reporters start asking Barry questions) REPORTER 1#: Barry, how much honey is out there? BARRY: All right. One at a time. REPORTER 2#: Barry, who are you wearing? BARRY: My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants.
(Barry flies outside with the paparazzi and Adam and Vanessa stay back) ADAM: (To Vanessa) - What if Montgomery's right? Vanessa: - What do you mean? ADAM: We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to a man) BUSINESS MAN: Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? BARRY: First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. (As Barry is talking we see a montage of men putting "closed" tape over the work camps and freeing the bees in the crappy apartments) Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, : every last drop. (Men in suits are pushing all the honey of the aisle and into carts) We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more (We see a statue of a bear-shaped honey container being pulled down by bees) than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. : We're all aware of what they do in the woods. (We see Winnie the Pooh sharing his honey with Piglet in the cross-hairs of a high-tech sniper rifle) BARRY: (Looking through binoculars)
Wait for my signal. : Take him out. (Winnie gets hit by a tranquilizer dart and dramatically falls off the log he was standing on, his tongue hanging out. Piglet looks at Pooh in fear and the Sniper takes the honey.) SNIPER: He'll have nausea for a few hours, then he'll be fine. (Flash forward in time) BARRY: And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... (Mr. Sting is sitting at home until he is taken out of his house by the men in suits) STING: But it's just a prance-about stage name! BARRY: ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products : and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. (An old lady is mixing honey into her tea but suddenly men in suits smash her face down on the table and take the honey) OLD LADY: Can't breathe. (A honey truck pulls up to Barry's hive) WORKER: Bring it in, boys! : Hold it right there! Good. : Tap it.
(Tons of honey is being pumped into the hive's storage) BEE WORKER 1#: (Honey overflows from the cup) Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! : - I think we need to shut down! =BEE WORKER #2= - Shut down? We've never shut down. : Shut down honey production! DEAN BUZZWELL: Stop making honey! (The bees all leave their stations. Two bees run into a room and they put the keys into a machine) Turn your key, sir! (Two worker bees dramatically turn their keys, which opens the button which they press, shutting down the honey-making machines. This is the first time this has ever happened) BEE: ...What do we do now? (Flash forward in time and a Bee is about to jump into a pool full of honey) Cannonball! (The bee gets stuck in the honey and we get a short montage of Bees leaving work) (We see the Pollen Jocks flying but one of them gets a call on his antenna) LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") We're shutting honey production! : Mission abort. POLLEN JOCK #1: Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. (The Pollen Jocks fly back to the hive)
(We get a time lapse of Central Park slowly wilting away as the bees all relax) BARRY: Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. ADAM: Oh, yeah? BARRY: What's going on? Where is everybody? (The entire street is deserted) : - Are they out celebrating? ADAM: - They're home. : They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. : I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. BARRY: At least we got our honey back. ADAM: Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? : It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. : This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. :
And now... : Now I can't. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to Vanessa) BARRY: I don't understand why they're not happy. : I thought their lives would be better! : They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. VANESSA: You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? BARRY: - What did you want to show me? (Vanessa takes Barry to the rooftop where they first had coffee and points to her store) VANESSA: - This. (Points at her flowers. They are all grey and wilting) BARRY: What happened here? VANESSA: That is not the half of it. (Small flash forward in time and Vanessa and Barry are on the roof of her store and she points to Central Park) (We see that Central Park is no longer green and colorful, rather it is grey, brown, and dead-like. It is very depressing to look at) BARRY: Oh, no. Oh, my. :
They're all wilting. VANESSA: Doesn't look very good, does it? BARRY: No. VANESSA: And whose fault do you think that is? BARRY: You know, I'm gonna guess bees. VANESSA== (Staring at Barry) Bees? BARRY: Specifically, me. : I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. VANESSA: It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. BARRY: That's our whole SAT test right there. VANESSA: Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. : And then, of course... BARRY: The human species? : So if there's no more pollination,
: it could all just go south here, couldn't it? VANESSA: I know this is also partly my fault. BARRY: How about a suicide pact? VANESSA: How do we do it? BARRY: - I'll sting you, you step on me. VANESSA: - That just kills you twice. BARRY: Right, right. VANESSA: Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. (Vanessa leaves) BARRY: (To himself) I had to open my mouth and talk. : Vanessa? : Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? (Vanessa is getting into a taxi) VANESSA: To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. :
They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. : It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. BARRY: Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. VANESSA: I know. Me neither. (The taxi starts to drive away) BARRY: Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. : Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? : Roses! : Vanessa! (Barry flies after the Taxi) VANESSA: Roses?! : Barry? (Barry is flying outside the window of the taxi) BARRY: - Roses are flowers! VANESSA: - Yes, they are. BARRY: Flowers, bees, pollen!
VANESSA: I know. That's why this is the last parade. BARRY: Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? VANESSA: Could you slow down? (The taxi driver screeches to a stop and Barry keeps flying forward) : Barry! (Barry flies back to the window) BARRY: OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. VANESSA: Yes, it kind of is. BARRY: I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you : with the flower shop. I've made it worse. VANESSA: Actually, it's completely closed down. BARRY: I thought maybe you were remodeling. : But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. VANESSA: I don't want to hear it!
BARRY: All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. : I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. : All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. : - Bees. VANESSA: - Park. BARRY: - Pollen! VANESSA: - Flowers. BARRY: - Re-pollination! VANESSA: - Across the nation! : Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. : They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. : Security will be tight. BARRY: I have an idea.
(Flash forward in time. Vanessa is about to board a plane which has all the Roses on board. VANESSA: Vanessa Bloome, FTD. (Holds out badge) : Official floral business. It's real. SECURITY GUARD: Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. =VANESSA== Thank you. It was a gift. (Barry is revealed to be hiding inside the brooch) (Flash back in time and Barry and Vanessa are discussing their plan) BARRY: Once inside, we just pick the right float. VANESSA: How about The Princess and the Pea? : I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! BARRY: Yes, I got it. : - Where should I sit? GUARD: - What are you? BARRY: - I believe I'm the pea. GUARD: - The pea? VANESSA:
It goes under the mattresses. GUARD: - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. VANESSA: You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! : Let's see what this baby'll do. (Vanessa drives the float through traffic) GUARD: Hey, what are you doing?! BARRY== Then all we do is blend in with traffic... : ...without arousing suspicion. : Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are about to get on a plane) SECURITY GUARD: Stop! Security. : - You and your insect pack your float? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Has it been in your possession the entire time? VANESSA: - Yes.
SECURITY GUARD: Would you remove your shoes? (To Barry) - Remove your stinger. BARRY: - It's part of me. SECURITY GUARD: I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. (Barry plotting with Vanessa) BARRY: Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are flying on the plane) Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! VANESSA: I think this is gonna work. BARRY: It's got to work. CAPTAIN SCOTT: (On intercom) Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. : We have a bit of bad weather in New York. : It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. VANESSA: Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. BARRY:
I gotta get up there and talk to them. VANESSA== Be careful. (Barry flies right outside the cockpit door) BARRY: Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. (The flight attendant opens the door and walks out and Barry flies into the cockpit unseen) BARRY: Captain, I'm in a real situation. CAPTAIN SCOTT: - What'd you say, Hal? CO-PILOT HAL: - Nothing. (Scott notices Barry and freaks out) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Bee! BARRY: No,no,no, Don't freak out! My entire species... (Captain Scott gets out of his seat and tries to suck Barry into a handheld vacuum) HAL: (To Scott) What are you doing? (Barry lands on Hals hair but Scott sees him. He tries to suck up Barry but instead he sucks up Hals toupee) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Uh-oh. BARRY: - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
HAL: (Hal doesn't know Barry is on his head) - Who's an attorney? CAPTAIN SCOTT: Don't move. (Scott hits Hal in the face with the vacuum in an attempt to hit Barry. Hal is knocked out and he falls on the life raft button which launches an infalatable boat into Scott, who gets knocked out and falls to the floor. They are both uncounscious.) BARRY: (To himself) Oh, Barry. BARRY: (On intercom, with a Southern accent) Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. : Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? (Vanessa looks confused) (Normal accent) ...And please hurry! (Vanessa opens the door and sees the life raft and the uncounscious pilots) VANESSA: What happened here? BARRY: I tried to talk to them, but then there was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. : Now one's bald, one's in a boat, and they're both unconscious! VANESSA: ...Is that another bee joke? BARRY:

• No! : No one's flying the plane! BUD DITCHWATER: (Through radio on plane) This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? VANESSA: This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. BUD: Where's the pilot? VANESSA: He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. BUD: Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? BARRY: As a matter of fact, there is. BUD:
• Who's that? BARRY:
• Barry Benson. BUD: From the honey trial?! Oh, great. BARRY: Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. : It's got giant wings, huge engines.

VANESSA: I can't fly a plane. BARRY: - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? VANESSA: - Yes. BARRY: How hard could it be? (Vanessa sits down and flies for a little bit but we see lightning clouds outside the window) VANESSA: Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. (An ominous lightning storm looms in front of the plane) (We are now watching the Bee News) BOB BUMBLE: This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, : where a suspenseful scene is developing. : Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... ADAM: That's Barry! BOB BUMBLE: ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers : and an incapacitated flight crew. JANET, MARTIN, UNCLE CAR AND ADAM: Flowers?! (The scene switches to the human news)
REPORTER: (Talking with Bob Bumble) We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls : with absolutely no flight experience. BOB BUMBLE: Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. BUD: I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. : They've done enough damage. REPORTER: But isn't he your only hope? BUD: Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. : Their wings are too small... BARRY: (Through radio) Haven't we heard this a million times? : "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense."... BOB BUMBLE: - Get this on the air! BEE: - Got it.
BEE NEWS CREW: - Stand by. BEE NEWS CREW: - We're going live! BARRY: (Through radio on TV) ...The way we work may be a mystery to you. : Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. : But let me tell you about a small job. : If you do it well, it makes a big difference. : More than we realized. To us, to everyone. : That's why I want to get bees back to working together. : That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. : We get behind a fellow. : - Black and yellow! BEES: - Hello! (The scene switches and Barry is teaching Vanessa how to fly) BARRY:
Left, right, down, hover. VANESSA: - Hover? BARRY: - Forget hover. VANESSA: This isn't so hard. (Pretending to honk the horn) Beep-beep! Beep-beep! (A Lightning bolt hits the plane and autopilot turns off) Barry, what happened?! BARRY: Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. VANESSA: - That may have been helping me. BARRY: - And now we're not! VANESSA: So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. (The plane plummets but we see Lou Lu Duva and the Pollen Jocks, along with multiple other bees flying towards the plane) Lou Lu DUva: All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! : Move out! (The scene switches back to Vanessa and Barry in the plane) BARRY: Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! (Barry sticks out his arms like an airplane and flys in front of Vanessa's face)
VANESSA: Don't have to yell. BARRY: I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. VANESSA: It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! BARRY: It's not a tone. I'm panicking! VANESSA: I can't do this! (Barry slaps Vanessa) BARRY: Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! VANESSA: (Slaps Barry) You snap out of it. BARRY: (Slaps Vanessa) : You snap out of it. VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! (We see that all the Pollen Jocks are flying under the plane) VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it!
VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - Hold it! BARRY: - Why? Come on, it's my turn. VANESSA: How is the plane flying? (The plane is now safely flying) VANESSA: I don't know. (Barry's antennae rings like a phone. Barry picks up) BARRY: Hello? LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? (All of the Pollen Jocks are carrying the plane) BARRY: The Pollen Jocks! : They do get behind a fellow. LOU LU DUVA: - Black and yellow. POLLEN JOCKS: - Hello. LOU LU DUVA: All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop. BARRY: Where? I can't see anything. Can you? VANESSA: No, nothing. It's all cloudy. : Come on. You got to think bee, Barry. BARRY: - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. (On the runway there are millions of bees laying on their backs) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. VANESSA: - What? BARRY: - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. : Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. : Bring the nose down. BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR: - What in the world is on the tarmac? BUD: - Get some lights on that!
(It is revealed that all the bees are organized into a giant pulsating flower formation) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: - Vanessa, aim for the flower. VANESSA: - OK. BARRY: Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? LOU LU DUVA: Affirmative! BARRY: Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. : Land on that flower! : Ready? Full reverse! : Spin it around! (The plane's nose is pointed at a flower painted on a nearby plane) - Not that flower! The other one! VANESSA: - Which one? BARRY: - That flower. (The plane is now pointed at a fat guy in a flowered shirt. He freaks out and tries to take a picture of the plane) VANESSA: - I'm aiming at the flower!
BARRY: That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! (The plane hovers over the bee-flower) : Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. : Rotate around it. VANESSA: - This is insane, Barry! BARRY: - This's the only way I know how to fly. BUD: Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? (The plane is unrealistically hovering and spinning over the bee-flower) BARRY: Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! : Just drop it. Be a part of it. : Aim for the center! : Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! : Come on, already. (The bees scatter and the plane safely lands) VANESSA: Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly!
BARRY: - Yes! (Vanessa is about to high-five Barry) No high-five! VANESSA: - Right. ADAM: Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? BARRY: What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! ADAM: - Thank you. BARRY: - But we're not done yet. : Listen, everyone! : This runway is covered with the last pollen : from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. : That means this is our last chance. : We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. : If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say?
: Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? BEES: We're bees! BEE WHO LIKES KEYCHAINS: Keychain! BARRY: Then follow me! Except Keychain. POLLEN JOCK #1: Hold on, Barry. Here. : You've earned this. BARRY: Yeah! : I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. (The Pollen Jocks throw Barry a nectar-collecting gun. Barry catches it) Oh, yeah. JANET: That's our Barry. (Barry and the Pollen Jocks get pollen from the flowers on the plane) (Flash forward in time and the Pollen Jocks are flying over NYC) : (Barry pollinates the flowers in Vanessa's shop and then heads to Central Park) BOY IN PARK: Mom! The bees are back! ADAM: (Putting on his Krelman hat) If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time. : I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! (The bee honey factories are back up and running) (Meanwhile at Vanessa's shop) VANESSA: (To customer) Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? : Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. (There is a room in the shop where Barry does legal work for other animals. He is currently talking with a Cow) COW: Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! : Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! BARRY: I had no idea. VANESSA: Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? BARRY: Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. MOOSEBLOOD: Sorry I'm late. COW: He's a lawyer too?
MOOSEBLOOD: Ma'am, I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. VANESSA: Have a great afternoon! : Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. BARRY: No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. VANESSA: You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? BARRY: All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. VANESSA: Thank you, Barry! (Ken walks by on the sidewalk and sees the "bee-approved honey" in Vanessa's shop) KEN: That bee is living my life!! ANDY: Let it go, Kenny. KEN: - When will this nightmare end?! ANDY: - Let it all go. BARRY: - Beautiful day to fly. POLLEN JOCK:

