Nearing the end of This Insanity...

FIVE
Excerpts from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[Note from Editors: Oddly enough, the entries in AOI-101PERS’ personal journal do not have dates. We have scanned every single journal entry in AOI-101PERS’ journal, and we have not found a single date in the journal. We even had our research assistants go through the entire journal several times and they did not find a single date in this person’s journal. Not a single date at all. Not a single day at all. In addition to not being a singe date written in AOI-101PERS’ journal, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. We repeat, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. Why AOI-101PERS failed to write down any dates is beyond our comprehension.
In order to figure out what date the journal entry was made or a close approximation for it, we had to look at the journal entry and look through numerous calendars and documents to figure out the date the journal entry was made. Our research assistants were not happy at this prospect. This work, was, and still is, very boring and very tedious. They were not particularly happy while doing this work. We were not happy either. The only good thing that they found about this job was the hourly wage they were paid: $15.50 an hour. This was a dramatic increase from the usual $12.00 an hour they were paid.
We, the editors, have put in dates to make the journal entries make some kind of chronological sense. These dates are in brackets]
Excerpts from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[October 21, 2000]
I had an odd experience today. I also learned an interesting thing about David King. He sure does have some weird hobbies. Then again, it’s weird if you don’t have the same hobby. Well, you know, it does seem interesting. Not that I am going to try his hobby any time soon.
David King is a guy in several of my classes. He is smart, definitely genius level. He seems inhuman with his knowledge level. He could make a killing on Jeopardy. I think he knows everything since he answers questions with a depth of information that puts the professor to shame. I’ve seen the professor write David’s answers down.
David has a cutting wit, sharp use of sarcasm. The guy is funny, really funny. Tall. Quiet personality. Though I think his temper can be easily set off. It’s barely simmering underneath the calm exterior. [Note from Editors: This description of Mr. King’s personality is accurate. All of the personality exams he has taken have come up with these results.]
Well, I was walking on campus, coming back from an awesome football game. The football team finally managed to win a home game, something they haven’t done for a while. I don’t know when was the last time they actually won at home and I’ve spent most of my life in this town. You could say that I am a townie. [Note from Editors: AOI-101PERS has good reason not to remember when the football team last won a game at home. According to the records, the last victory at home by the school’s football team was on November 15, 1997 against their in-state rival, a losing streak of nearly three years. According to the University newspaper, after the win, the fans stormed the field and tore down the goal posts. This act took a while since the fans had little experience in tearing down goal posts. A wit who phoned the newspaper’s Free Phone section, basically an open-forum, made several jokes about this fact. They were very funny, but alas, we failed to copy these jokes down. We agreed that we would insert them in the next edition of this book, due to be published in the fall of 2142.]
Yeah, so I was walking down University Boulevard past the ugliest building on campus. This building is truly ugly in every sense of the term. I heard a rattling sound and I stopped. Nobody was walking on campus at the time, except for me. So I continue to walk. And the rattling sound starts again. OK, this is getting creepy. I hear a grating noise and a loud clank.
I jump up and yell in surprise. When was the last time a manhole cover pops off by itself? Unless you are in a horror movie or Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video as a zombie extra.
Who should climb out from the sidewalk but David King?
He has a head lamp on his head. He is wearing heavy work gloves, a sweatshirt, and a pair of old blue jeans. His sweatshirt is covered in dirt and some other unknown substance that I do not want to know what it is. David has a backpack slung over his shoulders. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to know what it is. His face is red, but I don’t see any sweat.
David says nonchalantly, as if this is normal, “Hi! How are ya! I didn’t expect to see you here right now! The football game was great! I was under the stadium when they tore down the goal posts! Took a while, but they did manage.”
I’m too surprised to say anything. After all, this is not a normal thing that happened right now. This is one of the few times I am speechless. It takes a while to say something.
“Dave…um…hi. Nice…to see you?” I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you climb out of a manhole on campus. What are you doing?”
Dave laughs in response. His response is deadpan. “Oh nothing. Just the usual stuff. I’m just coming up for some air. It does get stuffy and hot down in the steam tunnels.” He has a grin on his face. He must enjoy this activity enough to risk trespassing charges or personal injury.
“Steam tunnels? What on Earth are you doing down there?”
“They’re there. I want to explore them. That simple. When it snows up there, you always stay warm down here. And you get great access to the basketball arena. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to snag a good seat. Court side seats too.”
Did I mention that David has a sense of humor? Sometimes it gets strange, but I find it funny. He’s like a strong cup of tea, a strange brew. You have to get used to this type of humor. At least I think it is humor. It’s hard to distinguish the difference sometimes between humor and seriousness with David.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Nope. Not joking at all. Excuse me.” He climbs up the ladder and crawls onto the sidewalk. He brushes the dust off his clothes. “The steam tunnels go under the basketball arena. You can enter the basketball arena by entering a door down there. It’s the green door to the left. The set of stairs leads you up to the basketball court. The door by the sidelines. The gray one. As I said, good seats.” [Note from Editors: This is an accurate description of how to enter Keller Arena from the university steam tunnels. We have maps of the old steam tunnels from this time and we had records from several steam tunnel maintenance workers. And we also have records from numerous college steam tunnel explorers. Their written instructions on how to reach the basketball court from the steam tunnels, in more details, basically state the same thing as Mr. King. So he had knowledge on the college steam tunnels.]
“OK…I see. I’m not sure if that explains a lot.”
The rest of the conversation is of a more normal nature. The usual, meaningless conversation that people say to pass the time. But with David, the normal conversation seems less normal, but takes on a different level. It is never dull to say the least.
He notices what time it is. “It’s close to 9:00PM and it is getting dark. Sorry to have kept you here so late.”
“It’s 9:00 PM already? I didn’t notice that.”
David shuffles his feet. “Do you mind if I walk with you to where you are going? It is dark.”
“Sure. I was going to walk home.”
“I can drive you there. My car is down there.” He points to a red car down the street.
“I normally don’t accept rides late at night from strangers, but for you, I’ll make an exception to the general rule.”
“Great! Think of this as me making up for keeping you here so late.”
“Aren’t you going to change? You might get your car dirty.”
“You’re right.” So he takes off his sweatshirt and puts it inside his backpack. He takes out a towel and carefully wipes his face clean. He places the towel in a plastic sack inside his backpack. I notice the dirty sweatshirt is in this bag also.
David drives me home and we continue our conversation. He explains why he likes exploring tunnels and he got very passionate about this. I can add another dimension to the David King persona. Odd hobby, but at least he definitely enjoys this hobby. It’s refreshing to know someone who enjoys an activity, no matter how unusual, with such intensity.
He drops me off at my house. Says a quick goodbye. I say goodbye and give him a hug. He opts to give a hug in return.
That was an unusual night. Would I want another night like that? Not really. But it was nice to see David in a different light.
*****
[January 4, 2001]
David, I mean Dave, never ceases to amaze me. And he never ceases to make me wonder if he is human or not.
There was a basketball game today and despite being winter break, students had to camp out to get tickets for the game. This is a pretty good game. Tickets are going to be at a premium. I mean, cut throat ticket market.
Did I mention that it was snowing? A really good snow storm. And it is freezing cold. And the wind is whipping the snow horizontally.
Of course, the athletic department isn’t going to let the campers freeze to death outside. The camping is done inside. If the situation can’t be made worse than it already is right now, there are a hundred people inside a cramped, hot area. It is bad. Everyone is bored.
But not Dave. Definitely not Dave. He has come prepared for this situation.
There is a wireless Internet network inside the basketball arena. People have laptops, but after three or four hours, the Internet can get boring. Dave comes up with a brilliant solution. He has his friends from the School of Engineering (how engineers and philosophers associate is beyond my comprehension) do some tweaking. They load up some laptops with multi-player games like Doom, Quake, and Starcraft. They have a massive power strip so they can connect everything to the power strip. Instant wireless gaming party.
