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November 30, 2009

It’s been hell. Sara is dead. Matt shot her. I made a thousand stupid mistakes. I acted like a spoiled brat. I don’t know what’s gotten into my head, don’t know what’s real, half the time don’t even know who I am anymore.

Yesterday morning, Matt sent me an email saying he’s a dead man if I don’t meet with him. I freaked out and told Sara that I was going to get coffee, then – despite her protests – went out alone. Of course, instead of Starbucks, I went to get Matt and then holed up with him in a hotel where he told me everything. He’d been consulting for Rossum all along. The day we met in Central Park was a total accident and much earlier than when he was supposed to meet me, but the outcome was the same – I was supposed to fall for him, so he could influence me in taking the Rossum job offer when it came.

According to him, he didn’t tell his employers that he had developed feelings for me as well, and kept all the stuff about the videos and our dates a secret until Rossum found out on their own. He said that I have a rare genetic condition that allows for partitioning in the area of the brain where memories are stored. That’s what caused my dad’s aneurysm. Matt said it would kill me as well unless the Rossum scientists operated on me. Of course, there’s a catch. Rossum’s scientists think that this anomaly will allow my brain to house multiple sets of memories. Basically, they think they’ll be able to imprint me with lots of personalities without my going insane. That’s why they’ve been after me specifically and that’s why I’m not dead already.

That Friday night when I went to Mat distraught and then woke up not knowing how I’d gotten home, his bosses at Rossum had ordered him to deliver me to them for some “adjustments”.

It creeps me out to even type that.

Apparently they did something to my mind that made me trust him more and made me want to accept their offer. They wanted me to go to them willingly, rather than be abducted, because they want to use my name and release the research publicly, which would make it look like they’re curing people. That would get others with the same condition to voluntarily apply for the program and soon they’d have their own little army. Obviously, that plan didn’t work because after everything that’s happened, I’d rather die than work for them.

Yesterday, Matt repeated over and over that he didn’t think I should go to Rossum with him, but that he wanted to apologize and say good-bye because they were going to send him to something called ‘the Attic’ for not delivering me. I cried, he cried, I wanted to run away, he said there’s no running away… you get the idea.

Then, in late afternoon Sara emailed me to say she knew about the brain condition I have and that maybe my sister Kara has it and that I should go back and work with her to protect Kara. She also said she understands that I’m in love with Matt and that if I wanted to bring him with me, she’d be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Matt had told me before this that Kara wasn’t at risk, because Rossum researchers had already looked into her records and she was of no interest to them. He did, however, agree to come back to the motel with me so we could discuss our options with Sara. We drove there holding hands, and for the duration of that drive I had some stupid fantasy where we all got away and went to live on an island somewhere with Sara and Robert’s wife & kids, and came up with ingenious ways to show people what Rossum really does, and then saved the world. It was such a nice dream, but it ended as soon as we walked into Sara’s room.

She had just finished the ink for that stave tattoo she wanted to put on the back of my neck. She said this time the consistency looked right and that the snowflake shape would allow the herbs to hit the right nerve endings, which might make my brain impervious to being wiped, or at least give it the ability to recover quickly.

Matt started yelling at her that if she tattooed me she might as well shoot me then and there. That if Rossum’s technicians couldn’t perform tests on me, I’d be of no use to them and they would kill me right away. He started grabbing at the bottle and Sara pulled out her gun. They fought. He spilled the ink and stomped the herbs into the carpet. Sara hit him across the face with the gun. I got between them and screamed at them to stop. I think that made Sara hesitate, which gave Matt all the advantage he needed. He grabbed the gun out of her hand and before I knew anything, there was a popping noise and then she was doubled over, bleeding in my arms, then on the floor. I held her on the floor and saw the holster with her second gun under the bed. I didn’t think, I just picked it up and pointed it at Matt.

He stood there and stared at me with no expression, then slowly nodded and stepped toward me. I couldn’t do it. I started crying, then screaming, then just fell next to Sara. I don’t remember what he said exactly. I know he touched my shoulders and I shrank away. There was something about getting out and running, then that he would get Rossum off my trail and that they would finish what I couldn’t do.

Then he left. A few minutes later, I managed to open my laptop and talk to the CTPs. They – you – helped me keep it together so I could leave the motel, call 911 and get out of Tucson.