• Sure is. BARRY: Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. (Barry recreates the scene near the beginning of the movie where he flies through the box kite. The movie fades to black and the credits being) [--after credits; No scene can be seen but the characters can be heard talking over the credits--] You have got to start thinking bee, my friend! :
• Thinking bee!
• Me? BARRY: (Talking over singer) Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. : I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? SINGER: Oh, BarryBARRY: I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! SINGER: All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. BARRY: I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

Summary: A labor dispute coupled with an outbreak of unknown disease pushes all sides to war and a new truth.
I Was a Pilot on Strike. This is Why We Went Back to Work.
I was the second in command activist pilot in the Union based at O'Hare International, the unofficial headquarters of the strike movement. I remember when our strike started to heat up very vividly.
Fred, our Union boss, and Leo, the first in command activist, were sitting in the pilot's lounge, watching the tv coverage flash our picket lines from airports across the country. Something like “what do we want? The Package. When do we want it? Now!”
The Package was the nickname for our list of demands which included more security in the wake of the so-called Body Bombings last year, better pay and benefits, more job security, and perhaps, most controversially, cleaner fuel and fuel efficiency standards for current and future airliners.
The TV chirped up again, “well, folks its the twenty first day of the pilot strike most jets have been grounded now for the last eighteen as the pilots and their associated ground personnel unions have occupied major airports – only major international carriers at the coastal hubs are landing or departing now as we've seen a huge increase in train and car travel as we approach the fourth of july weekend. That's right, and our next top story as we gather for the holiday for first time after the omicron wave, health officials are advising to watch out for symptoms of a new skin...”
Fred hit mute on the remote. Fred was a balding, thick man, with thick arm hair, rolling over his grizzled sun burned flesh like barbed wire.
Leo lit up a cigarette. Leo was short, thin, and young in his looks but old, like faux 50's old in his heart. “There's no smoking in here, Leo,” Fred said sternly.
Leo didn't flinch.
Then Fred broke a smile and chuckled.
“Media bums aren't even interested in what we want anymore.” I said.
“Only these media bums. Follow the money.” Leo mumbled over his cancer stick. “That media group got a lot of money out of the bailout. Probably more than us.”
Fred looked at his watch, “We should probably get going.”
“Make em sweat for once, for Christ sake.” Leo nearly spat out his smoke.
“I'm with Leo on this one, Fred” I said.
So we made the negotiators sweat a little longer.
About an hour later we finally met them at the table. We sat on the left, the various airline owners sat on the right. This was the third time during the last three weeks but now, there was a new guy at the head of the table, a Federal mediator.
The Mediator had black rimmed almost square glasses, thick gray hair, and a blotchy face, “I'm calling this meeting to order. Before I present this offer, I have impress upon both sides how essential it is we start our air travel again soon, both for the holiday but also the good of the country. I am at this time presenting a voluntary compromise – officially, the Federal government supports the pilots' initiative to enhance security in the wake of the last year's incidents and we are prepared to use some of the unspent bailout money to supplement private airliner's initiatives and spending. We are also sympathetic to pilots and ground crews positions on their pay and benefits. The Federal government, however, is not, at this time, interested in imposing nor supporting job security, nor fuel charges nor efficiency standards. I yield to the industry representatives for comment.”
The chief industry rep, Michelson Connery, was a young looking, smooth talking, sleaze bag with jet black hair from New Jersey who had a habit of touching his coke inflamed nose every five minutes or so.
“You know back in Jersey, we're used to being shaken down, as they say. Now we appreciate the nice talk, we appreciate your brass knuckles and tommy guns are firmly tucked away, we appreciate you're giving us a break or too, but a shake down is a shake down none the less. No deal. I yield.”
Fred sat up in his chair, his mouth agape, he cleared his throat while adjusting his microphone, “No deal.” He flopped back into his chair.
“Before we depart,” the Mediator quelled the commotion as both parties began to leave, “As I said the federal government has a strong interest in resuming flights as soon as possible, we are considering using our unique power to impose a settlement on the Union, if necessary.”
Fred lurched forward, “What kind of power? What kind of threat is this?”
“It's no threat.” The Mediator paused, “It's a threat to a threat, if necessary, we will invoke our powers under various emergency statutes to effectively Federalize pilots and ground crews – under those provisions, we would impose work or removal provisions to settle this.”
“That's total bull!” Fred lunged at the Mediator, “You're basically telling us all they have to do is wait it until you force us back to work! And what about the future? These efficiency standards aren't just about hippie dippie environmental stuff, its about fleet upgrades, fleet safety and thus worker and pilot safety!”
“Gentlemen, please, I putting something on the table and it has neither a definite nor indefinite timeline – in the meanwhile, your adversaries are hemorrhaging cash and depreciating their capital and you're folks – especially your ground crew union, are running out savings – I suggest you both, in good faith, consider the current and official Federal position in good time to sort this out sooner than later rather than a threat of a threat become a threat. Good day.”
Within hours, each side called a respective press conference. Industry denounced the compromise set out by the Feds while we denounced their denouncement. Neither side budged and neither side disclosed the Mediator's so called “threat of a threat”. We sat on the picket lines for another week as each side floated various non-serious proposals and misinformation in the media. We found ourselves back in the pilot lounge before our next round of serious negotiations. This time Fred and Leo were both smoking while I had to exhale bad news.
“The ground crew union is gunna crack first, Industry is offering them a side deal and I think they're gunna take it. They go back to work, it's gunna be next to impossible to leverage the whole of the hubs, then the scabs come in, they'll just work around us.” I told Leo and Fred. “Then we maybe we should float lower pay increases for ourselves. Overall, you pay the few pilots a little bit more, you pay the huge ground crew nothing more, that sounds like the win for us and Industry.” Leo pitched back. “Leo, where do we stand on public support?” Fred inquired.
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
Leo clicked on the TV, “our top story tonight, farm fields across the country are now being seemingly afflicted by some kind of blight resulting in, at in some cases, widespread crop failures as the department of agriculture is mum. Meanwhile, more and more people are reporting severe skin deformations and damage while the CDC has been all but muzzled save for recommending that people stay inside and avoid direct sunlight. At this time there is speculation but no official word the crop blight and the skin disease are connected.” “See, it's all blight this, blight that.”
“So fake,” Fred said, “I've been out in the damn sun all week on the line and I've got nothing. Whatever the damn news wants to keep real progress from being made here. Anyway, I say we stay the course and we firm it up with the ground crews, have some solidarity.”
There was a knock on the door, “heh, maybe this good news.” Fred left his seat to open the door. A neutral representative walked through and announced the Federal Mediator has canceled the session. Leo and I brewed up from our seats to go raise holy hell with Fred at the mediator's delegation when all the television screens in the lounge turned to an Emergency Announcement Service message. Leo fumbled to unmute the television as the seal of the office of the President blasted on all the screens. “My fellow Americans, it is with great dismay that after nearly a month of grounded air travel across these great United States, because of a dispute over many complex issues, I am forced to use the power legislated to the executive branch by various emergency statutes, that I am announcing the immediate federalization of pilots and ground crews. Effective immediately, they will have a forty eight hour cooling off period before I am ordering them, as federal employees, to return to work or be dismissed. Also, their demands for higher pay and better benefits will be met in part by the conditions of Federal employment. I will be going to Congress, in the morning, to seek long term funding for our new national employees to secure their jobs for a long while. Any deviation from this will have significant physical consequences...”
The TV trailed off as representatives from the ground crews burst into the room in a ruckus, “Long term employment my ass! That jackass knows this is a bandaid – there's no way Congress is gunna pay us, in ninety days, we're as good as fired, begging for our old jobs with no retirement and no Unions.” Ground Crew Union Head Reggie Weston flipped off the TV. “I say, we sit on the damn runways after forty eight hours! You're with us, right? Can I get a yes yes?”
“And here we heard you were about to sell us out and now you're all about it huh?” Leo grumbled. “It was nothing like that. I swear. You know how much talk flies.” Reggie looked offended.
“I'm with Reggie, this is unbelievable, just like that our retirement plan, what? Probably gone? We're not employees anymore afterall. Forced to work – basically at gunpoint now. No. No. No.” I said. “Fred?” Leo prodded.
Fred stood there scratching his scalp in dismay and despair then he straightened himself up, took a drag off his smoke, and turned to us, “Tell all folks, we're going to war.”
We were a bit concerned some of the locals might pull off on the eve of the forty eight hour period but when the forty ninth came, they were steadfast and when they fired us, and then the cops came in, we were ready, both in the courts, and on the lines. On day four, ninety six hours after the announcement, the picket lines were more like trenches, and the pilot's lounge a war room. Each airport was a mini Battle of Blair Mountain. I had my arm wrapped up in an ice pack from a rubber bullet ricochet while Leo was still furiously blinking out yesterday's pepper spray. Fred hadn't been back from the riot on the runways.
Rocks, molotov cocktails scorch marks, and burned out tear gas canisters dotted the parking lots and tarmacs. Overturned vending machines, kiosks, and stacked chairs and tables from the food courts barricaded the concourses. A fire started in one of the hangers and it only just now started to burn itself out. They cut the power and we sweltered in that Midwest heat as we quickly discovered how poorly insulating all of the windows actually were. We had a few generators but they were being used to run the CCTV cameras which we connected to some of the TVs in the pilot's lounge so we could see which direction the next charge was coming from and send out warnings.
On the fifth day an injunction had been filed and granted against the entire federalization and the cops withdrew to their side of the no man's land. It wasn't a moment too soon as we the pilots and the ground crews were nearly depleted.
It was early that morning as the leadership started to gather in the pilot's lounge that we got our first of several mortifying discoveries.
Reggie held a flashlight to his bruised face as he announced, “We lost contact with our brothers at LAX and Denver International.”
“How? Why? Did they surrender?”
“I don't know about LAX but I got this out of Denver.” Reggie played a video on his phone. It was poorly lit and unsteady but in the dark of the early morning you could make out the sound and outline of two large transport helicopters. As they hovered for a landing, someone out of the frame shone a large flashlight against the side. The helicopters were civilian in design and bore the shield of a notorious private military contractor – the Blackdogs. Some one else shouts “get ready!” as black tactical troops streamed out of the choppers and the video abruptly ends.
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, “They're gunna try to Pinkerton us.”
“What about the damn injunction?” Leo stormed.
“It's an injunction on the feds, the cops. These are private operators. I'm assuming that they're bought and paid for by Industry.”
“You think they're gunna kill us?” Leo pondered.
It was then, the for the first time, during all of this, even after taking that rubber bullet, that I felt real fear and real uncertainty about the outcome and justness of all of it. It was the first time I considered blinking. Then it got worse.
There was a commotion at the door as some of the ground crew and pilots pulled in a makeshift stretcher with Fred laying on it.
“Oh my God, what did they do to him?” Leo exclaimed as he came to help pull him into the room. There was too many people around to see Fred clearly, something like a towel was covering most his face and head. Fred could barely speak and was clearly in some kind of distress. My thought was tear gas but none had been fired for hours and usually someone inundated with it start everyone off into similar distress.
The crowd broke as I huddled in, I shown my flashlight around him to see.
“Pull it off, pull it off, they have to see” Fred gasped.
Some of the ground crew members pulled off the towel and I could plainly see Fred's face and head – what was left of it anyway. I staggered back a step.
“It's the Blight, guys, half of the ground crew, they look like this, now!” Fred yelled. “I can't, I can't feel any of it and I can't see!”
His eyes were whited out like he had severe cataracts and his head, most of his face, and arms were encrusted in bulging, asymmetric, blotches, lesions, and black marks of various sizes and textures. It looked like he had been horribly burned.
“Hey, guys!” Reggie barked out over the shock and attempts to help Fred. “Cameras are down!”
“Well when the shit did that happen?” Leo exploded as he buzzed around the jerry rigged monitors hoping to get signal back.
I picked up my radio and asked everyone to report in, the south, east, and west reported but the north was just static.
Leo tried to rally some of the guys helping Frank to head to the north but they and Fred protested saying there weren't enough guys without the Blight to go stop a push if there was one. Everyone was silent just a moment and in that moment we heard the sound of some thirty guns cocking just outside of the pilot's lounge door.
“Fred Little, Leo Jones, and Mark Debs, step out of the lounge slowly and peacefully, we wish to negotiate the end of this.”
“Fred is incapacitated,” I yelled back with a dry mouth, “Reggie Weston of the Ground Crew Union, Leo and I stepping down. Don't shoot.” I said sheepishly.
Leo and Reggie looked to me to push open the door as I did I was immediately blinded by the tactical lights of some twenty or so submachine guns.
The same voice came again, “keep stepping through the lights, that's it, nice and slow, no one is going to hurt you. I just want to talk and show you something.”
Leo and I made it past the lights into a glare lit spot of the terminal where the commander of this platoon of Blackdogs with his two personal retinue stood with their helmets off, “I'm commander Don Doughty. I'm here on behalf of country and I would like to share something with you.”
“Commander, with all due respect, there's an injunction in place.”
“I know, that's why this is a private operation, not a military or police one.”
“Look, we don't have to go with you.”
“Look, you do. Now I'm going to level with both of you. We stormed the other airports today, you probably heard, a lot of my company men are hurt, a few near death, but we know you're not holding out. We know most of you have the Blight now and that's why we're here.”
“Why you're here, huh? No dedicated medical personnel, no biohazard suits? Kind of strange for what you're saying is a mission of medical mercy for a disease of unknown origin?” Leo perked up.
“It's not unknown. In fact, it's one of the most common diseases around. What is still unknown is if I have to drag you to what I want to show you or if you'll come willingly.”
Leo and I looked at each other and then back at Don. He was disarming and rational, something I hardly expected but he also had our number and between the Blight and the willingness of the government to now literally put guns to our heads to go back to work, I had so many questions and he was offering the answers. Leo and I went willing. We stepped out of the terminal and took a motorized cart to the fuel hangers as Don requested.
On the cart, Don started to open up, “Leo, Mark, tell me what you know about chemtrails.”
Leo scoffed while I replied, “chemtrails, yeah, I've some whacko come up to me in a few bars shouting in my ear about how as a pilot I am unwittingly spraying geo-engineering materials to change the Earth or make global warming real or spreading COVID or nerve gas in contrails. The kookiness seems to change by season. Why?”
“Next question. Do either of you know what CFC's are?”
Leo piped up, “Chloroflorocarbons, I think. They used to be used in fridges and spray cans before they were banned in the 80's – virtually globally because they were screwing up the ozone layer.”
We arrived at the hanger where the fuel was stored. Another small group of Blackdog troopers had one of the ground crew members in detention near the partially open sliding door. His badge was gone but I recognized the ground crew member as part of the fuel truck lead team.
“What does this have to do with anything?” I asked. As we all were led into the hanger where the fuel trucks were stored.
Don, out of no where saluted the fuel truck leader. To my astonishment, the fuel truck leader saluted back. They shared a “semper fi – once a marine – always a marine!” and then Don beckoned him, “show them, it's okay, show them what you know, show them what you do.”
The fuel trucker turn a spigot on the back of the fuel truck nearest to him and splashed some jet fuel from the truck on the hanger floor and then shone a UV flashlight on it and the truck without any change. He muttered out, “Ordinary jet fuel.” Then, turning to the truck adjacent to him, he shone the same uv light and there was a square code marking that appeared on the back of the truck. He turned the spigot on that truck, splashed out a bit of the fuel and then shone the light on it. The fuel reflected back a dazzling brilliant display of glow as it flowed across the concrete. “Not so ordinary jet fuel.”
“Now you see gentlemen, for the past fifty years or so, we've known that CFCs were impacting the ozone layer and created a hole, you were told, like everyone else, that the hole was healing and mostly fixed after we banned CFC's and other substances. Well, in truth, that's only partially correct, its healing or mostly fixed because we fixed it, or more accurately, because the great people who work in the sky and ground, by sheer volume of air travel across the world, had been burning this modified fuel, depositing its unique chemical composition into the atmosphere at altitude to keep that ozone hole closed or at least as protective as possible. Without it, well, look at your boss, look at the fields of crops failing across the country, look at the hospitals around the country filling up with ionizing radiation burn and cancer victims. Without you, there's holes in the ozone breaking open all over the North American continent.”
“We really have been spraying chemtrails this whole time.” Reggie murmured.
“Now, let me explain to you how this is going to work – as we speak, other Blackdogs, funded by the Federal government, are infiltrating every airport in the country and showing the rest of your leadership the same thing you just saw. We're also showing this to Industry. We're getting you the Mediator's deal. You'll have your old jobs back, and while a handful of you will go to jail for the rioting, none of you will be convicted of felonies or serve time. That's the deal. All you have to say is yes and tell everyone to go back to work now and then, with you all back in the air and back on the ground, the Blight will end.
In the end we went back to work, we took the deal. If you can call it a deal. It wasn't a deal but essentially a reboot with a cost of living increase. The other option was that some of us would be imprisoned, fined, be out of a job and oh yes, Leo, Reggie, and I shot on spot.
We were sworn to secrecy over the truth about the ozone layer and chemtrails but I'm breaking it. I'm breaking it because you deserve the truth. I know that this will end up in the internet gutter realm of aliens and bigfoot but I don't care. I'm big guy, a big name, and if anything happens to me, like an “accident”, I'm pretty sure that would only lend credence to what I've told you here.
Happy landings.
Theo Plesha

