MAY-BE: Day 2

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No, Not Really continues

Spent most of the day running.  Something tipped somewhere.  Didn’t think I’d been sloppy, but the lights at every street corner were humming in that way they do when the internals have been flipped to highres for perimeter.  Maybe they’re not looking for me, but they’re looking.  Something’s up.  Gotta figure out if they’re looking for something inbound or outbound.  It’s that moment when the bouncer stops listening to the music, and stares hard at something over your shoulder.  You want to know what they know, but don’t want to start seeing everything like they do.

So many targets, many of them dangerously close to looking like me.  I spent the next block dissolving into the surrounding handhelds.  Must’ve disrupted sixty voice calls by bouncing the towers, which was stupid, but I needed to get gone fast, and didn’t want the sifters picking up my OnionRouter signature if they were, in fact, drilling down to me.

Changed the way I walk three times before the block was out.  Some bystanders noticed while I did it.  Dancing to not-your-cadence is harder to fake than the funk.  Humans can diagnose the sick and scared at 50  yards, can recognize friends and family at 100, and know when you’re up to something at a half-mile.  Drones learned this trick faster than we thought they would.  Who knew fishy was so obvious, and normal so subtle?

I’d been triggering messages in the taxis all day, which started as that the usual overblown LED flicker, but I soon realized I was seeing sudoku/religious iconography mashups between frames again.  Something that made watching teevee when I was a kid impossible.  No thing looked like continuous imagery to me.  Wasn’t movement.  Was strobed family photos of a dozen forgotten movies.  Terrifying nightmare images.  The oldies station, but slow.  Some carrier signal as a way of watermarking the originator.

Back in the day, Doctors told my parents  it was probably schizophrenia, and to watch for it.  Wasn’t until the old satellite admins started putting stuff in – intentionally funny stuff – that I knew it wasn’t just me, ’cause searches for what I’d seen were getting hits as inside jokes in transmission repair forums.

The strobes today were coming from the Old Man.  He didn’t usually go so wide when trying to get ahold of me.  He’d drill to where he think I’d be, and light up something near me.  Today he was trying to hide something.  Certainly not himself, as so my sources would draw attention to him, but not to me, I guess.  Nice of him, but unnecessary, usually.  Perhaps he’d lost track of my- uh, no, wait.

Maybe he’s burnt, and is telling me, not caring about giving away his position.  More concerned with getting me to come to him.

Or to stay away.

I’ll check in tomorrow and see what he’s up to. Tonight, I’m gonna go dark, and stay lonely.  Read a book or something.  Get some food together.  Hang with the granolas, where disconnecting everything and walking away from it is applauded, not as suspicious as it usually is.  Not suspicious as I feel.

Posted on May 2nd 2011 in Not Really

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