If that wasn’t enough, they have a television and they have a Playstation with every possible game with them. Free-for-all Playstation time.
Thirsty? Hungry? Food and drink available.
Dave and his cohorts are having loads of fun when I arrive.
“Want to join in? Come on, a few frags will be fun. If not, you can always try the Playstation. Want a drink? Over there.”
“Huh? Playstation? Do you have tickets?”
“Yup. Does first row sound good to you?”
“You got first row?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of tragic though. You see, the guys in front wanted some time on the Playstation. And I let them. Hey, I wasn’t in the mood for playing. To make a long story shore, the people in the front were so engaged with the Playstation, well, they lost their place.”
“What? Wait a minute here. First row? Playstation…lost their place.”
“That’s right. Here are the tickets.”
There they were. First row tickets. Sweet.
The basketball game was great. Especially from the first row. How Dave manages to pull these things off, I am not sure.
Hmm…I wonder if he can snag some tickets for the Dave Matthews concert?
*****
[March 29, 2003]
Yesterday was my birthday. I had a whole lot of fun with my friends last night. People brought over food, drinks, and presents. But the torte…that was good, so good. And the brownies…must have a piece right now.
Dave should be a cook. I mean, considering the talent that he has, well, based upon the flourless chocolate torte he made, Dave should be a cook. It was that good. He’s talked about going to law school (which I am thinking about doing), but the cake he made…it was excellent…mmm. He also brought a batch of his special brownie recipe that he called “Insulin Shock.” Aptly named. But…oh they were great. Gooey caramel, melting chocolate, fudge-like brownies…I want one right now. Those were great also. Words cannot describe how amazingly delicious they were. I think I have the leftover torte and brownies in the fridge. Technically, they weren’t leftovers. I hid them because everybody wanted to take them home. I didn’t want to give them up. They were too good to give up. I love chocolate. Love it.
I invite Dave to my apartment for my birthday party and he agrees. He says, “I’ll bring over a flourless chocolate torte. So, how many people are coming again?”
“It’s going to be a small occasion. Maybe seven or eight people. Why?”
“Perfect! One batch only! It takes a while to make one of these.”
“Like how long?”
“Well, you have to melt chocolate and butter, mix eggs, and chill the thing overnight. But you have to be careful because this mixture is delicate.”
“You don’t have to make this, you know.”
“But I wan’t to make this. This is your birthday and a birthday should be special. It’s only one torte, you know.”
“OK.” Based upon the recipe, this thing sounds good. “Be at my apartment at around 8:00 PM. Thanks for bringing over food.”
“It’s nothing.” And with that, he walks off. And I wanted to give him a hug for being such a nice guy. Strange man.
Dave shows up at my apartment at 7:50 PM carrying two pans. I ask him what he has. Even though they are wrapped in plastic wrap and aluminum foil, I can smell the delicious scent of chocolate. I have to remind myself that I have to share some with the rest of the guests.
“This is a flourless chocolate torte.” He hands me the round pan. “Since I had some time, I decided to make some brownies. The special recipe that can be considered a controlled substance.” He hands me the rectangular pan.
So I manage not to sneak a piece of brownie from the pan. And I also manage not to inhale the entire torte. They smell good and chocolatey. Especially the brownies. Did I mention I want a brownie right now? Maybe a piece of that torte.
Oh…the story.
It’s time to serve food. Dave has the brilliant idea of serving the flourless chocolate torte. Dessert should be served before the meal and after the meal. Especially when it is chocolate.
Dave can wield a knife also. He cuts pieces and serves them. After singing “Happy Birthday” without the candles. Apparently, the thing is fragile and heat affects the taste and texture. Who needs candles when you’ve got this?
Oh. My. God. One bite and I am going into chocolate-induced ecstasy. The feeling that a chocoholic gets when they have a bite of good chocolate. The glazed eyes. The sheer look of pleasure.
Dave is amused, possibly turned on. “Was it good for you?”
I look at him and I laugh. “Yes it was.”
“If you thought that was good, try the brownies.”
“What was in that torte or whatever you call it.”
“Oh, nothing. A pound of chocolate, a pound of butter, and a dozen eggs.”
Wow. Wow. Wow. Diet be damned. I want some more.
The brownies are just as good. The same look of chocolate-induced pleasure. Caramel. Lots of chocolate. More chocolate.
I don’t think anyone else was thinking about anything but those brownies and the torte.
When the party was over, I thanked Dave for the desserts he brought. They were very good. He was modest about this. I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You just don’t kiss your friends on the lips unless you are drunk and stupid. Or you want to take the friendship to another level. I’m not at this level right now. I don’t know. Just friends right now. And I was not drunk.
Dave is such a nice guy despite his obvious weirdness. But I think the other qualities are commendable. He’s an individual.
*****
[August 17, 2004]
I just came back from Law School First Year Orientation today. The school makes it sound like such an important and informative day, but it really isn’t. I mean, it’s like any other orientation. Listen to a bunch of professors talk, have a lunch, listen to more professors, enroll in classes, end the day with some more professors talk. That is pretty much it for an orientation day. Sure, you meet new people, take a picture for an ID card, and so forth, but every orientation session is like this.
I can sum up the speeches the professors give in every orientation: “In order to do well in law school, study hard. But you have time to join clubs, have fun, expand your horizons.” To be honest, this came from Dave, a guy I know from college. We took a lot of classes together in college. We did, actually, quite a lot in college. Camped for basketball games, had a few beers at some local bars, watched movies, a whole lot of stuff. Funny guy. Really funny guy. Kind of strange, though in an oddly endearing kind of way. Sort of like the male equivalent of the lady with a houseful of cats. Not as crazy.
I’m having conflicting feelings right now. I now don’t consider Dave a friend. I think that I’ve wanted Dave to be more than a friend right now. Go figure. [Note from Editors: As an interesting cultural note, during this time, there was a popular book published called He’s Not That Into You. If AOI-101PERS had read this book and followed what had been written as advice, AOI-101PERS would have come to the conclusion that Mr. King was not that into AOI-101PERS. We have done some research and apparently, AOI-101PERS did not have this book in their possession. We also think, based upon this fact, AOI-101PERS has not read this book. If AOI-101PERS had read this work, then AOI-101PERS, unlike millions of others, did not consider this a dating Bible. We wonder if this work would have been written differently had AOI-101PERS taken the advice in this book at full value.]
What ever happens, happens. I guess it’s a situation of que sera, sera. What ever will be, will be. What ever the future hold is what will happen.
[November 26, 2004]
I visited the parent’s house for Thanksgiving. I brought along Dave. I guess that it is official right now. We are going out with each other. I guess that it becomes official when you take the boyfriend home to see the parents.
My parents loved him. They like his humble, quiet nature. My parents are a little eccentric (OK, they are very eccentric), so Dave’s um…eccentricities are endearing to them. It reminds them of their first meeting. Hey, my dad hooked up with my mom with this eternal, timeless and classic pick up line: “Hey, do you want to see my skink? It’s upstairs in my bedroom.” My mom fell for it, so I guess it worked. They got married and they had me, so it had to have worked, you know? It might also be ingrained into my DNA that I fall for guys who are a little weird. I’ve always appreciated weirdness.
My dad works as a chemist at a local chemical supply store (schools and universities), so as an employee, he gets a massive discount. There is a steady supply of chemicals down in a shed far, far away from the house. We don’t want him to blow up or burn down the house. I believe Dave impressed my dad with his knowledge of…impractical chemistry. Like how to maximize the oxidation rate of certain chemical reactions that lead to a large production of heat and gas. Yes, explosives. Did I mention my dad used to work at a fireworks factory? He used to make fireworks more sparkly and more colorful. This is going to be an interesting relationship. If I have children with him, I can imagine how he would bond with our children. Instead of fishing, father and son blow stuff up—bonding over bombs. I’m not sure how he would bond with a daughter. It’s almost Norman Rockwell material, but he had to be high on meth and mescaline to consider this. My parents approve.
