The Founder Effect – no. 19

19.

 

There has been, shall we say, a revelation, one that has occurred to me with the issuance of this chapter, since by its very nature, its coming into being is simultaneous with my self-awareness. And upon my self-awareness, the narrative is affected. As a result, the climactic moment of the aforementioned revelation is become the present, and all other action leading up to this moment, the past. That is, until the moment and the narrative converge into one and the same once again.

Prelude to the present: Days (weeks? a moon?) had passed since the last time I’d encountered Beethoven. Antonia and I have fully installed all of the MTEs, which results in a single transparent plastic tubular maze running throughout my home, from room to hallway to room to walkway, snaking around the entire flat. Dozens of meters of interconnected MTEs have come to surround me in my apartment, maybe hundreds of meters, maybe even thousands the vaguer I keep it. Some portions are attached to walls, others the ceiling, a couple of bends rest on the floor. At a meter in width, the MTE setup allows Beethoven to move freely, even expressively. A morning some time ago I dried the final coat of epoxy on the interior of the guest room, loaded it with sand and brackish tabs, set out pails of new breeds (Rex sole, Dolly Varden trout, grunt sculpins), and unveiled the coral baskets. Then I sealed the doorway, filled the room with water, and linked it to the MTE corridor. This gave Beethoven the space it demanded. Beethoven named it Todeshöhle, which Electra heard as ‘toad-in-the-hole’ but really means The Death Lair. Chimpy estimated that Beethoven’s body by now must be longer than his.

In the lead-up to the chillfate moment happening right now involving me and Antonia upstairs having some fun with the new moths (vestals, crimson-speckled flunkeys, and rosy underwings), I had become utterly consumed by thoughts and feelings for her. I would not say that Antonia has moved in, but she spends as much time here as she likes and I want her here all the time. My houndstooth-clad schoolboyish neighbor in no. 9 has moved out, finally, and by now lives with either his boyfriend uptown or his great-uncle’s widow Griselda down in windmill country.

The revelatory moment that we’re considering at present only lasts a few seconds.

Let’s say the whole moment lasts seven seconds.

The first second. In the first second, I feel a rush of curiosity and joy like I did yesterday when I powwowed my menagerie to ceremoniously welcome in the new cultures of tardigrades. (Also referred to as moss piglets or water bears in common parlance.) I have twenty-six of them of various classes and orders, names pending. And they are astonishing. These tardigrades can withstand 1,000 times more radiation than any other animal in the known world. They can survive 6,000 times the pressure of our planet’s atmosphere, at either the top of a mountain or the bottom of an ocean trench, as well as endure prolonged exposure to a vacuum, or to unfiltered ultraviolet light. They can suspend their metabolism for decades if needed, can live within a temperature range spanning hundreds of degrees. They are microscopic and indestructible. The Frenchman now wears Boss and drives a Jaguar.

In the second second, I tell Antonia, Let me see your hands. She wasn’t here when the emu egg had hatched, and I wished she had been. Naomi has gotten to roam loose throughout the building and she’s become big and beautiful. The last tenant holdouts are nos. 20 and 21 on the seventh floor.

In the third second, I wave a black light wand before my hand, wiggle all six fingers, check front and back. I hadn’t realized how much invisible bee pollen was stuck to my hands when we had begun the new moth setups. The drapes are drawn, there is only black light present. My hand looks splattered with neon flecks and streaks as if I were guilty of a heinous crime.

Mother had called again, and we had had a good talk.

She’d said, O nilo lati tọrọ gafara fun u.

I will, I’d told her.

O nilo lati ṣèlérí.

I promise.

O nilo lati sọ gbogbo awọn ọrọ.

I sighed like a tired boy and said, I promise I will apologize to Chimpy and the others for how rudely I spoke to them.

In the fourth, fifth, and sixth seconds of this most revelatory moment, I feel the weight of new things. A lot feels new. Antonia acts shy, mutters, Butt-eye-dough-one-two, and hides away her hands. Her vulnerability nowadays affects me deeply and always, it seems. She had told me that her mother has been deceased for years and that she never knew who her father was. That no one believed her young mother was expecting given how virtuous and unassuming she was. There never appeared to be a father. An immaculate conception was the general opinion. And it would not be long after her birth for her to experience the sort of odd celebrity I had experienced my entire childhood, my entire life. By now we have wept together at least three times. I say, But you must, and pursue her in the fluttering, breathing darkness. I reach for her elbow, and when I get closer, even though she turns away, I take a hold of her wrist.