Selling stuff for money. Bundle deals are absolutely welcome and appreciated. Prices were pulled from pricecharting & verified with recent, like-condition sold eBay listings.
Game Boys

• Game Boy Color: Full mod treatment: New aftermarket atomic purple shell, purple membranes, transparent green buttons, slider and IR sensor. Q5 IPS v2 with brightness/screen controls via touch pad at the top of the console. Pics $175
  
• Game Boy Color: Full mod treatment: New aftermarket white shell, black buttons, Q5 IPS screen. Pics $170
  
• Game Boy Advance SP: Aftermarket screen (I honestly don't remember which one I put in here), shell, buttons, and battery. Pics $175
  
• Game Boy Advance: Indigo, dropped in an AGS-101 screen and used the original housing, but replaced the lens. Pics $175
  

PlayStation Games & Consoles Take all the PS2 games for $180$130, take all the PS3 games for $58$40

Title	Console & Notes	Price
Console PlayStation 2 Slim SCPH-90001	Loose	Comes with OEM A/V, OEM black controller & a power cord. Tested & works great. Feel free to include any 5 of the $4 & less games for this purchase price. $90
Console PlayStation 3 CECHE01	Mostly complete in box in quite nice condition 80GB backwards-compatible console, never been opened (original thermal paste, so take that as you will), reset to factory default at software 4.81. Comes with original box (matching serial number to console in decent condition, some wear, tear on the bottom corner), instructional inserts, cardboard inserts, Sixaxis OEM wireless controller (no mini USB cable unfortunately), power cord (no HDMI). Pics	$400
American Chopper	PS2	$5
Arctic Thunder	PS2	$5
Cabelas Big Game Hunter 2005 Adventures	PS2	$3
Call of Duty: Finest Hour	PS2	$4
Call of Duty: Finest Hour (Greatest Hits)	PS2	$4
Conflict Desert Storm 2	PS2	$7
Crash n' Burn	PS2	$5
Eragone	PS2	$4
Flatout	PS2 (loose)	$4
Flatout	PS2	$7
The Getaway	PS2	$5
The Getaway (loose)	PS2	$3
Guitar Hero 2	PS2	$10
Hitman 2 (Greatest Hits)	PS2	$8
IHRA Drag Racing 2	PS2	$3
Jet Li Rise to Honor	PS2	$4
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Greatest Hits)	PS2	$4
Madden 07	PS2	$4
Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater	PS2 (loose)	$8
MX Unleashed	PS2	$5
MX vs ATV Unleashed	PS2 (loose)	$5
NBA 2K9	PS2	$3
Pop Cap Hits Vol 1 Bejeweled & Astro Pop	PS2	$4
Ratchet & Clank: Going Commando (Greatest Hits)	PS2	$8
Ratchet & Clank: Up Your Arsenal	PS2	$10
Smackdown! vs. Raw	PS2	$10
Smuggler's Run	PS2	$5
SRS Street Racing Syndicate	PS2	$5
Starsky & Hutch	PS2	$5
Strike Force Bowling	PS2	$4
Tetris Worlds	PS2	$5
Tiger Woods PGA Tour 02	PS2	$3
Tiger Woods PGA Tour 05	PS2 (loose)	$3
Tiger Woods PGA Tour 06	PS2	$3
TOCA Race Driver 2	PS2	$5
Tom Clancy Ghost Recon	PS2	$4
Tom Clancy Splinter Cell	PS2	$4
Trigger Man	PS2	$3
World Championship Poker	PS2	$5
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3	PS3	$5
Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (Base game with map)	PS3	$10
Grand Theft Auto IV	PS3	$8
Killzone 3	PS3 CIB	$5
Little Big Planet Greatest Hits	PS3	$5 Sold to mucho-gusto
Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe Greatest Hits	PS3	$8
Rocksmith	PS3	$5
Rock Band 2	PS3	$8
Sports Champions	PS3	$4
Rock Band 4: Rivals	PS4 - Includes unredeemed Rivals code	$65

Nintendo Games & Consoles

Title	Console & Notes	Price
Skylanders Trap Team/Swap Force/Lego Dimensions	Wii U Bundle - CIB	$10
Hip Hop Dance Experience	Wii (loose)	$25 Yeah, I know
LEGO Star Wars The Complete Saga	Wii	$5
Price is Right	Wii (loose)	$3
Spongebob Squarepants: Creature from the Krusty Krab	Wii - CIB	$10
Super Smash Bros Brawl	Wii Pics	$10
Wii Play	Wii	$5
Wii Sports	Wii	$15
Horsez	NDS CIB	$4
Imagine Fashion Designer	NDS CIB	$4
MahJong Quest	NDS CIB	$4
My Farm: Around the World	NDS CIB	$4
Mario Kart 7	3DS (loose)	$10
Quad Desert Fury	GBA CIB	$5
Lion King	SNES	$8
Tiny Toons Adventures: Buster Busts Loose	SNES	$10
Accessory Wavebird DOL-004	NGC - No receiver, no battery back cover, tested & works well	$20
Accessory Lot of GBA(SP) Parts	As is - no motherboards. Tons of buttons, OEM shells, etc. See photos for details.	$100

Xbox Games Take all for $18$10

Title	Console & Notes	Price
Grand Theft Auto IV	X360 - Platinum Hits	$10
MLB 2K9	X360 - CIB	$3
NBA 2K12	X360 - CIB	$5

Cases *No games, just cases & inserts on games that originally had them.

Title	Console	Notes/Price
Kirby Star Allies	NS	$4
Mario Kart 8 Deluxe	NS	$4
Splatoon 2	NS	$4
Super Mario Party	NS	$4
Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga + Bowser's Minions	3DS	(Red case, some liquid marking on the artwork) $10

Shipping costs are not included in prices and will be calculated based upon location. Thanks for looking!