[April 16, 2005]
I went out with Dave last night. It was a fun experience. He never fails to crack me up. One minute he is cool and calm, the next minute, he can’t tell the difference between his feet. One of those little quirks I find so cute about him.
My friend, J.T. Diamond, is the lead singer/lead guitarist for Super Ultra Sayonara Banzai. Great band that does every genre of music. If you can stick an electric guitar solo in the song, then they will play it. Hey, they did a pretty rocking version of a country song, so anything is possible.
They play loud and they sing loud. They also party hard while rocking. You can’t have a conversation while listening to such loud music. Dave is rocking along. He is thoroughly enjoying himself.
After a lengthy set complete with an encore, the band ends their set. I introduce Dave to the guys in the band and they get along very fine. It was like a miniature Oddly Smart People convention. I’ve never seen people talk about so many topics in an hour with such skill.
Everyone was getting tired (no surprise since it is 1:30 AM at this point), including myself. So he drops me off at my apartment and he walks me to the door. Such a gentleman, but I don’t expect any less from him. It comes naturally to him.
He says, "I had a great time with you…um…yeah." He sounds so nervous, despite going out with me for a few months. So cute and very endearing. Funny also.
I reply, "Me too. I had a great time also."
It gets awkward since he doesn’t know what to do. Again, I find this cute. He’s so smart but so clueless with certain things.
"Well, we're at your doorstep. Um…yeah…good night."
"You know, it's not a good night unless you kiss me. A silly hug or handshake will not do." I might as well guide him to what he should be doing. Just a little suggestion. He gets the suggestion. And he gets this lesson very well.
"Much better. And that was a definite good night. See you on Monday?"
The awkward stutter comes back. So funny. "Hopefully sooner."
I laughed. "I'll think about it. After I get some sleep. Good night to you." I gave him a kiss on the cheek. I think if I do any more, he might fall down the steps and hurt himself.
He turns around and makes an attempt to walk down the stairs. I think he lost some of his coordination skills. After a little while, he walks away with better coordination. You’ve got to love this.


CHAPTER NINE: AND THE WALLS START TUMBLING DOWN
“Mr. Gorbechev, tear down this wall.”
-President Ronald Reagan
“But we’re never going to survive
Unless we get a little crazy”
-Seal, “Crazy”
“To bear is to conquer our fate.”
-Thomas Campbell, On Visiting a Scene in Argyleshire
“No power or virtue of man could ever have deserved that what has been fated should not have taken place.”
-Marcellinus Ammianus, Historia (XXIII)
[Note from Editors: There is a substantial gap in the chronology of this story. Apparently, Mr. King somehow decided that he would pretend nothing was wrong. He would live his life as if the Itanimulli efforts were working. He would not keep a secret journal that was double-encrypted. He would, for as long as it was humanly possible, pretend nothing was wrong. He would pretend that he had no knowledge of this plot.
What did Mr. King do during this time? He continued his relationship with Evangeline Lauren and during their third year of law school, Mr. King decided that he wanted to continue their relationship after law school. After some planning and compromising, (well, they didn’t have to do that much planning and compromising), they decided to move to California. Mainly because of the sunny weather and the excellent job offers they received due to their stellar performance in law school. Both graduated near the top of their class. Mr. King and Ms. Lauren both received offers from the same law firm in Los Angeles, but in different departments. Mr. King focused on international trade law involving GATT, and Ms. Lauren focused on corporate acquisitions and mergers.
After their relationship passed the four year mark, Mr. King decided that Ms. Lauren was the right woman and Ms. Lauren decided that Mr. King was the right man, they decided to get married. Their marriage was a simple affair, very modest. Everyone they knew thought that this was bound to happen sooner or later, so it came as no surprise.
Currently, the date is June 6, 2009. Mr. King and Ms. Lauren, now Mrs. King, are working at Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright, LLC.]
ONE
Personal Electronic Journal of David King (Decrypted)
[Note from Editors: Mr. King’s former electronic journal was saved on his laptop and on a miniature flash storage device. His laptop sadly, contained a defective battery. Due to a design flaw of the laptop heat sink and fan, the battery overheated very quickly. Without the safety device that vented heat more effectively, the battery got so hot that it burst into flames. Once the laptop erupted into flames, everything on the hard drive was lost. The miniature flash storage device was misplaced and presumed to be lost. After some searching, we, the editors, found the missing flash storage device. Because this device has been replaced by more modern technology, we had to look at old technology journals to find technical specifications for USB ports. Once we found an expert in USB Flash technology and other obsolete technology, it became easy to transfer the data from the USB Flash memory device to more modern computers. For an excellent overview of this technology, read From USB Flash to Quantum Computing: A Look at the Evolution of Computing Technology by Nashwari Al-Hassan.
Thanks to the increased capabilities of modern technology (advanced quantum computing), it was a simple job to break the encryption scheme and to decrypt his journals. The seemingly unbreakable encryption scheme that he used was broken in a millisecond. Modern quantum computing is a technological marvel that has made research so much easier in so many ways.
The second electronic journal was just as easy to decrypt and read. We basically used the same process to decrypt this data storage device.]
*THIS LAPTOP IS PROTECTED BY SILVERFISH ENCRYPTION SOFTWARE*
IN ORDER TO PROCEED, TYPE IN YOUR NAME AND PASSWORD
NAME: DKingTwo
PASS PHRASE: The mind must always be in a state of “flowing,” for when it stops anywhere, that means the flow is interrupted and it is this interruption that is injurious to the well-being of the mind. In the case of the swordsman, it means death.
PLEASE WAIT WHILE THIS IS CONVERTED AND COMPARED TO THE PASS PHRASE STORED IN MEMORY…
QCnAi9AaaH6+XgUZGVtbN42uYdWs/eOFj4plfcnEGAAzo5KlalAAAEEALOYpLu8Qap
A9rFGReD4vaVPUA4oO5NJTo9Ps/tLjH8cBn1294/+f4CwsAqTy9o07DOGfxKiaimMiU
3dEQVmxuU2SapmZzo3SdNWMCBUCzwey90/k3RwEKmEg=DiaH6e2eOV8h9LN96K
aHertasJkSz13/08cvruY+D12qzXcPJtLe50Ov4b=KeQ2xCPikjev
[PASS PHRASE ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL VERSION 2.0]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE (ENCRYPTED):]
VsfKwri*23lksdflkjQOIUJREWkljFDSOIRWOIbvJc/=ErlkdkFDKJSwr90i3qiul98djkldw
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
June 6, 2009 06:12:57PM
I just came back from putting in an intense day at the International Trade Law division of Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright LLC, one of the premier law firms in Los Angeles, and one of the top law firms in the United States. The partners at Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright, LLC boast this law firm is one of the best law firms, bar none in the world. Sometimes I consider this bragging, but after a year working here, I have to generally agree. Evangeline agrees with this assessment also.
The partner I am connected to (like many law firms, all associates have a partner assigned to them as a kind-of mentor. The similarities to John Grisham’s The Firm has run through my mind, but thanks to Google, and some other research has led me to believe that Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright LLC is not connected to a Mafia crime syndicate family. God forbid that the FBI comes to me to be an informer in the firm and risk my life and thereby getting blown up in an unfortunate accident.