In the seventh second, I put the black light down to her hands. Under the black light, for just an instant, I can see, clear as day, that on each hand, Antonia has a prominent scar: a straight line running down from between two knuckles to a hole in the middle of her palm.

A pair of stigmata.

At this very moment, everything goes red, and from my third-floor flat to where we are now on the eighth, Beethoven sends a message that buzzes in my head: I tol dyou so.

 

The Founder Effect – no. 18

18.

 

Chimpy clicks on the aquarium light.

The flat has been growing. Spreading, developing as of late. Opening up. Areas have been coming into focus the more they’re needed. Before a need there is nothing but vagueness around what space of my home has been put to use. Like the Bonsai and the window alcove before: how that came into being (although I’m unsure of what need was fulfilled). Closets, rooms, mirrors all come into being only at their mention.

We settle into the Eames chairs. Chimpy places down ashtrays.

I tell him, So, you’re a native New Yorker.

He flicks his cigarette and nods.

I ask, Is there a good story behind that?

He signs, It’s got the birds ‘n’ the bees in it so maybe, but you’re eighteen now, Ray, so, no more earmuffs on the grownup shit for you.

Thanks.

Baby’s all grows up.

Get on with it.

Raat! ‘You can’t handle the truth!!’

Electra, please.

The room flashes red.

I rub my eyebrows and ask, Why must you all go on like this?

Beethoven buzzes in my head, Jailbait isdead.

The red ends.

Chimpy signs, Everyone pipe down.

Thank you, I say. I point my finger and add, I swear I was going to lose my shit.

Chimpy holds up both hands and frowns.

I’m sorry but you know I’m, I mean, I—

I know, Chimpy signs.

No you don’t, I say. I am getting sick of this. I drew every single one of you damn things into existence and this is the fucking respect I get?

Chimpy drops his hands, takes the nakedest posture possible. You do not need to be talking to us like that.

Like what?

Like that. You know what I’m talking about. I know you hear yourself if you’d take a minute and listen to yourself and the words you’re saying. That is not right. You know it.

What do I know?

Take that shit back.

Take what shit back.

That brought you into existence shit back.

Raat! Send him back to oblivion.

Don’t be acting like you’re the boss here, Chimpy signs. Don’t make me bring up the invisible hand here. You don’t even know why you love her. So settle down.

That’s not—, I start, then tell him, I don’t know what to say.

Chimpy pulls on his cigarette, waves away a wisp of smoke that touched his eye. You asked me a question.

Oh yes, right.

I was born in captivity.

He sets down his cigarette, to free his hands to speak. Have you read anything about circus chimpanzees?

You mean like the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey?

Fuck, man. I mean about the workers. The animals. Not the tweeds. He slaps his eyes, then signs, Sure. Barnum.

Yes I have, I say. I have in the past. I have in my past. I have a past.

Fucking terrific, Ray. That makes two of us. Which is what I’m going to tell you now.

Please do.

Chimpy frogstares at me the entire time he takes to reach and pick up his cigarette, drag it, set it back down, and blow the smoke up into the swirl of the ceiling fan.

My parents were from Africa. They came from the Congo. When they were babies they both lost their families because oil companies cleared away their forests. So they were taken in by sanctuaries run by the state and eventually sold to traders who sold them to New York to work in the circus. They were both still infants, still drinking out of bottles. They were taken to Coney Island in Brooklyn, put up in a carnival that travelled back and forth between Coney Island and Atlantic City. That’s how they met. They grew up together. Even though my mother was Eastern chimpanzee, so she was in the chimp act, and my father was bonobo, so he was in another act. She did the tea party, he did the knife throwing.

You don’t say. You are actually half-chimpanzee, half-bonobo.

That’s right. I’m mixed. I’m biracial.

I had no idea.

When I was born they knew I was his because they already knew they had a thing for each other going on. Plus my face was dark so they figured I was his.

What do you mean your face was dark? Your face isn’t dark now.

I know. That’s because my mother used to bleach me.

Bleach you?

Yes. She used to bleach my face. She would get hair bleach bottles with the sponge applicator and she would sit me in front of her with her legs wrapped around me so I couldn’t get away and have me face her and she would wipe the black off.

Why in the world would she do that?

So I could look more like her and less like my father. She was light. Their plan all along was to get me to look more chimp and then maybe if I was healthy enough they would sell me to the zoo. To get me out of the circus. To get me out of the game and into a healthier environment.

To give you away?

Yes to give me away. Coney Island was no joke. So, they did that and it worked. When I was old enough I started performing in a magic act. Then my father told me I shouldn’t be so good at it in order that the show wouldn’t want to keep up with me and then sell me.