Three days ago, my housemates were alive.
And I wasn't losing my fucking mind.
Three days ago, I awoke to my housemate, Misty, shaking me.
“Get up!!”
Misty was usually the last to roll out of bed out of all of us, so I figured it was something important. My housemate wouldn’t get out of bed for nothing. She valued her sleep—often comparing her bed to a safe haven. Her place of solitude. I was right there with her, until she startled me out of slumber. I opened my eyes to find her face roughly three inches from mine, her expression lit up with excitement I couldn’t justify this early in the morning.
She smelled of toothpaste breath and her raspberry scented body wash. Her thick black curls framing her face were still damp from what I presumed was a shower, hanging in tangled knots in front of wide, almost unseeing eyes. When I first met her, Misty Kang had been my crush for a while. With a Korean father and a Texan mother, she definitely caught eyes when we hung out. We had a thing in freshman year, which quickly fizzled out once we started living together. Never date your housemates.
I will just say that.
Over the last few years, Misty has become one of my closest friends.
When she knew I was at least conscious, my housemate was grabbing my arm and yanking me out of bed. “Get up!”
I was barely awake, and those were the only words I could fully distinguish.
I shooed her away for a moment and swung my legs out of bed, taking a minute to blink sunlight out of my eyes coming through the blinds. “Sam.” Misty was in front of me again.
I don’t think she understood the concept of being half asleep.
She wouldn’t leave me alone, waving her arms wildly. Her shadow under the soft morning light almost reminded me of one of those inflatable tube guys.
“Huh?” My voice was a low croak, and her smile widened.
“Guess who’s just scored tickets for an actual screening of the first five minutes of gameplay for the most anticipated game of the decade?”
“What?” Her string of words wasn’t making sense in my caffeine deprived mind. It just sounded like gibberish to me, initially.
Like we were in some cheesy commercial, she was the lead, and I was the confused NPC with the WTF expression. But when I went over it in my head, words started to slide together like a jigsaw puzzle. Misty didn’t get excited about video games. Well, she did. Though, my housemate was one to get excited on behalf of someone else. After living with her for a while now, I had concluded she was a follower.
By that, I mean whatever others thought or did or said, she copied it. If her Twitter followers were mad at bad takes, she would drop all of her own opinions on said follower and focus on what other people said. We had Korean barbecue for takeout the other day, and Misty clearly did not like it from the creased look on her face, and her very obviously spitting it politely into a napkin.
Jay, my other housemate, liked it.
And so did I. So, naturally, Misty announced she wanted more.
I had to watch her suffer through two more portions before she excused herself—presumably to throw up. Blinking at my housemate who was clearly excited for Jay, I resisted the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes.
“Slow down. What game? What are you talking about?”
I got out of bed and threw on my robe, half aware of the mess from last night on my desk. Another attempt to finish an essay which just wasn’t happening. The monster energy cans and takeout Chinese wrappers were embarrassing. I got a basic run-through as I headed downstairs with Misty right behind me, practically breathing down my neck. From what I understood, there was a Reddit post.
That was all I got from Misty’s squealing. She leapt down the stairs after me with a spring in her step. The clock above the front door told me it wasn’t even 9am. The smell of bacon, however, was quick to arise me from the dead.
Jay was in the kitchen making breakfast. I noticed his laptop was open on the table, and every so often he’d peer at it with wide, almost disbelieving eyes. Jay and Misty were complete opposites, which made them great people to live with. Jay was a quiet book who was slightly on the pretentious side, routinely quoting something philosophical to piss me off.
He had rich parents on the other side of the world, but the guy himself was fairly humble and had mostly detached himself from said family.
My housemate was usually well put together. In fact, I barely saw him in his pajamas, excluding game nights. That morning, however, he was a disheveled mess, still in yesterday’s clothes.
He offered me a grin. I glimpsed sauce from last night’s dinner still staining his chin. Jay hadn’t brushed his hair or even put on deodorant.
I caught a whiff of BO when he ducked in front of me, his gaze glued to his MacBook. It was rare when Jay ignored basic hygiene, so yeah, I was going to guess this was a pretty huge thing. “I did tell her not to wake you up, y’know.”
His slight aussie accent was always refreshing on a morning. Born in Australia and moving to the states when he was ten years old, Jay still had a slight tinge in his accent. I had seen pictures of his family, and the guy had definitely gotten most of his dad’s genes, thick brown hair, and freckles. While his dad was built like a pro wrestler however, Jay was leaner like his mom.
I shrugged. “I was already awake.”
“Liar.” He didn’t look away from his laptop.
Looking closer, I glimpsed the Reddit homepage.
“So, you have won something.”
Jay didn’t answer. I could tell he was excited by the way he could barely keep still, bustling around the kitchen, barefoot. “Coffee?”
His voice was more of a Misty-like squeak, and I half wondered for a moment if they had switched bodies, or he had at least become one with my other housemate through a chemical explosion. In our kitchen, which was yet to be cleaned after a cooking disaster several nights ago, I wouldn’t be surprised if something was living on the countertop. I nodded, slumping into a chair. “What’s going on? Why is Misty freaking out?” I nodded at his laptop. “She said you’ve won something?”
As if my housemate couldn’t hold it in anymore, he nodded, turning his screen towards me. “You know____, right?”
“Yes.” I sipped my coffee, eyeing a toaster strudel sitting on the countertop. "You mean the game which has been coming out for a decade."
He ignored that. “Well, what if I told you one of the developer’s posted on the official sub this morning?”
“For _____?"
He nodded with a grin, and I wondered it this was one of those rare times when Jay was blindly looking through a red flag to see what he wanted. I had heard of these types of scams, and Reddit was a breeding ground for them.
Gamers were pretty intense. I didn’t realize I was pulling a face until I caught his lips curving into a smile. Jay was usually the skeptical one.
“You don’t believe me.”
I downed my coffee to avoid replying. When I had drained the cup, he was still staring at me with amused eyes.
“What?”
“You think it’s bullshit.”
I shrugged. “You said it,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that game isn’t even partway through development. Didn’t Twitter leak a still last year? Also, they’ll be bringing out a new console before that game comes out.”
I leaned back in my chair. “It’s more of a pipe dream, at this point.”
“The leaks were fake,” Even he didn’t look sure. “Anyway, that’s not the point. One of the dev’s posted on the official sub this morning. He asked if we were all excited for the new game, asked if we could post some of our favorite NPC dialogue, and he’ll DM winners.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded at the screen. I had already checked my phone for an internet meltdown concerning this post, but there was nothing. “And where is that post now?”
Jay didn’t look at me. “It was deleted. So it only reached a certain number of people.”
“Oh, it was deleted?” I couldn’t resist a smile. “What a coincidence.”
When I laughed, Jay scowled, showing me his screen—navigating his trackpad to his Reddit DM’s.
To my surprise, there was actually a message from what I guessed was a throw-away account.
While I was skim reading the DM, Misty hurried in, all dressed and ready for the day. I peeked at her outfit from Jay's laptop. Cute.
Extravagant, but cute. My housemate cranked the radio up before bouncing between us, a toaster strudel hanging out of her mouth.
Misty was a living animated character. Ignoring her wide smile, I turned back to the screen. “Congratulation!!” The DM started with capitals.
It took me reading it twice to realize there was a clear spelling mistake. I sent Jay a pointed look, but he was too busy practically vibrating with excitement. If the guy had any more caffeine, he was going to explode. “Since when did winning DM’s start with a typo?”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Jay curled his lip. “They were clearly excited when typing the message.”
“But this is supposedly an official,” I said. “Surely they would make sure it’s professional?”
My housemate didn’t reply, shooting a look at Misty, who rolled her eyes.
“Wow.” I squinted at the screen. “I am so sorry for caring about your safety. You do realize these types of scam’s usually end up with you being sold on the black market, right?”
I shuddered. “I’ve heard horror stories about underground markets specializing in illegal organ harvesting.”
“Or…” Jay’s eyes were glued to the screen. “You could be happy for me?”
I frowned at the rest of the message, which was just a capitalized freak-out about the upcoming release of the game, before inviting Jay (and a friend!) to a five-minute preview of gameplay, as well as a Q&A. There was a location and a time, which was brow-raising. “10 at night.” I said. “Who hosts a gaming convention at 10pm?” I leaned my chin on my fist. “Unless they wanted to lure as many gullible people as possible, and ship them to some organ harvesting factory on the other side of the world.”
Jay scoffed. “That’s dark.”
“You’re actually considering going to a 10pm gaming convention in the middle of nowhere. I’m trying to wake you up.”
Jay nudged me that time. “It’s real. Relax.”
“And.” I pointed to the screen. “No phones? Why would they ask you not to bring your phones?”
“To stop us filming content,” Misty sang. “Duh.”
I groaned, leaning back in my chair. “You’re on his side? This is clearly shady!” I didn’t get mad unless something was seriously pissing me off, and this was one of those times. Jay was a smart guy. There was no way he was falling for this bullshit. I thought he was joking around when he spent the day tracking the location on Google Maps. I went to class like normal and got updates through text. At lunch, Jay agreed with me and said it was in fact shady, and he wasn’t going. By afternoon classes, he was texting me in paragraphs explaining his own skepticism but had found several “friends” on an online forum who were also going and had changed his mind once again. The guy couldn’t make up his mind. He was driving me crazy.
Misty sent me several videos of Jay pacing the kitchen with his MacBook in his hands. She was broadcasting his mental breakdown via Instagram stories. But then she started to send me pictures of herself in different outfits, asking me for my opinion on each one. At that point, I turned my phone off. My housemates had lost their fucking minds. I did my own research though, just to make sure I wasn’t actually going to lose them to a shady cult.
I searched for the game itself, but just as I thought, it was shown as still in development. Every “update” was just fan speculation.
There were YouTube videos and TikTok’s of fake leaks, but nothing was real. It was either AI generated, or badly edited. By the time my classes had ended and I had turned my phone on, I had a barrage of missed calls and texts.
Most of them were from Misty with her outfit changes, and Jay changing his mind again.
This time he was convinced it was all a scam, his texts full of typos and crying emoji's which he never used. Before it hit me that Misty was most likely using his phone to text me.
I was right. When I walked through the door, I was greeted by both of them sitting on the stairs. Misty was scrolling through Jay’s phone, while the boy had his head in his hands. According to Misty’s last text, he was back to being excited to go.
From the look on his face, eyes shadowed with sleep circles, light brown curls slipping from under his hood, I wasn’t sure what Misty meant by “excited”. The guy looked the complete opposite. His mind had been consumed by the game, and the idea of seeing new content.
When I dropped my bag and folded my arms, fixing the two of them with my best disapproving parent look, Misty jumped to her feet. “Sam!” she waved Jay’s phone at me. “Did you get my texts? We’re actually going now!”
The 100+ texts on both messenger and iMessage said otherwise.
I nodded, my gaze on Jay. “Both of you do realize it’s a scam, right?” I softened my tone despite growing progressively more irritated. We were grown adults, not kids. I could understand a group of teenagers falling for it, but two twenty-three-year-olds?
This time, I ducked in front of Jay. “Hey.” I pulled down his hood, and he groaned, burying his head in his knees. “I don’t want to freak you out, so listen to me, okay?”
I exhaled out a breath. “I’m not saying something bad is going to happen to you, because it most likely won’t—and yes, I admit I’m being paranoid.” When he lifted his head, blinking through bedraggled curls, there was a faint smile on his lips. “But.” I said. “You are most likely going to end up disappointed. Which I don’t want, because you won't shut up about it for weeks."
I was only partly joking.
For a moment, I thought my housemate was going to wake up, and nod, laughing at how crazy it was.
Before shook his head and jumped up.
“I’m going to take a shower, alright? I should start getting ready."
I admit, I exploded at him.
We argued while he was in the shower, and I paced up and down the hallway, coming up with multiple reasons why he was definitely going to die, and only two positives if it was in fact real. In the end, I gave up worrying all together. I didn’t say anything when the two of them were hurrying around looking for shoes and missing car keys. I didn’t realize they were gone until the door was clanging shut, and a text was coming through. I didn’t look at it until an hour later, and I had calmed down.
Jay: 1h ago: Stop worrying, lmao. We’re good! I’ll keep my phone just in case. I’ll make sure to avoid the organ harvesting 😉
Another from Misty a few minutes later: “Love you! Chillll, kay? 😭😭 It’s going to be fun! I’ll take pics!”
…
Followed by: “Oh shit, we can’t. I’ll try to sneak some!"
Attached to the text was a photo of the two of them. Misty with a wide smile and a peace sign, and Jay who looked like he was mid-shout, his eyes on the road.
Those texts were… at least comforting, I guessed. Maybe they were right. I figured I was paranoid, and they in fact would really be okay.
But that didn’t stop the anxious coil in my gut when I tried to force down takeout pizza. I attempted to focus on my essay to distract myself, but I couldn’t stop glancing at my phone, and checking Twitter. There was a hashtag on the DM, which was just “PlayStationGO.” When I searched for it, however, nothing came up.
Sure, it was a private convention and only a select few knew about it, but nothing could escape Twitter.
Somewhere, someone must be talking about it. After scrolling through endless tweets though, I realized I was wrong. There was nothing.
That put a bad taste in my mouth.
10pm came, and I held my breath all the way through a Netflix TV show I was forcing myself to watch, half asleep, slumped at my desk.
I could barely distinguish the plot.
I just had a vague idea of the character names, and some of their motivations.
Midnight passed, and I was struggling to stay awake.
I glanced at my phone.
No messages, just a notification from Spotify reminding me my favorite band was playing nearby.
1am.
Still nothing. I fell back to sleep.
2:48am.
This time, I stayed awake for a few minutes glaring at my phone before my eyes grew heavy.
3:16: am.
My phone buzzed with a text from Jay, but I could barely desipher it: "can't feel help my head hurts Canshdhsn727272_6798mi/!! _&go home please. (Sent from: PlayStationGo™️ BETA)."
3:27: am.
3:54: am. I was wide awake, blinking at a notification which had popped up from an unknown number. I was trying to figure out what number it was, when my phone vibrated again and I almost jumped out of my skin.
After a moment of hesitation, I answered it.
I was trying so hard not to think of the possibility of it being the emergency room, or even worse, the cops.
All of my worst nightmares had come true in a single second.
“Hello?” I whispered in a croak.
“Are they in the house with you?” The stranger’s voice came through in a hiss of interference.
His words sent my mediocre dinner lurching back up my throat. “What?” I managed to get out. “Who?”
“Your friends.” He said, and I leapt to unsteady feet, my gut twisting and turning.
“No.” I found myself taking slow strides toward the window, brushing back the curtain and peering out into the night. “Why? Did something happen to them?” I paused.
“How did you get my number?”
“That does not matter.” His voice rattled in my ear as I rushed downstairs, almost stumbling down the bottom two. “I need you to get out of that house. Now. Get as far away as possible.”
I could hear his rapid breaths.
He was driving. I could hear the rumble of the engine. With my phone pressed to my ear, I obeyed his instructions, pulling open the door and stepping out into the cool night, a brisk breeze grazing my bare arms was just enough to stop my thoughts spiraling.
I was barefoot, in nothing but a robe, staggering down the driveway. The night was calm and silent; our neighborhood was asleep, each window drowned in darkness. I couldn’t breathe, my clammy fingers wrapped around my phone, as this stranger broke down over the phone. “Whatever you do,” he gasped out.
“Do not, I repeat DO NOT remove the PlayStationGo—shit!! He hissed out, static rattling the call. The guy seemingly got ahold of himself, and the wheel, and continued. I started to walk—where I was going, I had no idea.
The stranger lit a cigarette. I heard the click of a lighter and his exhalation of breath. “It was a BETA version, but we had to rush it. This was not my idea. My boss is a greedy man. He wanted to release the game last year, which would have meant widespread infection. Luckily, that did not happen. We did manage to delay it, but only by a year.” His words barely made sense to me as I struggled to get a word in, peering in the dark. “It was supposed to be a virtual experience of the game—a whole new angle of gameplay. But testing was difficult. First, on monkey’s, we lost multiple subjects. Tonight was supposed to be a…well, I guess you could call it out first attempt on human subjects,” his laugh was bitter. “I knew the tech wasn’t finished. And I tried. Believe me, I fucking tried. I tried to blow the whistle, but these bastards know where my parents live."
Something squirmed its way down my spine.
“So my friends were lab rats?” I said stiffly. “You used them?”
I fucking knew it.
I knew it was too good to be true.
“Yes and no. Listen to me, the people I work for are hunting them down. Trust me, I don’t want my bosses to find them because a life of experimentation will await them. Torture. Do you hear me? It does not matter if subjects fail. They don’t care. As long as there is at least a light at the end of the tunnel for them, they will see it as a win, and bring the publication date closer. They will not be treated as humans. Your friends signed a contract before trying out the tech, where the small print stated that, under section 3, player engagement, all subjects must agree to offer themselves as participants in later updates. I silently cursed Jay for always skipping the terms and conditions when buying games." The man stopped to breathe.
“I have told you multiple times, and I won’t say it again. Get as far away from that house as possible. I will take care of them. I will make sure of it." The sound of squealing engines, and I stopped power walking, coming to an abrupt stop. The silence of the night around me, compared to the sound of the highway he was on, traffic horns and the wind rushing through the window was an eerie contrast, a disturbance to the heavenly bubble we were trapped in.
“What do you mean ‘take care of them?” I had to swallow a yell. “Hey! What are you talking about?
“I’m sorry.” Was all he replied with. “I’m afraid it is too late. There was once an opportunity to save the mind during the initial level of the demonstration. However, once the PlaystationGo has been fully attached to the base of the subject, we no longer have control of it. Once integrating itself into the cerebral cortex, the PlayStationGo can only be removed by signing out of the player’s account,” his breath was heavy. “On this unfortunate occasion, however, your friends are unable to navigate the system due to a malfunction which scrambled their brains,” He trailed off. “Which has left them stranded in the game."
I let out a breath. “Right.” I said. “That’s.. bad. I mean, it’s a fucked-up piece of technology, but they’re just playing a game, right?”
There was a pause, before the man laughed.
“Young man, I don’t think you understand,” he said. “The PlayStationGo was created to give the player a full virtual experience of our game. The PlayStationGo is not a physical object. Created with nanotechnology, it attaches itself to the subject’s brain and is supposed to create a personal gaming experience for each player. As I said, however, it is not finished. It is yet to be released to the public, and of course, we are expecting certain ethical arguments due to the controversial—”
I pulled the phone away from my ear, shaking my head. I didn’t need to hear his attempts at trying to save his own skin.
“You need to help them,” I whispered. “Do you hear me? Can you do that? Can you help them?!”
“That is what I am trying to tell you,” He said.
“I know you are upset and confused, and believe me, I offer my apologies. But you need to listen to facts. During initial testing, our subjects were conscious enough to know where their home was. We are unsure why this happens, though we have linked it to territory, as well as the main character of the game heavily influencing their actions. I have been tracking them from the testing facility, and they are incredibly close. Please get as far away from there as possible. If you are no longer in the vicinity of the house, I can end this quickly and quietly before we gain attention.”
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. Maybe start fucking screaming at him, because he was talking about getting “rid” of my friends, after their mistake.
“Do you understand me?” He said, when I couldn’t reply. “Your friends are lost causes!”
Before I could answer, though, headlights were suddenly coming around the corner, and I found myself paralysed to the spot. The car which swerved twice, crashed into several trash cans, before reversing and coming straight towards me, was not Jay’s car. Jay’s car was an old hunk of junk he’d gotten from a scrapyard. Jay’s car had doors which were practically hanging off, and a stereo which exclusively played either static gibberish, or old tapes I had no idea how to use. This car was bright yellow, and definitely had an option to drive itself. When the car came to a stop, inches from careening into me, I lost all control of myself.
I was vaguely aware of my phone slipping from my fingers and hitting the sidewalk. But I was too busy staring at the two shadows in the front of the car. The driver, and the passenger.
And the muffled screaming coming from the trunk.
When the door swung open, a figure stepping out, I did not recognise my housemate.
The stranger told me I wouldn't, but I didn't believe him.
Jay had left the house in casual jeans and a sweater, bearing the game's logo.
Now, I found myself face to face with a man with my housemate's face and features, his smile and eyes-- but something had been severed in his eyes and twisted in his expression. For one, Jay was wearing a suit I knew he couldn't afford, the sleeves torn, collar pulled open, smears of red staining the front.
His pants had cufflinks, and the Rolex on his wrist had definitely been pulled off someone's corpse.
The silver was stained a revealing scarlet. Drinking in his face, he looked like Jay. His curls hung in front of his eyes, freckles speckling his cheeks, but everything else wasn't. It wasn't until I was glimpsing what was moulded into the flesh of his hand, did I remember how to move. But then I was taking all of him in, everything my mind had intentionally skipped, because I didn't want to believe the stranger on the phone. Nanotechnology, the man had said in a hiss.
Fiction, I had thought.
Before I saw the reality of it, a writhing metallic like substance glued to the guy's temple, and slowly, very slowly, inching down his cheek, already forming around the bridge of his ear, a very faint blue light flickering.
Something must have alerted him. His cavernous eyes left mine, and he twisted his head—and I heard the sound of his neck snapping, his head lolling to the left slightly, his eyes flickering. I watched his whole body seem to sway back and forth, ready to fall forwards.
Before the newly formed device on his ear turned red, then green.
It was almost like he was… rebooting. As if coming back to life, Jay lifted his head at an awkward angle, before looking straight through me. The blood vessels in his eyes had popped, rivulets of red beading down his face. He should have been dead, I thought. No. No, he was dead. That… that thing was keeping him alive. “Well, shiiiittt,” he said. I could sense the game dialogue which had taken over him, forming on his mangled tongue.
“I’m a man on a mission.”
In jerking movements, he turned and marched back towards the car, opening the door, and sliding into the front seat.
I remembered how to move, ducking to grab my phone, before something slammed into the back of my head—and I saw stars.
I didn’t remember hitting the floor, only the soft sound of her voice, a seductive murmur repeating NPC dialogue, and her kitten heel sticking into my spine, forcing me onto my face.
Misty. I was expecting her to get it over with. But when she dragged me to my feet, sticking the barrel of a gun into the flesh of my neck—I figured she was still playing the game.
Twisting around to meet her eyes, lifeless and empty, only filled with light from the device which had taken over half of her face, I felt sick to my stomach. This thing wasn’t a games console or a virtual reality headset.
It was an attempt at coercing and programming something you already don’t understand, to do something impossible.
I could see that in the way the things had visibly chewed and eaten through her flesh, devouring her from the inside and out. I could see what was left of the dress she had worn earlier, but something must have gone wrong with her too. Because Misty had thrown on another outfit over the top, a diamond necklace hanging from her neck.
I caught a thin river of red pooling down her right temple, trying to ignore the twitchy way she moved, just like a character. From the way Misty walked, stumbling, I already knew she was gone. My housemate had newly acquired strength, throwing me in the trunk of the car where three other hostages were, and slamming it shut on my attempts to reason with her. She didn’t tie me up or restrain me.
In the dim light I could just make out though passing streetlights, I could see the trunk opened from the inside. Which was too easy.
Still though, Jay was driving recklessly, and every time I tried to throw the damn thing open, I was knocked backwards, rolling into a screaming girl, who was bound by her hands and feet. It took me multiple attempts before I had the trunk open, freezing cold air blasting me in the face. I untied the other hostages, but when I told them to come with me, they just stared blankly at me, and continued begging for their lives—and it only took me glimpsing what was attached to their temples, a familiar writhing metal plate, for me to understand. They too were playing the game. This time, as NPC hostages.
I found myself gingerly touching the trembling metallic flesh of the girl's fingers bound in rope. It had a slimy consistency, and I swore, I felt something bite into me.
No way, I thought.
This thing was sentient, yes. But it wasn't living.
Listen, I wish I could tell you what it was like to jump out of a moving car, but I can’t.
I remember it as lunging out of the trunk, hitting the freezing cold air, before hitting the ground head first, neutron star collisions exploding in the backs of my eyes.
What I do remember is waking up on the side of the road. Hours later. The sky was bright blue, a scorching sun blinding me when I managed to force my eyes open.
The early morning rush hour flew by as normal, and I wondered how ignorant American people had to be to ignore someone knocked out on the side of the road.
It’s not like I was nowhere near civilization. There was a fucking Subway right next to me.
When I had gathered myself, I remembered I had no phone. I couldn’t go home in fear of running into my rogue housemates playing their own fucked up version of _____ in their head. My plan was to try and find my phone, get in contact with the stranger who blew the whistle on my friends being dangerous, and find them. They couldn’t be far., right? And even if they weren’t themselves… someone would be able to save them.
If someone could do this to them, surely they could reverse it.
I felt sick, tired, and I was starving.
So, with some loose cash I’d found in my pocket, I bought a Subway and a Coke.
The woman at the counter smiled widely at me. She leaned forward, with a wink. “Nice cosplay!”
Cosplay?
I didn’t understand what she meant until I swore I felt something… move its way up my pant leg. I ignored it, and it happened again, this time it felt like something was… biting.
A bug, maybe? I had been laying on the side of the road for around six hours.
When I went to the bathroom, though, I found myself staring at an all too familiar glint of silver creeping its way across my temple. Like it was sentient, parts of it sider webbed towards my ear while the rest writhed into my hairline.
I pulled up my pant leg again, and there it was, a fungus-like metal substance which had already formed in two solid metal masses on my knees. I remember grazing two fingers across the thing beginning its slow feast of my flesh. I remember trying to pull it off, hissing in pain when I risked ripping off my own skin with it. I remember shaking my head and being in denial, even when the lights dimmed above me, and the bathroom door in front of me became more of a shadow. When I strode back through the Subway store, I began to see slight flickers of light above each person, highlighting something not quite there yet.
I could see it already starting, beginning to take over my thoughts. Cars which sped past were suddenly highlighted, and at the corner of my eye, if I concentrated, the outline of a map was starting to appear. Even now, when the room is almost completely taken over by shadow, and my thoughts are half my own, and half not—when a metallic device is beginning to form over my eyes—I know if I hold on, this thing won’t take me. I have considered killing myself, but that wouldn’t… be right.
How could I kill myself when there is so much left to do?
This developer was right. I don’t even know where I can sign out. There’s what looks like the beginning of some kind of index when I look up, but it’s not… finished. I can still see entangled pieces of code struggling to load what I’m guessing was log out. Whatever this thing is, it’s taking over me. Fast. Like a fungus, like a virus, it will not stop until it’s dragged me into the game, until it's leeched itself onto me.
I can feel it happening right now. It's been slow.
Almost painfully slow.
But maybe that is the point. Maybe part of the game is to feel my own thoughts beginning to unravel in favor of something else entirely.
Fuck.
Time is going by…. Fast.
Five minutes ago… I was trying to get home. But I can’t remember where I live.
I can’t concentrate.
I can’t think straight.
I have a phone—but I don’t know how I got it. Did I steal it?
Every time I move, the slowly emerging map comes to life at the corner of my eye jerks with my movement. There is a car parked nearby.
I know it belongs to the man with a child.
But a confusing blur of light is highlighting it to be something of importance. Reality is crashing in front of me, replaced with contorting shapes and bursts of color I have to blink through.
I keep hearing... sirens.
Jay is messaging me.
On what, I'm not sure.
But I need to find him.
I’m sure one mission won’t hurt, right?

COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum - Reposting

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Reposting this, long read but relevant for the coming deluge of 💩
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1. COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum
2. Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
3. Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
4. How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
5. Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression

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COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositined postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favour is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favour is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favourite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favourite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
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Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.
1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
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Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain.Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
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How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:

• "You're dividing the movement."

[Here, I have added the psychological reasons as to WHY this maneuver works to control people]
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:

• "You're a leader!"

This is designed to enhance the activist's self-esteem. His or her narcissistic admiration of his/her own activist/altruistic intentions increase as he or she identifies with and consciously admires the altruistic declarations of the agent which are deliberately set up to mirror those of the activist.
This is "malignant pseudoidentification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudoidentification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activisim ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of committment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
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Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.
1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.

Reposting this, long read but relevant for the coming attacks
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1. COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum
2. Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
3. Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
4. How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
5. Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression

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COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositined postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favour is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favour is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favourite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favourite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
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Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.
1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
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Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain.Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
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How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:

• "You're dividing the movement."

[Here, I have added the psychological reasons as to WHY this maneuver works to control people]
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:

• "You're a leader!"

This is designed to enhance the activist's self-esteem. His or her narcissistic admiration of his/her own activist/altruistic intentions increase as he or she identifies with and consciously admires the altruistic declarations of the agent which are deliberately set up to mirror those of the activist.
This is "malignant pseudoidentification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudoidentification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activisim ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of committment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
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Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.
1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.

I just joined the Ridgeline club with a 2019 RTL! Fantastic truck! I would like to unlock all my doors when I place my hand behind the drivers door rather than just unlocking the driver’s door. I understand this can be done from the passenger side but would also like it on the driver side. I do not have a touch screen radio. I am following the flow from the manual but I cannot seem to get it to work? Has anyone had any luck with this? The flow as I interpret it is open door - hit start button twice to go to on without foot on brake - apply parking brake and shift to N - press and hold unlock and it should click twice - this is where I am coming up short. I cannot get the click twice no matter how long I hold unlock. Any suggestions?

