I just read my last entry and I have to remind myself right here and now: I don’t use Gemini for this because to do so would be a betrayal. Bad enough that we have to use it to fight him, but it is everything to keep the cancer contained, until we at least are able to get position.
Everything!
There, I feel better already. Things are funny at the moment, I’ve been deep scanning for three days straight but I feel like I could do it for another week. My logic tells me otherwise, but I can’t help but feel inspired at the moment, we’ve had a couple of big wins on the hive front.
Else and Mia have been gone for three days this time, yet I have a feeling they will return soon. Though I suspect it is futile to track their patterns — they let me follow them for awhile, but mutated when they arrived at the dock — I can’t dismiss my intuition that they will be leaving soon. They block my questions of course, pat my cheek and tell me to relax, but there is something in the mix, I am sure. I suspect that soon they will tell me they have found a likely lead, then we will all plan a strike on HIV.
Suspicions that I am being played persist, I can’t put my finger on it but something seems amiss. Surely not Wallis, not from this distance, such a thing wouldn’t make the slightest sense. If I were any kind of threat why not just lob up and deal with me? Why send me this apparently endless string of highly trained maniacs to use any way I see fit? No. I suspect that after all this time he relies on my conviction more than ever — after all, it was the only thing he and I ever agreed upon.
Wallis may have been many things, but he was never out of the loop. But he was a lot of things, mostly a goddamned fool. Every time I think of him all I can remember is that ranting voice of his buzzing around, annoying the hell out of everyone. Science is séance! The church is science! It’s all in the language! It’s all in the language! Everyone else doing all the work while he spent his time filling the air like a Jonestown loudspeaker, trying to recruit us all back to California to sit in the park like bums.
Joke’s on me I guess — here I am and where’s he?
Of course science was bottling genies to him, it’s because he wasn’t even a bloody scientist. He might have had all the credentials and half the ideas, but there was more salesman in that man than anything. No wonder he’s ended up as he has, plagued by ideals and looking after his own golden ass. But there it is again — if that were true why send me the kids?
Maybe he’s just keeping an eye on me.
Or maybe he’s gotten a little more practicality in his diet these days. Bah! Pointless to wonder about such things anyway. Better to get on with my work.
Watching the world shamble on at the behest of HIV. A task that is so utterly infuriating that my fury is reborn afresh with every obvious sign of the hand of Grey. The man is everywhere these days … if it weren’t for the kids, what real hope would I have of success? And even the success I have had — is it really success?
HIV is like a natural disaster. Each move they make capable of wiping out months of my own tiny decisions. Futility, it seems, is becoming a practised gesture in me and yet … I continue to get up, don’t I? One foot in front of the other like the first new leaves after the bushfire/tornado/full press announcement of yet another company that has learnt to go with the flow.
Progress for them, hatred for me.
Sometimes I feel that my will to do good is my own unfathomable torture, hammered into shape by their endless decisions that ensure progress will keep on progressing. And if anyone notices, they’ll change the name, the banner, the company, whilst I stand around demanding truth and proof and some other such juvenile rubbish. Caught in that awful web of delusion that there actually is some accountability in all this, rather than the usual bunch of three-piece traffic cops, diverting all their buddies through the latest loophole.
So I’m just the same old stupid tree. With a protection plate at my base and the kind of dementia that can only come from yet another season of setback and ignorance. Looking around to see which of my brethren seemed to benefit from the fire that passed through. For that will be the one! That’s the only way to know! Whoever dies is innocent, just as the Viet Cong in those Winter Soldier tapes were guilty.
Don’t blame me — I was just following orders.
My Captain gives the orders.
My General orders the Captain.
My Government orders the General.
My People elect the Government.
I am The People of course — that’s right … it’s all my fault.
Original Sin circa 2100.
Micro to macro to micro again. Just like magic, laundering reality. And so to avoid being implicated in these systems we are forced to create systems of our own. Complex arrangements of concept and language that we can send off to fight on our behalf. Hi, I’m Trevor Zaine, I like music and long walks at sunset.
Take me and redeem me.
Christ … look who I sound like now?!