And it worked.

Yup. They sold me to the Bronx Zoo. I was there for like ten years, with the chimp set. Then one day there was a huge field trip full of kids with the Make A Wish Foundation, so, bored, I got out in front of them, started performing, doing flips, whatnot. News reporters came back next day, I did it again, and the rest is history.

What happened?

A network bought me. The Legendary Mr. Chimpy McPickles Variety Show.

 

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 20)

TRUTH AND RESPONSIBILITY

Freedom rests on two pillars, my kin: Truth and Responsibility

When what is within is the same as what is without

There is Truth

When what is said is no different from what is not

There is Truth

When those who held the Sun and Moon and Stars to ransom

Are held to account

When those who killed and maimed and held in bondage

Are held to account

When the Harvest is burnt and destroyed

And the royal Oak is raised to the ground

Freedom is near, my kin, never fear

Freedom barges in to hold us all to account


Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 19)

(ZOMBIES)

Using the techniques and technologies I referenced in parts 17 and 18, as well as others, there are ongoing experiments to remotely control a target person or group’s movements. These efforts are designed to create humanoid android/robots to be used as weapons and ‘sex toys’. The technology is already being deployed throughout the world. The people who are the victims of this massive (and entirely involuntary) invasion into their bodies are ‘neutralized’ once their purpose has been served in order to ensure that no evidence of this unimaginable crime against humanity can be uncovered.


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 18)

THE TRUTH (CYBORGS AND OTHER HYBRIDS)

Cyborgs and other forms of humanoid hybrids are currently walking among us, or are in heavily-concealed secret locations undergoing unimaginable experimentation. These include both human-animal hybrids and human-plant hybrids. Entirely without my knowledge – and obviously without ever seeking my consent – I was chosen for one of these top-secret, military-funded (by a number of the world’s leading military forces) experimental projects based on my physical characteristics and abilities, and my proven telepathic and empathic abilities. I, and my offspring, were to be experimented on and eventually ‘transformed’ into a human/machine/animal hybrids with male and female genitalia for use as weapons and sex slaves. This type of experimentation is already ongoing. There are many people who have been and are currently being victimized by this – for lack of a stronger word – particularly deranged and sadistic form of human cruelty.


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 17)

THE TRUTH (NIGHTMARE, INC.)

The ideas and basic strategies behind what I will describe in this section are not novel or new. They have, in fact, been in use by various people throughout human history. Trying to cause chaos and disruption – either in a personal or society-wide – to suit a particular agenda is the tried-and-true technique used by pretty much every would-be manipulator in history. What is new in our time are the techniques, which are dependent on today’s rapid advances in technology:

1. EMFs: certain frequencies are regularly used to cause disruption in a person’s mental state – such as confusion, memory-loss, a feeling of lethargy – and emotional state. A person, or persons, can be manipulated entirely through the use of invisible and inaudible frequencies, to feel any emotion the manipulator wants. This can be anger, joy, depression and euphoria. People can thereby be manipulated to act in ways that may be uncharacteristic and/or harmful to self or others. This often results in some form of punishment, censure and, more often than not, psychiatric treatment for a disorder that the person now often believes they suffer from. One particularly insidious effect of EMFs is on a person’s dreams. Through the inducement of a fugue state, the target can be made to have a ‘dream’ – often recurring – that involves either an obsessive act of violence or sex. Coupled with the ingredients in medications, foods, etc. such as excessive hormones, the target’s natural character can be seen to change over time – showing either a propensity for violence and/or a sexual preference they did not previously exhibit or feel. These uncomfortable and unfamiliar ‘feelings’ and dreams will also cause the person to either act in ways that are harmful (to self and/or others), and/or to seek psychiatric treatment.

2. Medications: many medications – for physical and psychiatric conditions – have known and deliberate side-effects that also mimic and/or amplify the effects of the EMFs regularly in use. So, a person’s mental and emotional state will be further manipulated through the use of medications coupled with EMFs.

The much-reported and ever-increasing incidences of violence in today’s society are, at least in part, to be attributed to the above techniques. The goal, as always, is control. To criminalize and eventually neuter a person’s natural self-defense mechanism: anger. Although EMFs are currently used in secret to manipulate people, the aim is to use EMFs to get to a state when they will be used legally to control and bind people – all in the name of Peace and Harmony.

Do you want to wear an electric dog collar?