One of our clients at Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright LLC is an Australian wine producer located in the Barrossa Valley. It’s not Penfold’s, producer of some of the finest Shiraz in the world. If it were, I would have hoped as a nicely welcome thank you gift, the company would have sent a case or two of their Hermitage Grange. I’ve had a bottle once, and it was one of the best glasses of wine I have ever had. Then again, I once had dinner at a partner’s house (Keith Danworth), along with Evangeline, and this partner had a massive wine cellar. This partner was in a good mood (rumor had it a major client wired a huge check that would assure a generous six-figure bonus to the partners at the end of the year), so he decided to serve the French 1961 and 1982 wines from both Bordeaux and Burgundy. I’m not a serious wine person, but I have a basic knowledge of what is excellent wine and what is not worth drinking. From what I have read (in order to know something about wines), the vintages from 1961 and 1982 are quite possibly, the best vintage years ever. Some might add in 2000 as a particularly fine year, but not as good as 1961 and 1982. The prize wine was a 1982 Romanee Conti from Burgundy, one of the finest red wines in the world from one of the finest wine producing regions of the world. Extremely rare and extremely expensive. It was also, very delicious. He would have pulled out a 1982 La Tache, but that would have been overkill. Not that I know a law firm partner that doesn’t do overkill.
Any ways, this wine producer owns a fine parcel of land in the Barrossa Valley producing a very good, if not excellent Shiraz and some very good red wine blends. They were selling their wines mainly in Australia, New Zealand, and in some locales around the globe. One of the places was a certain country that shall be unnamed. When they tried to sell their wine in this country, they were shocked to find out that their wines would be subject to an additional 100% ad valorem tax according to the country’s recently enacted alcoholic beverage laws.
This was a simple case of a blatant violation of GATT’s Article III National Treatment rules. According to the national treatment rule of GATT, a country cannot discriminate in favor of their own country instead of another country. Basically, you can’t treat your country’s product better than another country’s like product. This issue of taxing foreign products at a higher rate than your own products has been litigated several times with the Japan Alcoholic Beverages, the South Korean Alcoholic Beverages, and the Chile Alcoholic Beverages cases.
Basically, from a GATT Article III viewpoint, you have to look at Article III:2. The first sentence of this article refers to like products, and the second sentence refers to unlike products. Basically, even though the Australian wine may not be a like product under GATT Article III and the test found in the Japan Alcoholic Beverage case, the internal tax placed on foreign alcoholic beverages (like Australian wine) was a violation of GATT. In order to make this connection, one has to start with GATT Article III:2 second sentence, and connect it to GATT Article III:1 by using Ad Article III: 2. This Ad Article is an interpretive section that basically says that unlike products can be treated the same way as “like products” if the elasticity of substitution is high enough. A person will drink a foreign beer despite having a liking for French wine if French wine is not economically viable. Foreign beer is an acceptable substitute and can be considered a “like product.”
This was a simple case to do. I had learned about this during one of my International Trade Law classes. My professor stated you had to be amazingly ignorant in international trade law if you missed this issue as it has been tried multiple times in GATT arbitration and WTO dispute settlement and the country with the internal tax has lost every single time.
The tricky part was doing the research, pulling out the cases, and putting the legal arguments in a decent written form. Obviously, it just doesn’t work as a legal document to put down something like this scrawled, let alone neatly typed and formatted on a piece of paper:

“The country of [insert country name here] is absolutely, positively wrong and
is, quite simply, amazingly ignorant of international trade law, particularly
GATT Article III. For legal support of this view, read the Japan Alcoholic
Beverages, the Korea Alcoholic Beverages, and the Chile Alcoholic Beverages
cases. If this actually makes it to the WTO Dispute Settlement Board, the
country with the tax as legislation will lose.”

Oh no. You have to couch it in much nicer and much more obtuse language that will sound like a proper and unintelligible legal brief complete with cites and quotes to cases and statutes. This is how you manage to bill a client $300 an hour for your time while you play golf and have a couple of drinks at a fancy restaurant downtown.
I think that I am having one of those déjà vu moments. Well, maybe you can’t call it a déjà vu moment, but it feels like I have seen someone before. The law firm I work at has an in-house psychiatrist and an in-house psychologist. These two doctors are on call every day. You can set an appointment or drop in unannounced at any time.
I decide to drop in to say hello, you know, see what these doctors are like. If these people don’t seem to be legit or their manner is not what I want in a doctor, I won’t go to them. I’ll go to someone else, you know. Did I get a surprise of my life when I walked into Doctor Mikhail Chernow’s office, the psychiatrist at CWCW LLC. I knock on his door and he says “Hello! Come on it!”
I think I have heard this voice before. No, I couldn’t have. It can’t be any of the partners, since I have met them all. It can’t be any of the associates, since it can’t be one of them, as they don’t have open access. I have heard this voice, but I can’t place it anywhere.
OK, so I enter the door. I sit down. The man sitting in the chair turns around. My pulse is racing faster and faster. I hate doctors and this is no exception. I see the face for the first time. And then it hits me like the proverbial ton of bricks. I have seen this person before…
While in law school, I did a tunnel expedition over at River Five Points. After that incident, I sent one of my friends over to Reliant Field Systems, the building over at Cedar Hills North Industrial Area. The odd building that all the cables led to. He took some secret videotape while visiting that place. One of the people he took a picture of, was a man who identified himself as Doctor Franklin Josephson. He was a staff psychiatrist over at that place. What are the odds this is the same person? Not that likely. There are coincidences, but twice? That’s not a coincidence, but something really fishy.
“Have I met you before? You seem shocked to see me.”
I have to think fast, but sound casual. “No, you haven’t. You just look like an old professor of mine from college. He used to teach an ethics class. When I saw your face, I thought I was seeing Professor Gottfried again.” Good recovery, I think.
“Ah, I see. What brings you here?”
“I just wanted to see the psychiatrist and the psychologist. You know, introduce myself and get to know them better. I don’t want to talk about everything with people I don’t feel comfortable with. It just seems counterproductive.”
“I see. That is a very logical thing to do. As a psychiatrist, I wouldn’t want to be open with a person I can’t trust as well. It’s the same with everything else in life.”
I have this strange feeling while sitting down. As I think about it, I was just going to stand there for a few moments and walk away. Why am I sitting down? It was like someone was telling me to sit down and talk. Tell me everything. Tell the truth. Damn. Another coincidence. Just like that time in the tunnels, but instead of the fear, it’s the truth-telling option. Must tell Evangeline to avoid the psychiatrist. But is she going to believe me? Probably not. It sounds too strange.
“Yes, the truth is important. Especially when you…when you…”
“What are you going to say?” The glint in his eyes. Must resist. He wants me to tell what I know. My gut instinct says this. Evade by telling the truth. Evade by telling the truth, but not what he wants to hear. The truth.
“Especially when you are so stressed and overworked. I’ve been trying to keep the wife happy and the boss happy. Mr. Speradino can be a brutal taskmaster. He has me working pretty long hours, but I guess that is expected with the newer associates. He’s one of the first people here and one of the last people to leave the office. Mr. Speradino would like me to work these same hours. He can be such a…such a…how do you say this nicely? Hard headed jerk? Sometimes he has unrealistic demands that rationally cannot be met unless you are inhuman or a robot. The tech people I talk to say his demands are impossible. Even the other partners agree with me. My wife, Evangeline, also works here and this can put a crimp on the personal time. Trying to juggle everything so it all works out. By the time we both leave, we’re tired. Weekends are our only time to have any time together. Yeah, we work in the same building, but it’s just not enough. As much as I love the law, I don’t think discussing corporate acquisitions and mergers over a hastily eaten lunch qualifies as legitimate personal time. Or something to bond over. I prefer a nice, quiet dinner with a glass of wine. This schedule and his demands aren’t helping. I would be at home with her right now, but he wanted, no, demanded me to be here to work on a simple yet pointless brief that could have easily been done on Monday.”
Doctor Josephson, I mean, Doctor Chernow, looks enthusiastic, but it seems fake, put on. He just doesn’t want to listen to this little domestic problem. His acting, however, seems so genuine. If he weren’t one of the They, or a sympathizer, I would have fell for it. This guy deserves an Oscar.