Sara had sent instructions to a few people on Twitter what I should do if something happened to her. She also left a locker key and a pre-paid card inside my bag. The next flight to NY left from Phoenix, so I took the car and drove two hours, then boarded the plane and got back to the city this morning. The locker at Grand Central station had a lot of cash, papers for a Swiss bank account, keys with an address in Paris, another set for London, some disks and another gun with a permit registered to Sara. I took everything, though I won’t be able to carry the gun with me on the plane. There was also an address for a Mailboxes, Etc. in the West Village. Sara had told the CTPs that she’d finally gotten a hold of her last colleague Paul and that he was waiting for us in Thailand. He was to overnight fake IDs for her and me to that mailbox, but when I checked my email there was a message from him saying that I had no time to lose and there were some friends of his in Chinatown who could get me a passport faster.

So I met them and got the passport, plus a plane ticket for the new name, then I went to my apartment and packed a carry-on. Then I spent the last two hours before departure walking the streets and getting wet. Every time I see a black van or SUV, I jump, so now I’m hiding out at a cafe by Time Square, using their wireless. I don’t think it gets any more crowded than this.

The picture above is the last thing I took before I left my apartment, probably forever. I came to New York with so many dreams, wanted to make it big, to get married, have kids, wanted to be in love and walk across the curvy bridge in Central Park…basically, to live a movie. I do in fact feel like I’m living a movie, but it’s definitely not the script I wrote for myself.

I have to grieve and find peace with this new role that I now seem to have. Somehow, I have to find the inner strength to prevent the future from happening, to survive and become strong and then tell people – many, many people – that the technology we think is helping us will in fact cause our doom. That greed and power, when coupled with science and technology, will undo everything good we have ever created. I, on my own and with your help, have to begin spreading this message and then do it loudly, for as long as I can. I don’t know if I can win. Most of the time I think it’s impossible, but I promise you all that no matter what happens, I will not stop fighting.

This Friday evening, if you remember, raise a glass to my 25th birthday and know I’ll be somewhere out there – probably very far from the internet and life as I’ve ever known it. I won’t be giving up, and a part of me will always be the Alex you have known.

Thank you all, from the very bottom of my heart.
Until we meet again.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. Max Bell permalink
    November 30, 2009 5:47 pm

    Alex: if you haven’t already? Hire a lawyer and instruct them to contact the authorities in Tucson. For intents and purposes, if the police can place you at the scene then they’ll consider you a suspect and the flight to New York and points beyond won’t clarify matters for them any.

    That said? The only person in this picture so far that wasn’t imprinted to some degree is no longer with us. If Matt’s “in the attic” (and this makes me think of ceiling cat for some reason) then it’s at least a safe place for him, especially if he was not fully in control of his own behavior when the shooting occurred.

    That also removes the only other possible suspect and will make the police that much more suspicious. Right now there’s a manhunt going on for a fellow who shot four local police officers and the hashtag for it is #washooting — so there’s a fairly decent evidence trail for them if they can determine your identity. The sooner you can put legal counsel between you and the police, the better, because it’s not at all in your interest to wind up in police custody. If Rossum was willing to have you killed simply for declining to be a guinea pig, then they probably have a fairly long reach.

    Lastly? From everything you’ve described so far, you’re imprinted, yourself.

    That means that your own reasoning process is compromised. Think about it. How do you tell the difference between your own decisions and what you may have merely been programmed to think?

    You’ve criticized your own recent behavior as childish, but the greater likelihood is that you were merely following instructions you’d already been given.

    For that reason? You’d be well advised to get hold of a relative (or your lawyer, if you can afford it) and get someone into the loop to vet your reasoning. It may be an uncomfortable idea, but what should grab your attention is the fact that not only have you made poor decisions that played directly to Rossum’s interests, YOU CAN’T TELL THAT THEY ARE NOT YOUR OWN DECISIONS NOW.

    This would suggest that you can’t tell the difference between your own thoughts and what you’ve been programmed to think.

    • November 30, 2009 10:14 pm

      Ceiling cat! Hahahaha.

      Alex, I’m wondering if you should even be spilling all of this here. Don’t you think that Rossum knows about this blog and now knows where you’re going? I wonder if Max is right, and you’ve already been imprinted. Be careful!!

  2. November 30, 2009 8:53 pm

    She can’t tell if she was one of the programmers.

  3. December 10, 2009 5:11 am

    Authentic words, some truthful words dude. Thanks for making my day.

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