The Health Report - The Insider

Epilogue - Kelly Mahan Jaramillo Explains

2010-09-08T15:29:00.000-07:00

Well, it is only me here now. The cabin is empty, the WME has been empty for years - I occasionally come by and sweep, dust, clear out a few cobwebs, shred the occasional old file I might find, yelllowed and curling at the corners.

I was in charge of Peter's attempt at keeping this journal of the future, and he did an okay job, I think - but in going through some of his writings here, I read that he let his emotions concerning certain subjects get the better of him. Considering that many of his best friends had undergone changes that rendered them unrecognizable, others disappeared, some died, and some showed up briefly, I can hardly blame him.

However, he wrote one entry that I feel was not necessary - he did not stop and think about what he was doing - he got pushed too far by certain parties, and he lashed out. I am responsible for him, and I should have stopped it. In publishing certain details, he let loose some very personal information about myself and others, and frankly, I am embarrassed. To let old grievances air out in public after so many years constitutes a loss of ones dignity - it does not matter how much one feels justified. To anyone whom that now deleted post caused hurt, I am terribly sorry. We all pretended everything was okay for much too long, and I can only speak for myself/Peter - we never fully addressed the depth of the pain that was caused so long ago.

However, at this point in time, those issues need to be taken up with a professional in private. Peter and Jordan are dead, and I am the only one left to pick up the pieces of who they might have been.

It is time for me to stop coming by here, stop sweeping the pain and dusting the resentment, stop reading the files and stop wondering what the children would have been like. My life was not meant to go that way, and I believe it is time to do one last scrubbing of the place, then lock it up and toss the key. I would get rid of the whole building, but sometimes people like to come by and read about the UCLA study or Julianne, so why not leave it up for them? Besides, it represents a time that I would like to preserve, but not so much for myself anymore. There is still so much life ahead! Yes, a lot has burned to the ground, and I have to be careful picking around the smoldering landscape, but here and there I see shoots of green out of the blackened tree trunks, and I have hope.

To the folks who have enjoyed this bizarre story, thank you for reading. To the people for whom it got personal, please accept my apologies for the lashing out. It was never premeditated, and if I could roll the clock back three years and never have written it, I would do so.

There is only one road these days, and it only goes forward. I wish you all a safe journey.

Kelly Mahan Jaramillo

Goodbye

2008-03-21T14:52:00.000-07:00

"It is over, isn't it?" I asked Jordan.

"Yes, Peter, it is over."

"So, what now?"

"We can do it fast, and run through the rigged fence, or slow. No water for three days. Your call."

"Happy Spring, Jordy."

He smiled and nodded.

"Happy Spring to you, Peter."

We walked out to the fence.

Thank you and love always to you,

William Allen Mahan, a.k.a.,

"Wild Bill."

Jordan Does it Again

2007-12-08T19:33:00.000-08:00

While I have been so moody that, had I still been at work, the WME would have shoved me full of every medication known to man for bi-polar disorder, Jordan has been incredibly focused, and has figured out a way to rig up enough power in this cabin to get an old laptop up and running, and now he is the one furiously typing away.

I asked him what he was doing, although I was a bit listless. We both fired up a cigarette from an old carton we found in the woods. They were not even stale. Jordan is convinced that Scott Grusin is leaving things for us to find - the carton of cigarettes was amazing, but we have found bottled water, beef jerky, all kinds of odds and ends, all pushing our survival rate up a few more days at a time.

I do not want to admit that it might be him, but there is no other explanation, and Jordan is usually right.

"I am getting into different areas of the Internet, writing about different topics, hoping that someone will find us before the government does," he answered, not looking up.

"Oh," I pondered this for a minute.

"But the government is already everywhere, Jordy. Won't this lead them straight to us?"

"Might. Could. Probably. But from what I am reading, if we can hang tough for another year, something might change. Maybe for the better. I am researching. Besides, I have rigged the place and we have a safe-house. We also have some help."