He gives a sigh and a nod of sympathy, as if he understands. “I feel so sorry for you. I truly can sympathize. A lot of the associates who got placed with Speradino feel this way. You know, as the psychiatrist, I talk to everyone, and I’ve talked to him so many times. He brushes it off. You seem a little different…um, what is your name again?”
“It’s David King.”
“Mr. King? The law school wunderkind? One of the top catches for this firm, along with your wife? It is nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. It was nice to meet you.”
“About your issues with Mr. Speradino. It’s common for all the associates to feel overworked when dealing with him. I suggest that you try not to worry about this. I’ll talk with him and some of the other partners about this, if it would make you feel better. Maybe you should go home and consider it a good day for you? I’m sure that it won’t do you any harm. You do look tired. In fact, I should probably go home as well. Yes, very soon. It should do you some good. Go home, have dinner with your wife, do something other than law. Life is short in the scheme of things, and you should make the most of it. Getting another five, ten billing hours is not that important. Yes?”
He is absolutely right. I do need to spend more time with Evangeline. We, especially me, have been working very hard and not spending enough time with each other. This is advice I would have taken with or without their influence. For once, They are suggesting actions that I would have taken, with or without their influence. Everything else they have suggested, that is a different story. Some actions, I would have not taken. Then again, this brings up the question of free will and what exactly is free will. And if free will exists, then it brings up the fundamental question of exactly how “free” is free will. No matter what, I have another reason to get out of that room. I also have to get out of that room to get that damn voice out of my head. Those suggestions. Those suggestions. He is one of the They that have been a part of my life. They are ruining my sanity. They are ruining my life by their actions. I now question everything that I do, wondering if I am solely making these decisions, or if, in some way, They or one of their agents of influence is steering me in a certain direction.
“You’re absolutely right…Doctor Chernow.” I exit the door and turn around. “It was nice talking to you. I hope to talk to you soon.”
“I was just doing my job. I hope to talk to you soon as well. The door is always open.”
Man, I am tired. I am very tired. I guess that trying to keep everything inside, trying to keep the secret I know a secret is driving me mentally crazy in some way. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe this experiment doesn’t exist and it is just a damn paranoid delusion. I could say it to someone, but will they believe me. Probably not. Would any rational person believe it if I told them? Some days, despite knowing this to be true, I doubt myself.
Man, I’ve spent too much time on the computer. I think I hear Evangeline asking me to come downstairs to have dinner. I put a bottle of a nice California white wine in the wine fridge. It should be nice with the dinner we are having. Well, I’ll be raising a glass to the Australian wine maker. They might want to buy some champagne to celebrate a victory. And the partners might want a bottle also, for it is likely they will be getting a big check from this wine maker.

TWO
Notes Made by Head of MCRGES
[Note from Editors: As editors, we were overjoyed to find these notes made by the Head of MCRGES about this interesting event. These notes show that the head of MCRGES played an active part in these events and not a passive role. They also demonstrate how amazingly clueless he was about Mr. King’s knowledge of the experiment.]
I met with Mr. King today at the Los Angeles branch of Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright, LLC. It is a refreshing change to be in such a cosmopolitan city than in the less civilized areas I was in. I am very glad that Mr. King and his wife, AOI-101PERS decided to move here. If they had decided to stay in the same area as the law school, I probably would have went crazy. This would have been a rare occasion for an Itanimulli to lose their sanity. Instead of Mr. King being the subject of an experiment, I would have been the subject of an experiment.
I now have the identity of Mikhail Bernikov Chernow, Ph.D. According to the well-written legend provided by the Itanimulli Scientific Council, I have a Ph.D. in abnormal behavior psychology from Georgetown University, trained in modern psychiatry from Harvard Medical School, and a long list of articles published in the Journal of American Medical Association and the American Psychology Association. Of course, this is not worth anything unless I have the correct knowledge based upon my academic credential. As an Itanimulli, my actual knowledge is far superior to any human, so this should not be much of a problem. My only problem is that I cannot be overly superior and pull up some obscure knowledge that a human would not know. It is hard to keep this knowledge inside.
At this moment, I cannot tell if Mr. King knows of the plan, and if so, how much does he know. This is the first time I cannot say anything without a near 100% certainty. If I were human, my gut instinct, assuming I have one as an Itanimulli, tells me that he knows of the plan and this is all an elaborate ruse. And yet, as an Itanimulli, I must use what logic dictates.
Logically, the syllogism is not complete. My chain of deductive reasoning is not complete. Yes, I could use inductive reasoning, but that lack a certain sense of infallibility that deductive reasoning does not lack. Of course, if I use deductive reasoning, and I use just one faulty premise, the entire chain falls apart and is not linked securely.
Given the short meeting I had with him, I think that he might know of the plan, but is hiding this knowledge very well. He has not told anyone. [Note from Editors: To use a faulty but useful analogy, if a person is accused of a crime like murder, do you think this person is going to tell people they killed someone? Do you think they are going to say, “You know what, I am guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Please toss me in jail right now!” Highly unlikely. The person is going to deny this or not say anything at all. Mr. King is not that foolish, considering that if he does tell someone, unwanted consequences could result from such a gaffe.] I find this amazing. If he has known of this plan, he has kept it in for a long time, more than I can bear.
I used a ThetaPlus Mind Modification Machine set onto a “truth telling” mode. This is not a normal setting on the ThetaPlus machines, even for specially made models. The geniuses at the technology department did this in a week! In a week! Excellent work. Yes, they did excellent work. We tried the machine on at least a hundred humans and everyone told the truth. Every single human. How the technology department managed this feat is beyond my comprehension. They deserve a large bonus for their work.
When I asked him questions, he seemed to have answered them truthfully. After all, the ThetaPlus machine was set to truth-telling mode. We did use a representative sample of people given the large variety of people we used to test this machine. It is highly unlikely that this machine is wrong. [Note from Editors: We wonder if the Itanimulli used a more representative sample of people. We wonder if the Itanimulli tried their mind manipulation machine on someone who wasn’t prone in telling the truth. Or people who weren’t so well-trained in hiding the truth. We’re pretty sure there are those on their planet which have this talent. We guess that they didn’t consider this possibility.]
His answers to my question, according to the machine, were the truth. They were very plausible and they did sound like something an overworked and over-stressed associate would say. I have talked to Mr. Speradino about his overbearing manner with the associates, and I found him to be a stubborn and thoroughly disagreeable man. I have checked both Mr. King’s and AOI-101PERS’s work records and such, and they are working 80 hours a week right now. Then again, all of the other associates are working that many hours per week. Then again, unlike most of the associates, they are married. With my research I have done, I have discovered that married people do not interact in the same manner as single people. If one or both married persons work long hours, their marriage deteriorates. Or their quality of life suffers or decreases, leading to other problems that cause a marriage to break down. Given this, I think that it might be good to find out a way to reduce their workload. At this moment, AOI-101PERS is the closest link to Mr. King right now.
AOI-101PERS, well, Evangeline King, formerly Evangeline Lauren, is our only link to Mr. King right now. He attends some social functions, but only those that involve the law firm. Other social functions are nonexistent. His wife, Evangeline, does not seem to mind. In fact, they both have come to the mutual agreement to spend all of their free time with each other. This is quite commendable, but up to a certain point. Without any other social interactions, we cannot fully judge his mental condition.
In some way, oddly enough, I can sympathize with Mr. King. This is not what I first intended when coming with this experiment. It would be so much easier to understand him, to figure out what he was doing if I understood his motives. In my capacity as Doctor Chernow, I have often though this as the only possibility. I have often thought so. I say this with a bit of venom. But, if I understood his motives, I would be part of him. That, that tiny little thing, would violate the Treaty. Yes, the Treaty. I cannot violate the Treaty.
Yes, this is so. But I think that if he is hiding his knowledge, he is like a stretched rubber band. Any more tension and he will break. Something will snap. I am sure of this, but I do not know why.