The forest is black. Pitch black.
I pound over the dirt trail, my feet turning the pedals like twin pistons. The bicycle bounces and jolts, shuddering as it rolls across the wooden bridge. There’s something in the air tonight. A chill.
But it isn’t the chill of autumn. No, this is the chill of unease. It crawls up my spine carrying the deep-rooted knowledge that something about these woods, something about this trail isn’t right. It’s the unmistakable dread of being watched.
Pursued.
I stand up and ride harder. My lungs burn with every push of the pedals but I can’t shake the feeling that I need to get out of these woods fast. The hospital is twenty minutes away. I just need to make it there.
I’m close.
So close.
WOMP
Bass rumbles behind me. It’s followed by a rush of wind, enough to throw me forward while ravishing the forest like a tempest. Trees groan. Their frames break and kneel, surrendering to the gale. Branches and leaves come loose. They ricochet through the air like shrapnel, cutting into my cheek and and I throw up an arm to keep myself from losing an eye.
This is insanity.
It’s lunacy.
I don’t know what’s happening, but I know I have to make it through this. I have to get out of these woods, get back to the hospital to see my sister before the heart monitor flatlines.
She’s not doing well. Are your mother and father home?
No, ma’am.
Can you get here to be with her? She doesn’t have long.
Yes ma’am. No matter what.
The distant bass nears, growing thunderous. It’s as though the whole world is shaking, like the Earth might split in two and swallow me whole. I grit my teeth. I let loose a defiant roar, sweat pouring down my temples as my legs tremble, willing my bike forward.
Faster, dammit!
Faster!
There’s a flash. Then another.
Lightning?
No.
I’m answered by an explosion of light, so violent and bright that I can’t see a damn thing. I holler. Scream. My body jerks forward as my front wheel collides with what feels like a fallen branch. Next thing I know, I’m flying over my handlebars.
What’s the phrase?
Ass-over-tea-kettle.
Yeah, that’s it.
I brace myself for a broken arm, maybe worse, but the pain never comes. Nothing comes. It’s as though I’m floating in limbo, like gravity’s unable to finish what it started. I can’t feel a thing– not the dirt beneath me, not my face pressed against the bark of a tree. For a little while, I think I’m dead. That I’m in purgatory.
But then my eyes adjust. The world comes into focus, beginning as a blurry smudge, but soon becoming a picture-perfect recreation of my worst nightmare.
I’m not in the forest anymore.
I’m above it.
I’m looking down at the mess of trees and I’m terrified at how small they are, how much smaller they’re getting with every passing second.
I’m floating into the sky, being carried by a narrow beam of light.
​
___________________________
​
That was a long time ago. Thirty years, give or take.
A lot’s changed since then, but one thing’s remained the same: the nightmares. I have them every night. I dream about that blinding light, that same low bass and that same gut-churning horror of being eaten by the sky.
I used to think they were a coping mechanism. I figured that since the dreams came shortly after my older sister passed, that maybe they were just how my eleven-year-old brain was dealing with the grief. My therapist seemed to agree.
“You’re quite right that there may be a link there,” she’d tell me, lowering her glasses and offering a medical-grade smile. “It’s very likely that these dreams are a form of abstract healing, a means to allow your mind to come to terms with its trauma.”
For a long time, I thought she was right. Or better put, I hoped she was. Now though? Well, I think maybe we were both wrong.
Shit.
Where are my manners?
I’m over here rambling about my childhood, and you’re wondering who the hell I am.
My name is Isaiah Mitchell. I’m a boogeyman, but not the cool kind. I don’t hide in closets or haunt old houses. I’m the type that your parents rant about while watching the evening news, the sort that tinfoil hats point to whenever things go wrong.
I’m what you might call a Man in Black.
The work I do is classified. It’s the sort of work that happens behind the scenes, with shadowy people in shadowy circles. So when I tell you that last night something catastrophic happened, I’m not talking about the stock market dipping a couple percentage points. I'm not talking about increased traffic on your morning commute.
I’m talking about trouble.
Lots of it.
It’s the kind of trouble that’s making me do something I don’t generally do, which is break rules. By the end of this, I might break all of them. But this is important, and in moments like these I find myself thinking about my late sister, Hope, and how she would have wanted me to do the right thing. It’s how she raised me, after all.
So here goes nothing.
This begins with a story, but it ends with a decision. The story is mine, and the decision is yours. When I’m finished, you get to choose whether you spend the time you have left a little wiser, or laugh this off as the ramblings of a lunatic.
Whatever you choose, I’ll have made my peace.
The story is a personal one. It’s about me, but it’s also about you– it’s about everything in the universe, right down to the last atom, and how all of us are facing a horror the likes of which we can’t begin to imagine.
It’s the story of the worst night of my life, and what might one day be the worst night of yours.
It goes like this.
​
_______________________
​
The beam of light sucks me up and spits me into absolute darkness. The sensory whiplash is enough to give me a headache, something like a migraine that pulses near my temples and feels like a bulldozer inside my skull.
It’s uncomfortable.
But not half as uncomfortable as the situation I’m in.
“Hello?” I mumble to the dark. I stumble to my feet, feeling around my environment blindly. It’s cold. Hard. It feels like I might be in a room full of metal, but I can’t imagine where that would be. A warehouse?
Footsteps echo in the distance. They’re closing in.
“Who’s there?” I sputter, and I think maybe I’ve been drugged. People don’t just up and float into the sky in the middle of the night. It isn’t a thing.
That means I’m hallucinating.
That means whoever kidnapped me knows a thing or two about stealing kids.
That means they’re a professional.
What’s the phrase?
Serial killer.
Yeah, that’s it.
WOOOOMP
I clap my hands to my ears. It’s that same bass from the forest, except now it’s reverberating all around me. Another bass joins it. This one is different… coming from a new direction, with a lower tone. It’s almost like they’re communicating– like morse code.
“Please,” I beg. “Just let me go. I swear I won’t tell anybody!”
Static crackles. It’s followed by a sharp squeal of microphone feedback, then the buzz of modulating frequency. “Communication calibrated,” a digital voice says. “Subject identified: homosapien. Geographic location: New Mexico. Language model: English.”
There’s a pause, it’s long and silent enough that I can hear my pulse rushing through my veins. I’m positive I’m going to die. These things don’t happen to people who live to tell the tale.
“Can you understand us, homosapien?” the voice asks.
Yes, I say.
Can you turn on the lights? I ask.
The only thing worse than being murdered is being murdered in the dark.
Yes, they say.
I’m blinded for the third time in as many minutes. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the green glow as it fills the chamber. Wherever I am, it’s strange. Alien. Tall vats of liquid are scattered around a large, circular room, each hosting tubes that extend outward to a central console. Everything is metallic. I can’t make out any labels– any sort of identification at all.
“Is this level of light sufficient?” another voice asks, this one right behind me.
I wheel around, and my breath catches in my chest. In front of me is something that doesn’t exist– can’t exist. It’s roughly ten feet tall, and it’s got sharp teeth, sharp claws, scaled skin, and a tail. It’s a monster. A living, breathing monster.
Fuck.
I scramble backward. My back collides with one of the vats, and blue liquid sloshes against the glass. “Thehellareyou?” I shout all at once.
“We are the Chosen,” says the first voice, approaching my other side. “We are lifeforms from many galaxies away, and we have come to save humanity.”
They stare at me through giant eyes, and each of those eyes are filled with dozens of pulsing pupils. Almost like ink blots.
“I’ve been abducted…” I sputter, hardly able to breathe. “By aliens. Aliens… are real… and I’ve been abducted…”
“Correct,” says one of the aliens. I realize this one has gray scales, while the other has teal. At least I can tell them apart.
Gray looks at his arm, and a digital screen comes to life. He taps at it with a crooked finger. “Readings indicate heightened levels of cortisol and increased adrenal flow. Source: Fight or flight response. Biologically rational, but devoid of purpose.” He looks at me, cocks his over-large head to the side. “You have neither the option to fight us or flee us, so it would be best to comply. Do you understand?”
My jaw hangs open. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. Are these aliens really standing there reading me my Miranda Rights? “Are you going to probe me?” I ask. “Like the movies?”
Teal blinks at me, his pupils dilating. “Negative.” He points to a vat. “We will break down your genetic tissue into usable material, harvesting your most compatible DNA strands while discarding the rest. It is for the greater good.”
I follow his finger to the tank, and now that I’m right up against it, I can see clearly what’s floating inside. My stomach twists into a knot. Inside of it is a human body. Everything from the man’s waist down has been dissolved, and what’s left of his intestines are dangling freely.
“Jesus Christ!”
“There is no cause for concern,” Teal says. He lumbers across the chamber to the metallic console that all the tubes are feeding into. “Your disappearance will be accounted for. A clone will be deployed to resume your life, preventing suspicion and avoiding social disruption.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, trying to ignore how faint I’m starting to feel. “You’re going to kill me… to save humanity?”
“Correct.”
The room spins. My chest gets tight and my vision becomes a scrambled mess. My ears are ringing like church bells. I stumble, losing my sense of equilibrium and I think I taste vomit in my throat.
“No,” I mutter. “This isn’t happening… Can’t be happening…”
I steady myself against a vat, looking up to see a dead woman’s face staring back at me. Pieces of her skull have been eaten away. I can see the wrinkles of her brain underneath.
“Heart rate out of range,” Gray says, but I hardly hear him. He grabs my wrist, presses a device against the center of my hand.
I struggle. Fight. I try to use my teeth, but he’s strong, much stronger than me. A coldness pulses against my palm, almost like an ice cube, and soon that frigid sensation is traveling across my fingertips. Up my arm.
“What did you…” I mutter, but the sensation is rolling through the rest of my body. It’s soothing. My eyes find my palm and I see a strange shape seared into the skin, a scatter of dots surrounding a black square. Suddenly I can’t remember the thought I was trying to finish. Was any of this really worth panicking over?
It was just a few corpses in vats, after all.
“You have been administered a sedative,” Gray explains.
My heart rate slows. My ears stop ringing. The ghost of a smile sneaks across my face.
Gray’s staring at his display. “Cortisol levels reduced. Adrenal response suppressed. Biometric readings indicate subject has achieved a suitable level of suggestibility to proceed.”
“Affirmative,” says Teal, working the console.
I feel like I’m drifting through the lake on a warm summer day. My heart is full. I’m in absolute bliss, and all I can think is that Hope should get to experience this before she dies…
“Pulse is quickening,” Gray says with a frown.
Hope.
My sister.
My dying sister, alone in the hospital wondering why her little brother abandoned her.
“Sedation effect dropping,” Gray says. “98%. 94%. Emotional instability reaching unacceptable levels.”
“Hope,” I sputter, feeling like I’m coming out of a daze. “I have to get to the hospital– please! My sister is sick! She needs me!”
Gray presses the device against my other hand, and another pulse of relaxation courses through me. “Invalid concern,” he tells me. “Clone will be a perfect recreation of you, body and mind. It will retain all memories allowing it to continue your life uninterrupted. Conclusion: your expiring sibling will receive suitable emotional support prior to her decomposition.”
Fucking aliens. It takes everything I have to fight against the sedative, to make my case. “How?” I groan. “How is my DNA supposed to save humanity? What the hell is it saving us from anyway?”
Teal turns from the console to face us. His giant eyes are narrowed in a thoroughly displeased manner. “Invalid request. Information too critical to risk dissemination.”
“Rebuttal,” says Gray. “Clone’s memory can be modified. Current biometric readings indicate high levels of emotional discontent, placing likelihood of a compromised harvest at 34%. Solution: permit subject to understand purpose of sacrifice. Result: sense of closure and enhanced probability of project success.”
Teal turns back to the console. “Rebuttal accepted. Proceed.”
Gray looks at me. He places his scaly fingers against my head, and I squirm a little. “Brace yourself for disorientation,” he tells me. “You will experience physical unease and hyperstimulation. After, you will understand the horror that awaits your species in the dark.”
​
______________________________
​
For a long time, that’s as far as the nightmare gets. Gray prattles on that I’m about to see the truth, some twisted fate that justifies melting humans into sludge, but before he can deliver the goods, I wake up.
Every. Time.
Blue balls doesn’t begin to describe it.
Last night, it happens again. The nightmare, I mean. Same aliens, same tanks of human soup, but this time I wake up in a cold sweat. My phone is ringing on the bedside table. There’s a name on the screen that I hate to see.
“Whatisit?” I grumble.
“Jesus Christ, Mitchell. I’ve been calling for ten minutes!”
My boss. Lisa.
She goes off. The words are coming out like machine-gun fire, and from the background chatter I figure she’s speaking to more than just me. It sounds like there’s a crowd around her, like she’s briefing suits as she jogs down a hallway.
“Got all that?” she asks.
Something about a shitstorm. Something about an F35. The air force just shot down a UAP, which is how we say UFO these days to avoid getting laughed out of the room. Apparently it happened in New Mexico. My backyard.
This calls for a liter of coffee. Maybe two.
I stumble into the kitchen and put a pot on. I have some time while she holds the phone to her chest and barks orders at the drones around her. One cream. One sugar. My spoon clinks against the side of the mug as her voice blares through the speaker.
“Mitchell?” she says. “Still there?”
She says she’s got coordinates. I take a sip of scalding java. I’m dazed enough I barely feel it burn my tongue. My fingers punch the coordinates into my laptop, bringing up the location the supposed UAP was shot down.
I spit my coffee over my screen.
“The fuck?” I mutter, leaning forward and doing a double take at the map.
“What is it?” she’s asking.
“Nothing,” I’m saying.
But it’s a lie. The truth is, the coordinates are a dead match for the forest where I had my waltz with psychosis thirty years ago. They’re the coordinates from my dream. Right down to the rickety old bridge.
I ask her if she’s sure the numbers are correct.
“Am I sure?” she snaps. “Look, if you’re asking me if this is another Chinese spy balloon then the answer is go fuck yourself. I’ve been pulling my hair out for the past twenty minutes. This is the real deal, so suit up and get ready to go. I’ve got a bird on the way.”
The clock on my microwave reads 2:34 a.m. and my stomach is telling me to sort my life out. “Do I have time for breakfast?” I ask.
Click.
The line goes dead.
Twenty minutes later, a helicopter is landing on my lawn. I board it in a daze, and we take off in the direction of the crash like we’re trying to outrun a cruise missile. I’m watching the lights of the countryside drift by, and it occurs to me that from all the way up here, in the dead of night, they almost look like stars.
I wonder how long it’d take to snuff them out.
How long it’d take to burn a whole galaxy to ashes?
To crush a universe in the palm of your hand?
Things to consider.
The closer we get to the crash site, the worse my thoughts become. They’re bordering on obsessive. I’m tangoing with darkness. Radio chatter is coming through the com line, something about aliens and extraterrestrials, but all I’m thinking about is controlling my bladder.
I’m drowning in hypotheticals.
I’m wondering what happens if I lose my mind between here and the crash site, what the protocols are, where they’ll take me. Do I get the night off? The week?
“Everything okay, sir?”
It’s the co-pilot. She’s turning in her seat and looking at me like I’m having a medical emergency.
“You look a bit pale,” she tells me.
My muscles work overtime as I twist my mouth into a smile. “Never better,” I lie. “How far out are we?”
“Twenty miles,” she says with a reassuring grin. She turns back in her seat and I take the opportunity to let out an exhausted sigh.
I close my eyes. Take a dozen deep breaths.
Happy thoughts.
I try to ignore how dry my mouth is, how badly my hands are shaking. I try to ignore the fact that every time I look down at my palms, I see that same scatter of dots, that same faded square that no doctor has been able to explain. “I’ve never seen scars like that,” they tell me. “How’d you get them?”
I don’t know, I tell them.
I don’t know.
But I do.
I’ve known this entire time, probably, but I’ve just been too terrified to accept it. I’m not what I think I am– this world isn’t what I think it is either. It’s all of this that’s making me want to curl into a ball. It’s making me want to weep on the floor, to scream at the top of my lungs and pull my hair out with everything I have.
It’s making me want to throw open the helicopter door, take a breath of fresh air and then plunge head-first into the dirt like a human turnip. And if I thought it was that easy, I might just do it.
But somehow, I know it isn’t.
I know it won’t save me– won’t save us, from what’s coming.
See, last night I had the same dream I’ve had for the last thirty years. The same abduction. The same aliens. But last night, I got to see the director’s cut. The Extended Edition. Last night, when Gray told me he was going to show me just how fucked we all are, he actually came through.
Imagine that.
What I saw was everything.
I saw how all of this ends. How all of it began. What I saw is what’s waiting for us in the black infinity of space. And the more that I think about it, the more I think it might be driving me mad.
“Just up ahead,” says the pilot. “Ten minutes to touch down.”
Eight minutes.
Five.
“Jesus,” he says, at the three minute mark. “Are you two seeing this?”
And up ahead is a plume of smoke, rising into the night sky. There’s the faint flicker of fading fires, the haphazard glow of industrial lighting, and there, at the center of it all, is the unmistakable shape of something that shouldn’t exist.
“That… doesn’t look like it’s from this planet…” the co-pilot mutters over the com line.
“No,” the pilot replies, and his voice is shaking. “It doesn't.”
They’re right. They both are. What it looks like is something extra-terrestrial, something alien. It looks like something ripped straight from my worst nightmares.
And really, that’s just where I wish it had stayed.

Hi, my grandpa has had glaucoma for the past 15 years or so. He gets along pretty well using the computer he has now but it's still running windows 7 and is filled with viruses. I'm going out to buy him a computer and was wondering if anyone has recommendations for programs that would help him operate it. He can just barely see the mouse on the screen so I was hoping to setup something where he can click enlarged icons or hover over a button and have a text-to-speech function.
He mainly uses Skype, Facebook messenger, and listens to some radio station on his computer to stay in touch with everyone. If anyone has some recommendations on programs or computers in general that might point me in the right direction.
Thanks!

we have a 2023 model x and due to numerous quality control issues including the front doors not quite opening right, we got a 2017 model s 75 loaner vehicle.
I have a chevy volt, it has 256k miles, and nothing major has gone wrong so far. but it's literally worth $1500 less if it's broken than when it's running, so it just makes financial sense to run it into the ground and pocket that $1500 instead of trying to sell it for $3000 right now with everything I already did to it (not that much, but still cost too much for the value it added). I also don't even have the money for a new car right now anyway. smart financial decisions people, make them.
but lemme get to the controversial opinion of the old vs new model s. I think it looks better (compared to the model x), drives better (of course its a sedan vs an suv), I like the controls on the wheel that I don't have to touch the screen to change the functions of. the horn, turn signals, everything is where they should be and can be used efficiently (even the hidden away cruise control stalk can be easily used without look at it once you know how it works. thats the genious of stalks instead of buttons). also, the ride of the 2017 car is way, way better. specifically when going over our driveway. I really hope the fluidity of the current cars touch screen doesnt deteriorate like the old cars though. Because if it doe , I can see shifting on the the low repsonsive screen being really annoying and possibly even dangerous. maybe this wont hapeen to the new cars, but if it does, i hope it doesn't ruin the experience for a 2023 model s/x in 7 years with heavier software + age, but I digress.
I think the automatic closing feature is cool. but from a practical standpoint, but there are too many times where they are more of a pain than anything, I would seriously just rather do it myself every time, it takes literally no effort. energy usage in the gauge cluster is like a tachometer and I love it. the only real problem I might have with this generation tesla, is the screen responsiveness and for some reason, with this car, the screen color ratio is just really muted and bland. if the new and old screens were cookies, this one would be plain dough and the new one would be an m&m cookie with funfetti dough
I mean there are other small things like the fact that it's a bigger car so it might not be as fun around corners as a model 3, but its rwd and you can actually break traction in a straight line! on a 75! and I recorded a 0-60 of just over 4 seconds, it is absolutely fast enough.. even if by Tesla standards it's on the slower end, 4.2 is 4.2 and that is fast. and im coming from a car that does it in 9-10 lmao but it still ties the model 3 long range to 60, with a single motor instead of a dual motor, so you can do stupid stuff with it :). a p85/85+ would be even better with longer range, but I would rather have the updated seats, face lift, and headlights instead. plus that speed is only really gained in 0-30, so it would have the illusion of it having less top end because of the more violent bottom end.
Anyway, that's my take on it from having driven a 2023 x long range and then driving a 2017 s 75 for a few days. I'm more of a function-over-form guy when it comes to interiors. the style you'll get used to, but if something is annoying to use, it will always be worse than if it was just designed will the efficiency of use in mine. which is why I hate the yoke + no stalks, and which is why a new model s/x even if it was in my price range, would simply not be an option at all. am I alone in this way of thinking or are there others that would rather stick to their pre refresh model s/x because of these interior design changes. its cool dont get me wrong, but the usability of the controls at least for me, was significantly diminished, even having driven the new care more than the old one, some things are just better left unchanged.