"What? Who?" I was stunned. Jordan and I did not keep secrets from each other.

"I'll tell you soon, Peter," he answered, leaning back in the chair.

For the first time since my funk, I noticed Jordan had dark, dark circles under his eyes.

"Soon," he repeated, rubbing his temples.

"Um," I looked at his links. "Who was that Tomas Hrádcky guy, that music that had you so upset when you went into the WME basement, I don't know, a year or so ago?"

Jordan stared into nothingness for a few minutes. He looked like he was about to cry, but was just out of water.

"Me." he answered, still staring.

Jordan and I Finally Talk

2007-11-14T18:05:00.000-08:00

It has been a couple of weeks since the Scott incident, and I have been surly and moody, worse than usual. Jordan was keeping his distance, wary, waiting for me to grapple with whatever had possessed me concerning the twenty five year old Scott and Carson drama.

Today we were both in our own worlds, it was pretty quiet.

"Peter," Jordan asked, "I am going to make some tea. Want some?"

"Sure," I answered, even though I really did not. But we needed to talk, and a beverage offering is always a good neutral start.

I followed Jordan into the cabin's 'kitchen', a small wooden lean-to with a mini fridge, sink, and hot plate. It was not the Ritz, but it was not the basement of the WME. We still could not believe that we weren't slaves to the government anymore. Talk about a "What Next" feeling - the United States had become a continent where you either worked for the government or you were in the civilian service industry, working at a Starbucks, Jamba Juice, or Pottery Barn. Any silly chain that kept people neck deep in shiny objects. Anyone that wanted to be an actor or writer or musician was screwed. They were getting tagged as terrorists, anarchists, or insane and locked up in psych wards. I felt the sigh before it even came out.

"You sigh a lot, Peter," Jordan remarked.

"I know," I accepted my cup of tea and leaned against the wall. "Jordan, listen. I am feeling so shitty about going off on Scott - it would have been nice to have him stick around, fill us in on how he is getting around under the radar, and managing to play music without getting caught - pretty amazing, really....." I trailed off.

"Yes, it would have been nice," Jordan turned and faced me head on. "He seemed like a decent guy who made a mistake about fifty lifetimes ago, and I just do not understand why you blew your stack at him."

"I think....I don't know, I think seeing him made me want to start over, fix all of my own mistakes, something. He was like a giant neon sign from the past, and all I could grab onto was anger. I want my old life back, I want to see Callie, I want to see a lot of people, I just want to start over, and I sound like a fucking five year old." I sighed again, not noticing that this time tears were running unchecked down my face.

"I know." Jordan answered quietly.

"I would even take going back to the WME! I want Julianne, Luka, Allen, all of them! Our friends! We do not know what has happened to our friends! I just do not know how much longer I can go on. It seems pretty hopeless, and I went on a tirade at Scott. I should have been happy to see him, there was an old friend from the very past I have been mourning, and I kicked him around like a bad dog. I feel like such an asshole." I rubbed my temples, the beginnings of a headache tickling the inner lining of my forehead.

"I am sick of hearing myself say what are we going to do?! What are we going to do?! I need to do something, I cannot sit here with you and wait and wonder and jump in fear every time I hear a noise. I am going insane."

Jordan nodded.

"Did you know that Juli was Julianne Phillips?" I made a sound that I think was a laugh. I don't know, it has been too long.

"I had an idea," Jordan answered, "I think you did, too."

"Yeah....I think I did," I smiled, tired. "Did you know that we kissed?"

Jordan nodded, a little grin on his face. "I was pretty sure. How was it?"

I put my arms around him.

"Nothing like you," I whispered into his neck.

Our tea sat there, getting cold.

The Articles From Scott

2007-10-27T21:29:00.000-07:00

Jordan and I looked down at what Scott had handed us.

You had to give the guy points for optimism.

Scott Grusin explains

2007-10-24T11:31:00.000-07:00

At the discretion of the author, this post has been removed, Sept 5, 2010.