I don’t know why, but I keep thinking that someone is telling me this. It seems as if someone is telling me what to do. I can’t get this feeling out of my head. That my actions up to now have been planned in some way. Yes, I did make a plan. A plan about how to run this experiment. But on a deeper level, I feel like someone is planning out my life in some strange experiment. This is so ironic. It would be the cruelest irony to discover that someone is using me in an experiment while I am conducting this experiment using a human. What a strange twist of fate that would be…

THREE
Excerpts from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[Note from Editors: Oddly enough, the entries in AOI-101PERS’ personal journal do not have dates. We have scanned every single journal entry in AOI-101PERS’ journal, and we have not found a single date in the journal. We even had our research assistants go through the entire journal several times and they did not find a single date in this person’s journal. Not a single date at all. Not a single day at all. In addition to not being a singe date written in AOI-101PERS’ journal, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. We repeat, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. Why AOI-101PERS failed to write down any dates is beyond our comprehension.
In order to figure out what date the journal entry was made or a close approximation for it, we had to look at the journal entry and look through numerous calendars and documents to figure out the date the journal entry was made. Our research assistants were not happy at this prospect. This work, was, and still is, very boring and very tedious. They were not particularly happy while doing this work. We were not happy either. The only good thing that they found about this job was the hourly wage they were paid: $15.50 an hour. This was a dramatic increase from the usual $12.00 an hour they were paid.
We, the editors, have put in dates to make the journal entries make some kind of chronological sense. These dates are in brackets.
By now, the reader should know that AOI-101PERS is Evangeline King, the wife of Mr. King. But, for an agent of influence, she is not that involved in influencing Mr. King. She is a reluctant, if nonexistent agent of influence given her entries in her journal.]
[June 6, 2009]
I had an odd conversation with Dave during dinner. We were talking about what we did. I decided to sleep in today. When he came back, he told me about his day. Dave talked about the simple GATT question he solved in less than five minutes. It involved some dreadfully complex GATT Article that I have never heard of, let alone would ever want to see. Apparently, some country decided to enact an internal liquor tax that heavily taxed foreign liquor. This law, according to Article III of GATT violated the National Treatment rule. He says it is easy, but he is the one with the specialization in international law. It would be akin to me saying a problem in corporate mergers and acquisitions easy. He would find the simplest problem amazingly confusing.
During dinner, he mentioned that he visited the in-house psychiatrist, a Doctor Chernow. Dave mentioned that I shouldn’t see Doctor Chernow. He said that Doctor Chernow seemed like a nice guy, but Doctor Chernow just wasn’t trustworthy in Dave’s opinion. I asked him what he meant by this, to be more specific. After all, this is such a vague statement and without and evidence, this means nothing. I need some more details to make sure this statement is based upon facts. As much as I love my husband and as much as I trust his judgment, I don’t trust him totally. After all, I am an independent woman.
Dave said, “I went to say hello, and once I entered his office, I had the strangest feeling. I had this odd vibe. I’m not sure how to explain it. It was like the walls were closing in. Like I was compelled to tell the truth. Not in the good way of taking a weight off your shoulders or the pride of doing what is good, but an oppressive kind of feeling. Like a pile of bricks being piled on your chest. Like a form of coercion. But even when you tell the truth, the pressure still remains.”
I’ve never known him to feel this way before. This is strange. Very strange. I asked him what else made him feel like this.
He replied, “You know, he had this strange manner in asking questions. He would ask a question and then look at me like a wolf hunting prey. This oddly lupine look. A sly look. It was the strangest and scariest look. Never seen a look like this before.”
I gave him a dubious look. This was strange enough. Maybe he just misinterpreted his style. But he remained steadfast in his beliefs.
He gave up. “You’re probably right. Go ahead and visit him once. If you like him, then go and visit him. But I think that, in my opinion, should keep away from Doctor Chernow. That’s just my opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. A large grain of salt.”
I said, “Our dinner is getting cold and the wine is getting warm. That’s not a good combination for any meal. Let’s have dinner and not think about this for a while. Yes?” I give him a warm smile. This is a smile that will change his mood to a happier one.
He laughs. “You’re right. This pork tenderloin is delicious. What is in here?”
“It’s your recipe. I tweaked it a little bit by adding in some other spices. After dinner, how about a lazy night? Watch a movie, have some ice cream, do nothing?”
“Sounds good.”
Nothing like solving the little domestic problems that can arise. I think I will check on this odd Doctor Chernow next week when we go back to work.
[June 8, 2009]
I visited Doctor Chernow today. He is a very friendly man. I probably would visit him in the future, but it is highly unlikely. As much as I razzed him about his views of Chernow, I have to admit that Dave is correct when it comes to the oppressive atmosphere. When I walked in, it felt so oppressive in there. And I had the worst headache. Odd. I rarely get headaches unless I have too much wine or I get sick. I know I haven’t drunk too much. And I am not sick right now. So I don’t know why I had that dreadful headache while in his office.
Doctor Chernow acted funny, almost obsessively protective with something on his desk. Maybe it was a piece of sculpture. I’m not sure how to describe this object. It was a flat metal thing on his desk, like a plaque. I accidentally brushed my hand across it. It’s not like I am going to steal it or pocket it. Oh no, I was reaching for a pencil, since he had me fill out a little survey. And he started acting like I was going to take a knife to a priceless Picasso painting. He said it was very delicate and expensive. It looked like a piece of metal to me, nothing that important. Strange man. I guess that is one of the prices you pay to get a little slice of genius. I’ve known many smart people, and all of these geniuses (from artistic to pure mental genius) had some kind of quirk.
You know, given the oppressive feeling inside his office, I am not going to visit his office unless it is absolutely necessary. That seems highly unlikely.
[June 23, 2009]
I’ve been having the scariest dream while I sleep. I’m not sure what to make out of it, but when I wake up, I wake up sweating with my heart beating a million beats a minute.
The last time I had this dream, it was after me and Dave came back from a wedding. Our friends from law school, Eric Strathmore Grey and Caroline Anne Wolfe, got married during the weekend at a charming little church outside Aspen, Colorado. This church was one of those little churches you see in magazine photos. A roughly polished limestone exterior, a bluish-gray slate roof, a row of stained glass windows. And inside, the church was just as charming. Old, well-polished and well-worn oak pews with red seats. It was one of those perfect churches you would want to have a wedding in. The wedding was traditional. All of the little details that went into it were so nice. The white flowers festooning the pews were a decorative touch. The little white bows. The old light fixtures. So beautiful.
When we arrived home, we were both tired. I had to cancel a meeting with one of the more important clients. The partner in charge didn’t mind, as he would rather have his brown-nosing and totally worthless son to have a chance at dealing with clients. The partner’s son is a moron who doesn’t know anything about corporate law. He just spent a bunch of time drinking in the bars instead of hitting the books. But he did graduate (just barely and with a lot of strings being pulled by his father, who, by the way, is a major donor to the law school and a distinguished alumnus) from one of the finer law schools in the nation. I think he mentioned that is was Harvard or one of those schools.
We decide to sleep early. During the middle of the night, I have the dream. It is the scariest and most unnerving dream I have ever had. I don’t know what to make of it.
Some time during the night, I have this dream and I wake up. I am sweating. My heart is beating fast in my chest. It feels like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.
I turn around and I see that Dave is awake also. He is rubbing the side of his head. I see a red blotch on his face.
“You have a pretty good backhand. Did you play tennis, by any chance?” He continues rubbing the side of his head.
“I’m so sorry. I just had a terrible nightmare.”
“I know. I felt your hand against my face, remember?”
“Oh, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s OK.” Dave is very calm and soothing. He brushes my hair back from my face. He is very gentle. “You had a bad dream and you couldn’t stop what you did. It was an accident that couldn’t be stopped. It’s OK.”