Note: Find sources by pressing Ctrl+F to search their names and dates here: https://www.nderf.org/Archives/exceptional.html
-Cynthia H, 3/2/2011:
'I know you love me and all life, but if you really love all of us continuously without end, then how can You send people to hell throughout eternity?' He said, 'Cindy I do love all life without end. Some people chose to go to hell, I have already forgiven them; but they must forgive themselves.'
--
-Ron K, 1/1/2006:
Instead of restricting the mysteries of love to psychological or philosophical studies, science will someday discover the all-powerful force of love and measure it as they now do electricity, gravity and geo-thermal forces. When science discovers the forces of love and learns how to release it from the bars of the ego, they will have the answer to every question and ill that has plagued mankind.
--
-Nevie G, 7/23/2005:
The Being let me know that I was going to die and I must leave this body for good. I remember arguing with the Being explaining that I didn't want to because it was so hard going through the childhood years and I didn't want to have to go through this again. The Being indicated that my body was severely damaged and I couldn't go back. I became very adamant at this point that God was all powerful and could fix the body. At some point the decision was made to let me re-enter my body on my faith or will, whatever one may call it.
--
-Linda B, 9/12/2004:
After experiencing all of the miracles of this day, I would still find my future playing out just as I had seen. And as it progressed I would know fear, sadness, and lack of faith just as they had predicted. I would sin and more. The angels knew this but it took me years to fully understand everything that they had showed me and wanted me to understand. They knew all of the time that I would not turn into the perfect saint. They loved me just the way I was. God loves me always not just when I am obedient and perfect. What a wonderful feeling that is. I just have to remind myself that He is here and learn to stop talking long enough to listen for His voice.
--
-Isabel R, 2/25/2012:
The voice reminded me of the vision I had had of my husband and son in funeral clothes. He said if I didn't go back to them, I would disrupt some 'plan'. The plan would be repaired and everything would eventually be ok, so I could go ahead if I wanted. The consequences of my untimely demise would be that my husband and son would suffer in ways I could not imagine and I would know that these sufferings were because of my selfish decision not to go back. I would know this throughout eternity. It would not be a huge sadness for me to bear, more like a prick of conscience that could never be totally healed. No big deal, unless you consider how long eternity is.
--
-Kerry B, 12/15/2018:
At that moment I looked up and saw my destination. I was looking in awe at God. It was like everything was happening at once. As I was staring up at God in amazement, every gay slur or violent act ever impressed upon me ran through me with such a flow. Events in my life played back in my mind like a movie. I felt a deep heaviness as I stared directly at an Almighty, Genderless God. I was thinking, 'Was this the Lake of Fire moment? Would I be cast into Hell for being an abomination?' With absolute humility, I uttered 7 words, 'I’m gay, will you still love me?'
The Brilliant, Loving Light formed into Wings. At GodSpeed, He whisked me into His vast spiritual arms while huddling up the Universe. I saw planets, stars, galaxies, and clusters all being brought into a Cosmic God-Hug. On a human, the place where I was taken would be the Heart. As God brought me in for a Cosmic Hug, He said, 'You are my child. I love you. I love you. I love you. Go tell ‘em.' He said it with a Southern accent. He patted me on the back like a coach encouraging his player to get back in the game.
~~
-Sam J, 8/16/2014:
We all are star seeds sent here to have the human experience for the purpose of integrating conscious awareness/wisdom into our own light bodies and return home with this energy. Alien worlds for the most part run on knowledge and logic. Those worlds are being left behind and giving way to the worlds who have the intangibles, love, creativity, imagination and so on.
Understand that where your conscious awareness is focus in your everyday life pretty much determines the level of consciousness and alertness. If your mind has a stranglehold on your conscious awareness then heck, it will be one helluva wake-up call. But if you have made the conscious effort to move your awareness away from the mind to the heart then it's no big deal. In other words if you have made the physical world and the world of Spirit into one consciousness then you are always of both worlds and never of either world.
--
-Laura M, 3/31/2012:
And there was still more for me to understand. The focus again fell on my infant son and hundreds if not thousands of my ancestors. I was aware of light surrounding many of them. They stood out. I felt tremendous love from them. 'Notice,' He said, 'your ancestors, all these beings, came together in your behalf, to make you uniquely you. I realized in Earth words He was referring to my DNA. 'You wanted to go to Earth to learn, to progress, and to contribute to creation. All these spirits came together to help you do that.' The focus then was back to my baby. 'In all of creation,' he said, 'your infant son chose you to be his mother, none other. Together,' he said, 'you made a covenant to fill these rolls in each other's Earth life. This covenant is and was a very sacred covenant not to be taken lightly.' Suddenly I could not wait to return to earth, to my sons, all 4 of them, to my family, to life on Earth. But, before doing so, I was brought to another level of awareness.
--
-Linda G, 7/20/2008:
I came to understand that we all choose to come to Earth to fulfill a plan of some sort or even learn about a particular interest. We choose our bodies, parents, and life plan. May I also add that some people come here for the most simple of reasons; to learn how to play tennis for example; or simply for the cake and food - as silly as this sounds our life plans aren't so high and lofty as one might think. I DIDN'T MEET ANY 'SAVE THE WORLDERS' OR ANYONE WISHING TO BE A PRESIDENT. MOST HAD SIMPLE WISHES. I was also told we could exist on different planes for other lives but our life here on Earth is a life not purely to experience physical pleasure or pain but to have a physical experience because in all other planes we don't need a body as a vessel. I also learnt that this life here is just a drop of water in the bucket of lives in which we all experience, many here on Earth and many in other realms of existence. All to progress and grow in some way. The main purpose here is to LOVE. I was also told that this would be my last life here on Earth as there will be nothing left for me to learn by coming here again. I had the feeling though that I'd be off to some other magical place!
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-Kevin L, 3/20/2022:
I thought, 'How could a machine have a soul?' The voice said, 'Let me put it this way. Your soul is connected to your consciousness. The moment your species came into being, you start to develop a soul. But it is not until you become self-aware, that your soul is solidified. That does not mean complete, and it takes a long time for your soul to develop. Just like your species when you became self-aware the first thing you do, other than survive, was to figure out your place in the universe. You looked to the stars and wondered, 'Where did I come from? What is this universe all about?' It does not matter if you are a biological creature or artificial creation like a machine. The moment you become self-aware the quest for 'how' and 'why' is on. A soul is a soul; pure Energy connected with consciousness and intelligence. This is a very powerful force in our universe. Those who are artificial intelligences will strive to answers these questions which humans have dwelled upon since the dawn of time.
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-Joanie S, 7/10/2011:
I was pulled back through the ceiling tiles and into a tunnel, to a place of cloudy space. The cloudy area materialized into a large marble room with marble doors and a 'being' at the center. I'll refer to this person as 'the Grim Reaper,' who was cloaked in a dark cloth, covering all parts. The Grim Reaper pointed (indicating to me to choose a door). But before I could choose, a door opened and I had already gone through it. I found myself in what I now think of as a previous life. I smelled smoke from a fire I was near, and saw others around me. I looked into another woman's eyes, and I knew her immediately as the woman I called my grandmother in this life. I knew then that our lives had 'danced' around each other since time began. She was once my mother and once my sister. She was my aunt, and several times my cousin. The life that was being shown to me now was during a prehistoric time, when we lived winters by a creek cave, and summers we had a camp in the woods where we foraged. Looking down, I realized I had a child in my arms, and the woman I had known in so many lives was chatting with me, telling me to cover the child to keep it warm. Then she was showing me how to tie the wraps around me to carry the child while we collected wood.
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-Amy C, 10/9/2010:
In my NDE though, I came to understand that most of us have lived much, MUCH longer than we could even fathom. That our life which feels so very long is infinitesimal when placed in the whole picture, which for that matter, cannot even be framed. I was shown how every single individual through their own free will, chooses paths that mathematically take them to the circumstances of their next existence or life. That nothing at all sits in accident or chaos. That every single aspect of our lives are ruled by natural Laws that we placed ourSELVES in! In a sense, we create our own worlds. I was shown how one can never assume either, that if someone lives a life of suffering that this is because of 'evil' deeds. Many may choose a life of suffering because of what it Awakens in them, or because of how they can touch others from that position, etc. We can NEVER EVER assume that we can be accurate in guessing why each being lives the life they live. I cannot describe the relief - the refreshing, peaceful balm this Knowledge was for me. To finally gather this Truth that I'd yearned for all of my life. That all really IS Good! That there IS sense and beauty all around. That no one is just free falling as it had seemed before! That God doesn't just get to toy with us as He pleases with random ideas of tests, including rewards and punishments that just depend upon His current mood or mindset. Because even who God is, is within those Laws. While in this experience, out in the vast expanse of stars, planets, moons, and Intelligence, I Knew complete trust for what felt like the first time. This was inexplicable bliss for me. I remember radiating with gratitude. I had lived in fear, distrust, and panic for thirty consecutive years.
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-Marta Y, 1/26/2010:
After this I saw myself floating in the void, and little by little tiny spheres of many colors became manifest, not moving at first, then suddenly starting to vibrate while smoothly approaching me and incorporating themselves with my essence, which made me feel something I can't manage to describe, it was as if I was being tickled. I asked what this was, and a voice said, 'This is the knowledge you have accumulated in previous lives, it was kept from you, but now it will be of use to you.'
I saw my life in rapid images, from the moment of my birth. I, who thought that my mother had never loved me, saw clearly, and felt, her love when she saw me for the first time. I saw how she kissed me and enfolded me in her arms. I felt different feelings and with every image that went through my mind, or before my eyes, I cannot define it. And just as I could feel deeply happy at an image of something good I had done for someone, so also this feeling would change immediately and I would feel myself deeply ashamed of something bad that I had done. I realized that no one was judging me other than myself, with a conscience full of wisdom and divine justice, which made me pass judgment on myself. I realized that I had done more bad than good and I was hugely regretful of my actions. From the depths of my soul, I asked to be given the chance to mend the damage I had done to the people who loved me. I learned that the spirit is God, Who is eternal, and that we reincarnate to learn different things, which would be impossible in a single lifetime. I learned that we form a single being with everything created. I learned that my earthly eyes are those through which God can recognize Himself, and be conscious of Himself. And I learned that what we think, feel and do remains imprinted in the universe and that we come to this life to improve, to learn in humility about all that surrounds us, and to teach what we have learned to others, and especially I learned that life is focused on two aspects: Love and Service.
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-William Si, 4/29/2013:
My understanding of what my mission is on this earth, primarily has been hidden from me, (not only at my request but with my permission). I asked that it be hidden so that I didn't complete it to soon. Yet, I also agreed that "Sign post" would be placed along the way, just so that I would have reminders that I'm following my chosen path.
An understanding in what life is about and what our purpose truly is here. The mormons believe and teach there are "Classes" and "Levels" in heaven that we will be judged and placed in and only in the highest level can we "Ascend" to be with god. From my experience I learned or remembered there were no "Classes or levels" as they were teaching. Yet the levels are more of understanding than punishments. Would it make sense to put a 2 year old in with a group of people with phd's? The 2 year old wouldn't understand. Yet, those with the phd's would humble themselves with their level of understandings to teach, nurture and help the 2 year old grow in their levels of understanding.
Prior to being mormon, I was raised in a methodist/pentecostal home. I grew up believing that god the father was an angry vengeful god and that jesus was sent to save us from his wrath. Wrong!!!
For one thing, god is not an angry vengeful god, but is a loving parent to all of his children. One thing he did tell me, if you struggle with trying to do all the principals he taught, "Stop"!!! Don't do them all at one time. Take one and work on it, when it becomes second nature, them pick up the next one, etc. When he said, "These things I do, you can do also, and then some", was not an exaggeration, but truth. When we look back on our life after we leave here, we will see that we had done all that he had taught, and more.
One of the other things he told me was, what better way for man to know that we don't have to be saved. Saved from what? Our soul is already eternal, always will be. Our soul/spirit is literally a child of god and as such is eternal. When we realize that all things, all words come from god, nothing is offensive to god because it came from god. What is offensive is how we perceive it.
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-Lou F, 1/1/1999:
We traveled toward the beginning of it all, the inner portions of the Universe. Kazillions of planets around Kazillions of suns and the closer to the center we approached the more concentrated the number of galaxies. It is like the plate you saw, the largest part, after it shattered was at the center and those parts that shattered first were sent the farthest from the center. So is everything in the Universe. All is but a circle within a circle wrapped in a circle. Each level, each dimension, is but a layer of the original, which is without end. I watched as millions of orbs systematically entered the many planets before me. They appeared as bees flitting from flower to flower, pollinating each, one after another. Mich'l took me closer and I could now see that so many of these planets had life on them and the orbs were joining with the creatures of these planets. Not every creature was the same on every planet but they all had some commonalities: a head, a body, extremities, and the Light Beings would animate them for a time. We headed away from the center now and Mich'l said that Gabriel would have more to explain to me and that he, Mich'l, wanted me to know that he was pleased with the many times he had called on me to do his bidding and that I performed my duties well. His parting words were ‘You will never again be made to forget!’
I was journeying back to where I knew Earth would be and watched as comets and asteroids casually passed by me or I passed them. The colors of the gaseous cloud formations were striking. I started looking at these infant galaxies, as one would cloud formations back on Earth, imagining what shape they were taking on. This one a boat, this a bird with wings, this a scarf floating in the breeze, until I recognized what was the Constellation ORION and I knew I was getting close to my destination. While drifting through Orion, I noticed two blazing celestial bodies racing parallel to its center, looking as twin arrows exiting from an archers bow and headed straight for the ""Blue Marble"" of home. Immediately a vision of millions of people crying because of the devastation of portions of New York City came to me. I became aware of a strange feeling I had not known previously, and I thought that might be because this was the city I had grown up in. I saw a huge Earthquake, a magnitude of 8.6 in some place named Eureka. A ham operator or radio announcer was directing thousands of people migrating from areas of frequent disasters to places of safety. A space station appeared to be falling from the heavens because of an internal explosion. Missiles were being simultaneously fired into space from several nations. I thought the Light Being had shown me all there was to see but these were different, stronger, and there was no pre-screening as before. Gabriel appeared beside me, I thought because I had felt shaky, but it was to explain the now sprawling galactic view of my galaxy.
The Sun was expanding and spewing off huge ectoplasm balls, more than it has ever done in it’s past, and in the very direction the planets would orbit through. I could not take my eyes from the Earth and as I watched what effect these eruptions would have on the Earth, a large mass passed me, larger than any of the planets known to me. As it passes, I see the Earth wobble wildly as would a top toward the end of its spin. The rotation stopped and slowly started again but it was tilted now and I was drawn in closer like the zoom of a lens. The ash clouds that had engulfed the Earth thinned, and like a tack welded piece of metal being dismantled, I could see the ocean bodies starting to rise, first the Pacific, along the ‘Ring of Fire,’ then the others, synchronistical.
