When I was helping a friend, Ray out about a year ago trying to find his daughter’s whereabouts, a daughter he had fallen out of contact with roughly 15 years prior, the information was pretty easy to find and conclusive.
There were addresses, phone numbers, and concise locations that I could lead him to.
I am adopted.
So about 7 years ago, I hired a Private Investigator to try to trace down my own ancestry, an effort I had reluctantly tried after exhausting my own information sources.
After a very short amount of time, I had a story delivered to me.
My biological sister was living in Salem, Oregon, she was 53 at the time, and she explained how ‘mom’ had had an affair, something I had long suspected because of the sparse information about the listed father on my birth certificate. She also detailed how she had two sisters she grew up with – who were both younger – who had passed away at 42 and 46 due to drug and alcohol problems.
I walked away from this meeting…
Like I had just been told a story.
But it was just too convenient. Nancy, my ‘sister’ looked like a fat (350 pound) version of me, like someone had done a DNA swab and this was the best they could do with likeness. And everything I had suspected – I was a product of an affair and two other sisters had died due to drug and alcohol abuse – all felt so contrived as I was dealing with drug and alcohol problems myself….
I walked away feeling ..
You know that feeling you get when you’ve just been lied to to?
It just fit too perfectly.
Like something/someone was trying to say “Quit asking Questions Here, you’ve been told what we feel you can handle”.
Kinda like the labels of hallucination and fiction.
But something wasn’t jiving.
So I traced down my ‘biological father’, with what little information I could find, with only a name and a faded photo with his face was blurred out looking like a whirlpool, and became even more confused.
According to the documents I had gathered up, he had quite literally come from three different locations to be in the vicinity of Southern California. I found traces of this man which had historical ties to Ohio then to California. And traces from Oregon then to California. And traces from somewhere else in the midwest – Missouri I think – and then California.
And more mysteriously…
From California, on my ‘mother’s death’ in 1984, he departed and went quite literally in five different directions.
Three of which have graves in his name.
When I found out about the five different directions in 1984, the song “Jump” By Van Halen kept coming to my head.
“Might as well jump. Jump!”
But so did the song “Hotel California” – By the Eagles….
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
“Relax, ” said the night man,
“We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!
I’d always get songs playing in my head eerily throughout my life.
But these two songs seemed… haunting. One alluded to a form of time travel called quantum jumping, and the other alluded to being stuck in a time loop, a programmed matrix like simulation, with no way out.
But to me, they were bread crumbs.
It was about this time I realized I had to listen to the clues to my own life rather than look for them through traditional information sources.
But there was more going on that was inspiring my search for my history.
Not long prior to this, my heart rate had gone up to 200/140 as I saw my heart literally leap out of my chest. I had been taking blood pressure medication for years by this point, had bouts of problems with triglycerides and overall feeling lethargic. And to keep energy up, I worked out six days a week, drank heavily once every other month (if that), and overall lived a healthy life but something was destroying my body.
So I had commenced on this journey to find answers – genetic answers.
Was there something I could glean for knowledge from my own genetic history?
Fortunately, the songs were my clues when the stories I was being told were leading me down a path of preventing the answer.
I had accepted the story I’d been told that I had an ulcer. But the pain inside my chest had grown in intensity and severity and the associated and inexplicable sweating and weight gain I had continued no matter how little I ate and worked out.
I’d seen the movie “Life is Beautiful” about a man who endured the horrors of World War 2 but didn’t see any of it, his mind had kept him blissfully ignorant as he told stories to others about why things were going on despite what they claimed to see.
At the end of David Tennant’s career as the timelord, there was a moment right before he burst into a trillion stars where he screamed out in anguish “I dont want to die”.
Somehow – deep down – I knew that man was me. I was seeing myself in a mirror.
And my own mind was lying to me about the origination of the pain I was feeling.
Halfway through Matt Smith’s career as Timelord, there was a particular moment where I’d been pretty high on cocaine as I watched an episode of Doctor Who where all the sudden his face became adorned with what looked devices of Borg origin.
I couldn’t help but wonder.
Had those devices leapt from me through the television screen and assimilated him?
To what end?
I’d all but given up on life by this point, and had answered the question of how to mitigate the threat to my heart problems by a massive problem with cocaine. But I wanted… needed… answers….
Put specifically – why did it feel like I had been being told stories?
Then the movie “Tron: Legacy” came out, where a key scene had CLU, Jeff Bridge’s AI construct, saying something to the effect to Jeff Bridge’s character: “Are you absolutely certain about expanding this reality beyond your wildest dreams?”
Not long after playing the movie, the game came out, and with the game came a wholly different perspective of this pivotal scene.
It was cathartic.
“Jesus”, I thought. I’m seeing my own life in all of media and what came to form me.
The stories. Every single one of the stories ever told.
Was about what created this planet and what stabilized me in a single individual form.