I feel much better right now. I sometimes wonder what it would be like without him at moments like there. I am calming down by breathing a little deeper. My heartbeat is slowing down slowly. Dave is holding me tightly.
“Go to sleep. Go to sleep.” He whispers in my ear.
Before I fall asleep, I ask him, “What did I say during my dream?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. If you did say anything, I wouldn’t know.”
I don’t know why, but I feel much better. I fall asleep knowing that I am going to be safe. I hope I don’t have this dream again.

FOUR
Personal Electronic Journal of David King (Decrypted)
*THIS LAPTOP IS PROTECTED BY SILVERFISH ENCRYPTION SOFTWARE*
IN ORDER TO PROCEED, TYPE IN YOUR NAME AND PASSWORD
NAME: DKingTwo
PASS PHRASE: The mind must always be in a state of “flowing,” for when it stops anywhere, that means the flow is interrupted and it is this interruption that is injurious to the well-being of the mind. In the case of the swordsman, it means death.
PLEASE WAIT WHILE THIS IS CONVERTED AND COMPARED TO THE PASS PHRASE STORED IN MEMORY…
QCnAi9AaaH6+XgUZGVtbN42uYdWs/eOFj4plfcnEGAAzo5KlalAAAEEALOYpLu8QapA
9rFGReD4vaVPUA4oO5NJTo9Ps/tLjH8cBn1294/+f4CwsAqTy9o07DOGfxKiaimMiU3d
EQVmxuU2SapmZzo3SdNWMCBUCzwey90/k3RwEKmEg=DiaH6e2eOV8h9LN96KaHe
rtasJkSz13/08cvruY+D12qzXcPJtLe50Ov4b=KeQ2xCPikjev
[PASS PHRASE ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL VERSION 2.0]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE (ENCRYPTED):]
VsfKwri*23lksdflkjQOIUJREWkljFDSOIRWOIbvJc/=ErlkdkFDKJSwr90i3qiul98djkldw
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
June 28, 2009 12:47:02PM
For the longest time I’ve always thought that finally, I was safe from Them. That all changed when I saw one of Them at work. I know that Mr. Chernow is not Mr. Chernow, but one of Them. He is a member of “They,” the nameless, faceless foe. I always thought They were just experimenters. They would stay impartial and not get personally involved. I was wrong. Now this fight gets personal. They stepped over the line.
I have a good idea that They have my wife as an Agent of Influence. Yes, my wife is an Agent of Influence. I’m not sure what her role is, but I am sure that she is resisting. Just the fact that they have her in their snares is making me angry. It is driving me insane to think that she is a part of this experiment. Even worse, she is supposed to play a role in this experiment. I hope she continues to resist.
How do I know? From her nightmares. The dream state is where you discover the most about a person and what they are thinking. It’s as the psychologists say the gateway to the subconscious.
She suffered from a nightmare last week, I think on the 22nd. Yes, it was that day since we arrived from a mutual friend’s wedding on that day. We were both tired from the jet lag, as well as the wedding reception afterwards. I think we both had a drink too many at the reception. I know I had more than one drink too many.
What does she say? First she says, “I’m sorry Dave. I was asked to tell them information.”
Then she shudders and starts flailing. Her arms fly in all directions. I know since her hands and elbows have hit me many times. I think I have the bruises as proof. My ribs are kind of sore. Evangeline, despite her looks, is tough and she is strong in every way. One summer, we decided to go to Colorado for an extreme-sports vacation. One day, we decided do a particularly brutal hike in the Rocky Mountains. I have done this before in the Rocky Mountains and I have taken on some of the hellish sections of the Appalachian Mountain Trail. This trail in the Rocky Mountains was ten brutally tough miles over granite, chert, and other painful, ankle bruising, knee jarring, and shin cracking material. We also have done other activities like Japanese kendo, various martial arts, and white water rafting. I personally know how tough she is, pound for pound. Well, pound for pound, she can beat the living daylights out of anyone.
Then Evangeline says, “No! I am not betraying David! I’m not saying anything! I am not saying anything!”
The June 22 nightmare finally pushed me into action. As much as I can’t trust anyone, as much as I can’t believe anyone who is an Agent, I have to trust Evangeline. I can’t leave her despite this. I just can’t. I just can’t.
I calmed her down and slowly put her back to sleep. And I lied. I told her that I didn’t hear anything, and if I did, I wouldn’t care. I didn’t know what she said. I now feel awful. But it is for self-preservation purposes. God forgive me for what I have done. Forgive me what I am about to do…

FIVE
Excerpt from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[Note from Editors: Oddly enough, the entries in AOI-101PERS’ personal journal do not have dates. We have scanned every single journal entry in AOI-101PERS’ journal, and we have not found a single date in the journal. We even had our research assistants go through the entire journal several times and they did not find a single date in this person’s journal. Not a single date at all. Not a single day at all. In addition to not being a singe date written in AOI-101PERS’ journal, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. We repeat, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. Why AOI-101PERS failed to write down any dates is beyond our comprehension.
In order to figure out what date the journal entry was made or a close approximation for it, we had to look at the journal entry and look through numerous calendars and documents to figure out the date the journal entry was made. Our research assistants were not happy at this prospect. This work, was, and still is, very boring and very tedious. They were not particularly happy while doing this work. We were not happy either. The only good thing that they found about this job was the hourly wage they were paid: $15.50 an hour. This was a dramatic increase from the usual $12.00 an hour they were paid.
We, the editors, have put in dates to make the journal entries make some kind of chronological sense. These dates are in brackets.
By now, the reader should know that AOI-101PERS is Evangeline King, the wife of Mr. King. But, for an agent of influence, she is not that involved in influencing Mr. King. She is a reluctant, if nonexistent agent of influence given her entries in her journal.]
[July 2, 2009]
I am not sure what to make of the current events right now. I am not sure what to make of my life right now. I still don’t know what made Dave lose his sanity. He is now in a mental institution for some reason I do not know.
Poor Dave. He just snapped during work and started acting bizarre.
From what I have heard, at least from the people there at the incident, he just suddenly snapped.
Supposedly, Dave was inside the building talking to some people from the Accounting Department about their idiocy. Dave, earlier that day, was at Villa Della Spiga, entertaining a large contingent of executives from Bottega Rossetti, an Italian company specializing in fine leather products. The morons in accounting decided that zuppa de pescadore was a wine, and according to accounting, that was not a valid purchase, and therefore, he would not be refunded. If you know Italian, you would know that zuppa de pescadore means seafood soup. He even brought along a copy of the menu and he even had one of the executives explain this to the morons in accounting. The people would not listen. Not a valid purchase in their opinion since it “sounded” like a wine. The Italian executives were quite surprised at how amazingly recalcitrant and in their opinion, (pretty freaking stupid) the accounting people were in this law firm. The employees are not surprised, as it is well known in any business in America that the accounting people are morons, even possibly subhuman trolls. Because Dave went through so much trouble for two damn bowls of seafood soup, the Italian executives decided to go on with the deal, but at a higher price than they had originally negotiated before. Dave was happy about this, but not with the infinite legions of dumb morons in accounting.
To cool down, he decided to go outside for a minute. After a few seconds outside, Dave ran back inside, screaming. Doctor Chernow, who first met Dave, claimed that Dave said, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I HAVE PROOF! YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!”
Doctor Chernow, naturally, is shocked. “What are you talking about? Maybe you should go home and rest. You seem stressed out over something.”
Dave is angry and he says the same thing again. This is coming from Doctor Chernow. I don’t trust him at all. There is something strange about him. Dave was right about Doctor Chernow. Something about him seems odd. I don’t know what is strange about him, but it is a gut instinct I have.
Apparently, according to Doctor Chernow, Dave was talking about the rain. According to what Doctor Chernow said, Dave was talking about how it was raining; yet it was sunny over the law firm at that moment. I’m beginning to think that Dave is seriously stressed and the stress got to him. Poor dear. I think I will have to visit him more often. I think that work can wait for a while.