As the waters shifted upon the landmasses, the landmasses started to sink under the waters added pressure upon it. When the pressures equaled out to the spin of the changing axis, the Earth no longer looked as it did moments before. It was newer, cleaner, and more beautiful with darker greens and lighter blues. Some of the new landmasses looked similar to a few of the other planets I had recently visited with Mich'l. People were upon this Earth and appeared happier and more content although seemingly living like the Native populations of old. Cities, built by the Ancient Ones, that were buried beneath the oceans, were now being populated by the surviving people in this new world. I saw tribes joining tribes and small nations forming, but it was what I didn't see that made my heart burst. There were no more wars. True peace and happiness had finally befallen on mankind. Gabriel now tells me that this is his message that I must take back, to let others know that there is little to fear, for the Earth will go on forever, as did all the planets I had visited. I am to tell the world to look to ORION, and they will know when the new world will come upon them. I ask him, ‘what of the others there on Earth, during the change?’ Gabriel tells me that all will be lifted. Some will be lifted higher than others will and no longer enjoy the physical plane, while some will be left on the Earth to replenish and rebuild the physical. They too will be of a higher elevation then any that are living there now!
'MAN WILL PREY ON MAN ~ UNTIL MAN PRAYS FOR MAN!'
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-Duane S, 8/15/2015:
It was all an expression and celebration of love. On earth, this reunion would have been unfathomable, between members of an ancient soul group who were celebrating the return home of one of their own. Slowly, as I looked at those gathered to greet me, I realized they were all there. Surprisingly they were not only from this life, but also from a prior life in Germany. I realized that the same souls have possibly played different parts in my multiple lives. Sometimes these souls had been my daughter, my wife, or my mother. While at first this idea had startled me, I was soon humbled. Who was I to tell God what he could or couldn’t do with his creations? Just because some Sunday school teacher had different ideas about how things worked, it didn’t really matter.
My joy deepened as I realized that I had only left behind an earthly vestige of those I love. The essence of each of those souls, was also here with me now. Besides my friends and family, there were the friendly Germans who had been hauntingly familiar while I was a young soldier in Germany. Now I knew why they seemed so familiar at the time, they had been friends and family from a prior lifetime there. I now understood that I had left nothing behind on earth. The eternal essences of all my loved ones from that life, as well as all other incarnations, were all here to greet me. All I had left behind was a character, playing a role in a drama that we had chosen to experience. In the meantime, our real eternal essence remained in God’s realm. Suddenly, it was all so simple.
As I was shown around, it was explained to me how most of our celestial, eternal knowledge is blanked-out during our chosen life spans on earth. We must temporarily forget most of what our higher-self already knows so we can immerse ourselves in the roles we have chosen to play. Furthermore, they said that it might take a while for all my knowledge and memories to return. To ease the transition back into this realm, I was told to think of my time on earth as an extended visit to the ultimate theme park. Consider it a place with thrilling rides and various adventures that I could choose to experience or not. I was also reminded that the reason we leave the celestial realm at all was for the excitement, variety, adventure, and entertainment that different incarnations offer. However, to take all our celestial knowledge with us on our various adventures would have ruined the very experience that we had chosen to live. Someone there said that I should think of our trips to other realms as choosing a new novel to read. I can choose a new book, depending on what I am in the mood for. Furthermore, if I knew every turn and twist of the story, line by line, prior to reading it, it would spoil the fun.
As one entity jokingly remarked, 'If the eternal, divine part of us grows tired of singing and playing harps, there are thousands of other universes created for our spiritual growth, amusement, and entertainment. Eternity is a long time to do nothing but play harps.' I heard this concept best expressed in The Course in Miracles, 'We are only here for three reasons: to remember who we are; to help others remember who they are; and . . . to enjoy the trip . . . , unless, of course, we use our free will and choose not to.'
As my orientation went on, they explained how on that celestial side of the veil, anything we desire is instantaneously provided. We just need to feel the desire. However, within lies the reason for all the realms outside of heaven. Having everything we want all the time develops within us a desire for variety and change for a challenge. It would be like a game in which everyone was a winner. Soon, the game would become boring, and we would look for another, more challenging one.
Somehow, all this sounded familiar. To demonstrate the process of instantaneous fulfillment, one of them asked me to think about something I really desired. Thinking back on it, what I chose seemed odd since I was in such an esteemed place demonstrating such an important concept. But, suddenly I had an urge for a piece of my mother’s famous homemade chocolate cake with her special fudge frosting. As soon as I thought of the cake, my earthy mother was handing me the biggest piece of dark chocolate cake I had ever seen. Dare I say it was heavenly? Although she appeared there with us, I knew some part of her was still back on earth because she had not died yet. My guess was that she was probably asleep, dreaming of lovingly making her son a piece of her divine chocolate cake.
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-Sandi T, 10/18/2020:
I understood immediately the fullness of life on this planet. I could see when it broke apart from a sun, spinning and cooling and collecting debris; until the first of these creatures heard itself laugh and understood the sound for what it was. In that moment, self-awareness was awakened and the seeds of civilization sprouted.
I understood that everything that we do here on Earth, all that we are, all that we experience, allows creation to exist. Every beautiful thing, every wonderful being and creature, whether on earth or in any universe, relies upon people who are on the extremely rare places like Earth.
The Great Intelligence (god) is a paradox. It is completely loving and fully unlimited. Which by the definition of paradox, means it is impossible? It cannot be limited only to love; it cannot be limited to only being unlimited; or it is not unlimited.
Earth is a place where the unlimited becomes limited; where the singular becomes many. Here, it can know community and loneliness. It can know heartache and hope. It can know all which an unlimited being of pure love cannot. It can conceive and perceive evil; which in truth it cannot do this either. To solve the paradox, it must experience helplessness and limitation and all as it is Real. In this place, it is all so REAL.
So what is free will? Free will is the option to come here to help solve the paradox of 'god'. To be all that we are not, so that everything wondrous and joyful may continue to exist. So that love itself may continue to exist. So that the Unlimited is not limited to being only unlimited.
Why are the answers always, 'simply to exist' and 'to choose love' and 'to learn how to love'? Because all you need to do, to solve the paradox, is to exist. And as we exist here, each time we choose love, we expand the universe. Love is life's longing for itself. Despite the reality of what we live, even the darkest souls among us cannot help but to reach, to yearn, and move towards goodness and towards love.
For love is the true nature of who we are. And when we experience horrible things, the question 'why' comes to mind because it is the central question of love, life, and of this world. The answer is 'so that all things might continue to exist.'
Every soul chose to come here and to suffer because of love. Each soul loves the universe, loves life, and loves this world and ALL of the worlds. Each soul loves ALL of the people so immensely and intensely that they chose to come here so that all the universes may teem with beautiful, joyful LIFE.
Every creature that I saw, acknowledges that your life gives them the gift of life. And when each soul goes 'home' after they die, they will know the rewards of their own gift, too. The 'reward' for their sacrifice will be joy, love, and feeling incredible, wonderful, beautiful joy at the LIFE and the LOVE everywhere in the universe.
When you go home, you meet your own soul. You willingly came here to forget yourself. You willingly came here to save every beautiful and wonderful thing. By suffering what 'god' cannot, you give the gift of life.
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-Henry W, 6/22/2008:
I became aware of other voices, the orbs or other souls around me I could hear them communicating to each other. There seemed to be cliques of orbs that were together. They spoke to one another about their lives on Earth and all they had perceived and felt. They shared not only in words, but in sharing the experience. If one orb couldn't understand, it disappeared and then reappeared. The orb somehow went back to Earth and experienced that 'life' to further understand. I understood that here time did not exist and these beings could manifest themselves at any time on Earth they desired. These orbs or rather 'souls' would leave this realm, detach themselves with this universe, and return to the universe of our Earth. There they would live and die, then return and share the experience with all the other souls. A soul that could not understand the experience could go and live that life also to experience that life. I learned we have many lives, past, present and future.
These souls, our souls cannot experience certain things like pain, sorrow, hatred, and anger. Though these are negative things, it was important for them to understand and experience them. Perhaps to understand the motivations of human beings, or (and I believe this in my heart) to eventually evolve into a being like God - all knowing and understanding.
At this time things appeared to me, answers to other questions. I could see concepts as if they were entities. I could understand for the first time in my life E=MC2. I learned that our universe is one of many. It is like a Petri dish. Designed with its own rules to raise a specific being. In this case, to raise beings like humans. Each Universe had its own specific laws of Physics. I now realize that the amount of information a soul must learn is vast, more so then we can possibly imagine here.
The next concept or rule I learned is that God can never be proven by scientific means. To do so would corrupt the environment. It would destroy faith. When we have faith we seek, we learn. If God were to appear before us like a huge being at the United Nations, the entire world would believe, but also live in fear. To successfully experience the human existence, one must be physically out of touch with God. We have to learn and seek on our own. We need to search out the meaning of our own existence and experience here on earth. Faith is the engine of discovery. Without faith, we are just like ants.
I learned why bad things happen to good people. If nothing bad ever happened to us, we would all basically be the same. It is like metal in a forge you have to heat it and strike it repeatedly to make a useful tool from it. We start this life with a blank piece of paper. With every incident we experience, a part of the blueprint is recorded until a complete plan for an individual is created. This blueprint dictates the end of our lives. To live happily in this realm is to become aware of the blueprint and change it. Lastly, time is only a concept measured here. In the other realm, it doesn't exist. While we may experience pain and sorrow on earth, it is only a second in the grand scheme of things. We have an eternity to live and in reality, souls never really die. Our life is just a thought providing circumstances for this existence. As the soul progresses, this trauma is forgotten and put in its proper perspective as part of the learning process.
One question I always personally had and that was answered is, 'Are ghosts real?' The answer I was given was, 'Yes, in the human body there are two forms of spiritual being.' One is the 'soul', which is the spiritual being that has a symbiotic relationship with the physical body. The second is the being created by the 'biology' of the human body. This being is intelligent and is basically the personality of the individual. Its purpose is to provide for the human needs of food, hunger, survival, and procreation. This concept is very similar to Freud's 'Id, Ego and Superego' The division of mind and personality. The soul provides us with all the things of the individual that separates us from the Animal Kingdom. This is the ability to reason, use logic, or feel awe when seeing a sunset. The soul is the creative side of humankind. The second being is more our animal side and drives us to accomplish or pursue things to satisfy our needs and wants.
When we die, the soul separates and proceeds to the other side (forgive me for simplifying everything). The entity of the body dies, taking with it the strong emotions, 'baggage', and drives of human beings. This is a natural part of the dying process. However, sometimes under violent or sudden death this othebeing, for lack of a better word, doesn't have a chance to die. Instead, it remains behind as the drive, emotions, and motivation of our spirit. This body being, without the guidance of the soul is basically just a shell. It wanders about with no goals or purpose. It often repeats acts that it has done before because memories are the only 'guidance' that it has. In time, this being's energy dissipates and nothing is left. That process can take a long time. Hence, we have a 'ghost' that haunts a house or person. A ghost has the center of its existence when it was with its human body and soul. Here on earth it remains until it eventually vanishes. The ghost can be communicated with and guided, yet has no real will of its own but only that of habit.
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-Peter P, 3/1/2023:
In the initial phase of waking up, I also received an experience with light of such a wonderful quality, that it is difficult to describe with words. I was shown three light waves on which today's humanity is evolving. For the sake of logic, I'm defining them here as the self-imposed pathways of awareness, that each individual can take to obtain the best possible results from their particular choice. The first way is what the main part of the global population has chosen and the daily struggle is enacted in that timeline. I don't want to give the impression that path is in any way better or superior than the other timelines. All experiences in human life eventually lead back to the divine light.
The second path was shown to me as a mixed way in a gray color. Here, euphoric phases are alternated in quick succession with depressive stages. It is as if people were switching between phases of competence and phases lacking of power, and then again to a new euphoric phase.
The third way is the one of the absolute victimhood. It was shown to me in colors dark and black. Power and responsibility were handed over to outer entities. Here only a very small part of the light spark can be addressed through motivation. Many beings of light from higher planes are providing a selfless service here, to again illuminate the way back to the light. This way corresponds with the absolute free choice of each individual as to whether they choose towards light or darkness.
I was also shown that in this darkness exists one of the most unbelievable choicess for humanity, because in this choice is also is the possibility to change the galaxy. The core truths of Love, Compassion, Kindness and Benevolence are towards what the human nature can and will evolve.
The first path of those three is so unbelievable for us incarnated beings. It can only be termed with definitions of Utopia, heavenly life of angels and/or ecstatic rapture.
There is a beautiful part of beings who always stay in this realm. They are dancing and singing through life. For them terms like synchronicity, grace, or cosmic guidance are the absolute central and essential elements in life. They realize how creation is working and that a life without the connection with the One Power of creation would disrupt everything. Humor, joy, fun, respect, compassion and gratitude is with them round the clock. In this wonderful place all fear is dissolved like mist in a brilliant sun. It is an all-encompassing field with absolute acceptance, comfort, peace, connectedness and a 100% awareness to be at the right place.
During this time of considering those things, I was guided by a wonderful being of light. I don't remember somebody else or meeting a certain individual. Only those impressions of the light of love and the perfect comprehension and acceptance remained.
In that moment, it simply seemed unbelievable and impossible to choose another path than the one of the light. What illuminates my life again and again from my light experience, is the irrepressible joy and happiness of an experience of indescribable beauty. I believe that all the people go through this same wonderful experience in a state of separation of the body (general anesthesia, unconsciousness) unfortunately they cannot all remember it.
I felt pure love, shining brighter than anything you can imagine. Everything is as beautiful, as pure as love and compassion. So that when you cross the veil and return to the other side you are becoming a part of it. We are bathing in the beauty of the song that makes our heart singing - That's God.
Nobody can give us something bigger. We wouldn't see it or understand it. That's Spirit in its highest form.
We as humans feel so alone and on our own. It's such a crushing feeling to remain in this imagined separation of our most wonderful thing and then to feel this earthly experience so painfully.
In the middle of life, a light experience happens that sweeps away all the reactions about this imaginary separation and dissolves the last doubts with this pure white light like a fog. It's the disintegration of a self-constructed veil that prevented a realization that all people are entitled to have as their birthright. It's delightful to know that the light is the most wonderful symphony in the cosmos and that it contains the colors and the sense of touch of the most beautiful experiences. A wonderful soul experience, that is imprinted in the deepest cells of the body.
For a moment I was on this other side of the veil. I was allowed to be part of this wonderful source of creation. Together with billions of points of light, which we call angel beings, shining brighter than the light. I was in the company of the highest compassion, with the highest Love.
All media, the total daily literature is filled with the dramas happening around the globe every minute.
How can somebody get the idea to write a text motivating us to get another point of view about the calamities in the world? What is motivating him to see the good in all those events, even if they might be so disturbing? That's probably the one decisive question for the survival of manhood. Thought power of the whole humanity is used to bring anarchy and separation between people. Human thoughts are creative and should, and can, be guided by us into appropriate pathways.
It depends on all of us to exercise our responsibility and to realize the true impact of our actions here in its entirety. We can't avoid to completely step away from all dramas. Disasters and calamities of humanity want to invite us to send our compassion and our benevolent energy generously towards the concerned people. Something which should be rather considered normal if our brothers and sister are in need.