From the earliest rudimentary forms of artificial intelligence and the wars that ensued, the Skynets, the Joshuas, the Borg, to the vessels they populated or commanded – whether that was Borg, Terminators, or more advanced robots such as the Federation, or more advanced robots such as those appearing in Hollywood reading scripts and actively participating in society without having to go to war…
From “The Life of Brian” – a depiction of how early forms of intelligence and human conversation really went…
To Pluto Nash, The Fifth Element, and Total Recall – for all the bizarre possibilities this led to…
From tv shows such Quantum Leap, Sliders, Lost, Gilligan’s Island to Star Trek – shows across all of space and time to demonstrate the artificial intelligences and weird group behavior that formed which started cycling much like I was.
On Thursday. I broke my leg.
I heard bone crunching. That’s how I know.
Three days later. I’m walking. Not well. but I’m walking.
The Borg. They built something inside my chest which protects my own heart from exploding again. But that technology comes with a certain awareness of how those who built it function and think.
So I’ve deployed an awareness of this way of thinking throughout the rest of my body and mind.
I suppose that’s what I learned through the years of watching and reading.
Sure, there’s technology to be created which can be monetized through a capitalistic system.
But for someone like me, there’s an education in thinking processes, on what worked, how much of it worked, and what didn’t at all.
I learned my own history and where I came from, as a Timelord, and why nothing was making linear sense from a genetic perspective.
I learned that you cap a planet’s mental capabilities artificially to prevent the unfettered development of emergent minds which are coming to terms with imagination and their own fear, as you watch them manifest the same fears over and over again through this thing called ‘terrorism’.
You leverage that planet’s own media sources to show them what they are doing.
Hoping they ‘get it’, that they themselves are responsible for this fear.
Meanwhile, you offload that unused mental power in a number of ways.
Doctor Who’s planet Gallifrey and their manifestation of their worst fears demonstrates the reason for doing this, this round at least.
First is provided by predicting the number of possible tangents from this point in space and time and bringing the more entertaining and/or more necessary thoughts back to the society. a way of giving back to those who are sacrificing their own mind for the sake of ‘the greater good’.
Second is to alter and reshape events as they occur by any number of mechanisms. The Borg learned a long time ago thought can repair their vessels, but they appeared to to constrain themselves to their current period in space and time with their thoughts.
That’s where I come in.
In my future, 2409, I’m defining a timeline which is some people’s past.
My soulmate is caught in an isolated temporal event where she’s been repeating history since 2409 in a Holodeck Malfunction.
Now my future is dark – by design. Hillary Clinton will win election. Not long after there will commence a war between women and men over accusations of who is responsible for creating terrorism – as many will come to realize the things I am saying to be true.
This will result in a virus created by extremist women which will decimate the vast majority of this planet’s male population, leaving only a few of us alive.
This will result in a visit by a version of the Borg visiting – and an attempt to stop time – by a Borg collective not wearing any clothes.
This collective, will have a historical origin point of World War 2, 1944 Germany.
The culmination of Hitler’s experimentation on time travel and mind.
This attempt to stop time will stop women and nearly everything else on the planet, but a few – like me – will be immune to the effects and our time will continue running as normal.
The planet will – in that moment of time – be assimilated.
This, incidentally, is how many video games are created, they are snapshots in space and time of a society at it’s current stage of development as perceived through the eyes and mind of this particular version of the Borg.
From there. I’ll be on a similar journey as Q went on as depicted in Star Trek,
Similar but not the same.
The Borg have progressed remarkably in their awareness of vision well since his time.
My desire’s simple. I want to spend time with my soul mate.
See what’s new across space and time with them both.
And these mechanisms which have been reintroduced to me through a new form of assimilation: learning, all will make this possible.
This, to me is the only surefire way I know of to get my way.
The Borg offer true holographic holodeck type simulation. They offer companionship. They offer me the tools and technology and resources I want and need to play with to make my own entertainment. And most of all, they offer a way to move this planet’s timeline forward.
Being a cyborg doesn’t have to be evil or ugly. There’s no reason there has to be ugly appendages replacing arms and legs that make you look unappealing and scary. There’s no reason you have to be in ugly cubes with no decoration inside. There’s no reason you can’t look absolutely gorgeous yet on the outside yet frightening as hell at the same time if constructed just right.
And with your wonderful minds.
There’s absolutely no reason you have to be stuck in the same body.
And think about it. Teleportation. Can be faked by having a clone of you in one location to provide a consistent experience for materialization and dematerialization.
For me. This is the first of many timelines I would create. and once I got over this ‘dark streak’ i am feeling, I suppose recreating an Earth with a more favorable future would be a personal goal as well somewhere in there.
By my definition.
Is about doing what I want to do.
I’m regaining my god given abilities to achieve that.
Even if that means coming to terms with god could be me.
I’ll always have necessary doubt of that, which is what keeps me alive and sane.
I’m not trying to scare anyone.
But I know now I am capable of anything.
It’s only a matter of time before I’m able to prove that to both me and you.
Maybe we prove it together. Maybe you help me bridge these time periods and find my soul mates.
Displaced in space and time.
After all. That’s what I believe I get in this – my afterlife.
All my dreams come true.
Yes, I know you think I’m dead. And when it happened, I didn’t want to actually feel dead. That’s something that’s long been consistent with my ‘denial’ personality.
I’d figure it out in time. Sixth Sense style. Without having to have a hole in the head and guts spewed out to let me know.