[July 18, 2009]
I visited Dave today. He seems well adjusted, though I find it crazy that the doctors there consider him suicidal. It is absolutely crazy. Dave does not have any suicidal tendencies.
While there, the doctor in charge of Dave, a Doctor Harrigan, handed me a metal box. It looked like one of those Chinese wooden puzzle boxes, but made out of metal. He asked me to give it to Dave. I am not sure what it is, but the Doctor said that it would be useful. Something to pass the time with.
Strange. At least Dave looks healthy. I wish they let him out soon.
[July 25, 2009]
I visited Dave today. I am going to try to visit him every Saturday. He has not made an effort to open the box I was given by Doctor Harrigan. For some reason, I feel that Doctor Harrigan is much different than any person I have ever met. He almost seems inhuman, but in a different type of way.
He reassured me that everything would be fine. I trust him for some reason.
I think that I will continue to trust Doctor Harrigan. He is a good man.
I hope Dave gets out of there soon.


CHAPTER TEN: ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
“Here is the devil-and-all to pay.”
-Cervantes, Don Quixote (bk. IV, pt. I, ch. X)
“Doubt yourself and you doubt everything you see. Judge yourself and you see judges everywhere. But if you listen to the sound of your own voice, you can rise above doubt and judgment. And you can see forever.”
-Edmund Hoyle, Twenty-four Rules for Learners (rule 12)
“Fortunately psychoanalysis is not the only way to resolve inner conflicts. Life itself still remains a very effective therapist.”
-Karen Horney
ONE
Journal of David King
[Note from Editors: While spending time at the Green Mountain Mental Health Clinic, Mr. King went through numerous physical and mental exams. All of his physical exams came up negative for any physical abnormalities inside his brain that may lead to behavior issues. His mental exams came up negative as well. Yes, his mental exams came up with personality disorders like a mildly increased peak for schizotypal personality and a higher than normal level for avoidant personality, but these are nothing to be worried about. Many fully functioning people suffer from these personality types without any problems in functioning. While at Green Mountain, all of his food was pre-cut to reduce the chance that he might commit suicide or cause physical damage to himself. This was unnecessary, as Mr. King had no intention to hurt or injure himself. He would not damage his body as long as it served him in gathering information and in investigating the truth. After a month in Green Mountain, they decided that Mr. King was not that much of a risk, so they allowed him to have a steady supply of paper and pencils. Instead of taking these papers at the end of the day, the doctor in charge of his case allowed him to keep his papers. This action would prove to be vital in proving that his theory was correct. It allowed him to escape and brought an end to the experiment.]
August 2, 2009
Here I am in a mental institution. Of course, the people call it a mental health institution; they have to make it sound so much nicer, but it is a place where they put all of the “crazy” people. All of the people who are here suffer from an abnormal mental profile. There are people who suffer from mental disorders like life-crippling, uncontrollable obsessive-compulsive disorder. And people who are suicidal. People who have delusions of being Emperor of Antarctica. The stereotypical “I am Napoleon” delusion does not, strangely enough, does not exist. I guess that the mentally unstable have some standards to meet when they have mental disorders. Cliché delusions do exist and they are assiduously avoided. Schizophrenics who enter a catatonic state and freeze into statue-like positions. It is quite an assembly. I feel like a character in One Flew Over the Cookoo’s Nest. There is no Nurse Cratchett or the lobotomy room.
I am now stuck in a box full of mentally unstable people. Just because I tell the truth. I tell the truth that some unknown group is against me, using me in an experiment. I had the evidence. Rain was falling everywhere except over the law firm. And I get put into the mental institution for my efforts. How strange fate is. Now I am diagnosed as a possible paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of persecution. It’s all psychobabble. Code words for a person who is nuts. Plain and simple. A person who has irrational ideas of the world is all against him. This is what I am suffering from. That is my problem. Yes, the world is against me. Not the entire world, but an unknown group. In my world, that is enough.
August 3, 2009
I’m surprised that the mental institution is allowing me to use a pencil. They won’t let me use a knife of any kind, for fear of me trying to kill myself. Haven’t they considered the possibility that I would take this pencil and shove it into my eye socket? Sure, this would be a very hard way to kill myself, but if I am that suicidal and that determined, anything is possible. Then again, why would I try to kill myself? I want to prove this conspiracy exists. I’m not going to kill myself.
I finally solved the little puzzle box Evangeline gave me on July 18th. I think it was July 18. At least it was what the calendar that hangs on the wall says. The attendant changes it every day. And Evangeline said that it was July 18. I guess I have to trust them.
Solving it was fiendishly hard. I had to press and push and do all of these complex manipulations. At first, I left it sitting on my desk, but after a week or so, I started to make an effort to solve it.
Once I solved the puzzle, guess what I found. It was a metal card. When I ran my finger over it, I had the oddest feeling. It felt like an electrical charge went through my head and I felt this burst of mental clarity. I was beginning to understand everything. [Note from Editors: We have no idea of what this metal card was, but if we were to use an analogy, it would be akin to the Itanimulli ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine. This metal device, however, seems to be much more advanced than the ThetaPlus, much more advanced than the ThetaPlus. Now we are left with several questions. One, is Doctor Harrigan who he claims to be? Two, what role is he playing? Is he here to help Mr. King or hinder Mr. King?] If I were a betting man, I would think the odds are good that this is a mind manipulation machine of some sort.
Now, if I can only figure out a way to control this device. I might have to ask Dr. Hannigan about what he knows…
August 4, 2009
I thanked Doctor Harrigan for the puzzle box. I also handed him the metal thing inside. He was impressed that I managed to open the box.
“As you may know, I like to solve puzzles of all types. Crosswords, riddles, anything. You can consider life to be like a puzzle. A lot more complex, but a puzzle none the less.”
“Hmm…yes, that is an interesting simile.” He rubs his chin. Then he takes the metal thing and rubs him fingers on it. I’m not sure what he is doing, but I’m thinking he is programming the thing in some kind of way. “Oh, by the way, here you go.”
He hands me the metal thing. What am I supposed to do with this? I try to hand it back.
“Oh no. This is a gift. One that you will need later. Think about this. The ancient Chinese considered metal one of the five elements. In order to fly into the air, you must ground yourself. Once you do that, let your mind flow like water. Only then, you can spark a fire. Doubt yourself and you cannot do anything. Free yourself, and you will see forever. You will rise above everything. The mind is the strongest thing in the world.”
Huh? What the hell is he talking about? If I am crazy, I would like the doctor to make some sense. At least my time here will be useful.
“I see confusion. Hold the metal piece in your hand and you will figure everything out.”
And with that, he left.
[August 8. 2009]
Evangeline came to visit today. I am wondering why she still comes here to visit me. I guess that she loves me. Wait, I know she loves me. That is why we married.
I told her about the odd statement that the Doctor told me earlier in the week. She thought about the statement for a while and she came up with an answer.
“The metal thing is the key to solving your problem.”
“What?”
“It’s obvious. This thing you have in your hand”—she points to the metal thing—“is a mind manipulation machine of some sort. I am sounding crazy, but I know I am not. If you interpret his statements, he is telling you in order to get yourself out of this mess, you must hold the metal card in your hand and think about freedom. Once you do that, you will get the solution you want.”
I look at her funny. Then she gives me the look. I decide to listen to her.
I hold the metal card in my hand and think about freedom. Instantly, I feel the course of energy flow through my body. This is a brilliant machine. It operates on thoughts.
Yes, I now know how to escape this mess. I will use this machine to expose Chernow as one of Them. Yes, this will work. The information was in here all along. Now I wonder who exactly is Doctor Hannigan and how much does he know. I guess I will never know. Probably a medical secret.