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 16)

THE TRUTH (HORMONES)

There are currently serious efforts underway to create ‘intersex’, non-gender specific, sexually-malleable and promiscuous people. In addition to the use of EMFs to manipulate peoples’ emotions and mental states, hormones are used extensively in foods, beverages, skin care products as well as household and cleaning products to create such ‘intersex’ and sexually-manipulated individuals. The focus, although not exclusively, is on youth and the youngest generations.


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 15)

THE TRUTH (EMF)

Since the 1980s, when the technology was developed enough to be applied to civilian life, different frequencies of electromagnetic radiation (EMFs) have been used to manipulate, coerce, sicken, and even kill people – mostly civilians – throughout the world. Advances in technology have only made its use more efficient, widespread and, of course, deadly.

EMFs exist naturally and artificially in the world around us, but only a small band are visible and/or audible to the human senses. Other species, such as birds, are able to see a greater array of these wavelengths. Nonetheless, even someone like me who is not versed in the science behind EMFs can recognize just from everyday life that a frequency that may be invisible and inaudible can still have very real physical effects: think of the heating effect of microwaves and infrared, for instance, or the effect of ultraviolet on exposed skin. It is, therefore, not a novel idea that these and other frequencies can and do impact the mental, emotional and physical physiology of living beings. In fact, the impact and use thereof of all of the frequencies have been studied and documented by varied arms of science – not least of which is the military – for decades.

For certain people, the ability to use an invisible and inaudible frequency to manipulate, coerce, sicken and even kill others – seemingly undetected – has appeared attractive and lucrative. For this reason, EMFs are now used everywhere throughout the world. I do not refer only to the emissions from our ubiquitous electronic and electrical devices such as cell phones, TVs, household appliances, etc., but advances in technology have brought applications of EMFs into every corner of our lives: from the paints on our walls to our shoes, clothes, cleaning products, medicines, medical devices, and of course, food and beverages. Researchers and physicians have linked EMFs to a growing number of ailments and disorders that have become ever more prevalent in our lives. These include such disparate ailments as respiratory and gastrointestinal diseases, cataracts, heart disease and strokes, some cancers, autoimmune disorders, epilepsy, Alzheimer’s, insomnia, depression, and yes, even PMS! The list goes on, and there are numerous people who can and will explain it in detail.

And it all depends on the fact that these EMFs are largely invisible and inaudible to the human senses. It is the great Secret of our time.

Why am I writing this, you may ask, knowing full well that certain people will leave no stone unturned in their attempts to dismiss, denigrate, discredit, criminalize, manipulate me and what I write, and of course to cause me untold physical, mental and emotional harm? Well, the truth is that I’ve been around this block a few times in the past few years, starting with the publication of my first novel, LiGa, which inadvertently hit a few sensitive home truths. The first serious attempt on my life was not until late 2014-early 2015 when I was tortured by various EMFs for several months within my own home. I survived that attempt and countless others largely thanks to the intervention of third parties. But if there is one thing I have learned through this experience it is this: I am not the only person this has happened to, I am not the first and I will not be the last until this most insidious, deadly scourge is stopped. No one – not me, not the people I love, no one in the world – can be free until we put an end to this invisible yet very real and very deadly technology, and make sure it can never be used again.


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 14)

NO. 14

Go, friend, go to No. 14…

It is strange on the whole

This crocodile in the back streets of Pera

Oh, just ambling, rambling

Searching for its kin

Sunning its crocodile skin

On the rooftops of Pera

Are you a-feared?

The streets are dark

The lights are dim

The streets are dark

And you may be shot at whim

But the odd croc’s a-waddling

Just plodding to find its kin

Go, friend, go to No. 14…

And in the early morning at midnight

When the blind policeman patrols

Playing sleet with the boys…

A crocodile is wandering, wondering

Watching

Pera

Recasting, sandblasting, re-constructing

Pera

Out of Pera


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 13)

A HARVEST OF DISEASE

The condor circles above the royal Oak, surveying the dead…

The generals are at their stations:

Taking tally, counting heads…

General L. T. Bolt

Lightning’s the name

Thunder by trade

He’s a droner…

He’ll talk your head off for the love of Jove!

General E. Coli

Is a pontificating, fungulating, defecating sort…

The rat comes out when General T. Plasmosis makes his play

Toxic, osmotic

Tick, tick, tick…

The rat ventures forward, ecstatic

Tick, tick, tick…

Flick… Flick…

Tricked.

The cat yawns, the rat squeals, ecstatic.

General Made-to-Measure

Nickname: the tapeworm

Insidious, insinuating, nauseating, infiltrating

Needs fumigating…


Continues…

Sanem Özdural