A scare in the woods

2007-10-04T15:30:00.000-07:00

Jordan and I were sitting, staring, saying nothing. Jeffery never showed up with the new place, and it was just the two of us. I guess one really does wind up where they started.

I feared I was losing my mind, because in the distance I could hear music. I didn't want to say anything to Jordan, if he did not hear it, well....

It got closer, though, and finally it was practically at the door. We were frozen. Had the WME finally found us? Jordan peeked through the bottom of a low window to the right of the door.

"He is small, with a backpack, tangled hair, playing some kind of strange guitar. If this is a disguise from the WME, they did it very well, and we know they don't have that kind of imagination, " he commented, unconsciously twisting his thumb ring.

The person knocked on the door and I nearly lost all bodily functions.

"Hello? Is anybody in there? I just need a glass of water, if it would be no bother, sorry, sorry. My name is Scott Grusin, I hope I am not interrupting anything, sorry, if I am sorry, I'll leave."

We looked at each other. Unless he had a weapon, we could take this guy down easily. Even if he did, we probably could.

Besides, that name sounded familiar.

She is gone, gone, gone

2007-09-08T21:30:00.000-07:00

Juli left us. When she told us she was Julianne Phillips, THE Julianne Phillips, dads name Bill, Mom's name Anne, grew up in Lake Oswego, she broke down and cried.

""Listen guys, there is the press, there are a million flashbulbs in your face, but compared to what we are dealing with, that is like a tse-tse fly. Do you get it?" I am now a liability, and I have a place to hide. You do not."

But Juli, we need you - -" I tried to speak.

"Peter!" she was practically spitting.

"When the two of you are really ready to go underground.....welll..here." she passed me a piece of paper.

"Oh FUCK I am tired of notes" Jordan yelled.

Jordan never yelled.

He turned in circles around the room. Around and around and around and around,

"I AM TIRED" he screamed.

It never occured to us that Jordan, the self assured calm one, would need help.

I am confused

2007-08-23T17:44:00.000-07:00

"Wait!" - "Frannie's note says that Luka, Renee , Jeffery and RayMan ran into HER! They didn't find Frannie, did they?"

Sometimes I feel so stupid that I still have hope.

Julianne spoke.

"Peter, you know you have always wondered about my name. It is Julianne Phillips. I used to be married to a rock and roll guy named Bruce Springsteen. You, despite your questions, have always known that, right?"

I nodded.

"So you know they did not run into Frannie G. right?"

I nodded again, feeling foolish that I had doubted my friends, even for a moment.

"Then you know that who they ran into was....."Julianne tok a deep breathe, "Mrs. - - -

"Yes," I shouted, "yes yes I know who they ran into, and you know she does not kill anyone mercifully - I just couldn't think about it, I just can't - - "

"Peter, don't worry - we are not going to get out of this alive, but that son-of-a-nother is not going to be the one. Okay?"

Juli took a deep breath.

"And to think when I was young, I thought things could not get any worse," she sighed.

And she had been hurt harder than either Jordan or myself had.

We quietly started packing.

The waiting is over

2007-08-23T16:48:00.000-07:00

Luka, RayMan, Jeffery and Renee never came back. It has been three months and two days, and not a word. Jordan, Julianne and I are just staring at each other, each day filled with hope. I clean the cabin with an obsession that no diagnosis can claim, Julianne watches every news channel she can find, and Jordan writes in his notebook. Writes and writes and writes.

At night we curl up on the little futon bed, synchronizing our breathing.

On August 17th, I flipped out, screaming, sad, furious.

"I want to go back" I was half laughing, half crying. "I know I hated it, but it was familiar, even if it was eroding any sense of what I was, who I am, whatever. I want to go back!'

"Peter" Jordan said in that calm voice that was sometimes so infuriating that I wondered how many Oxy he had stolen from the WME before we had left.

That was mean. Jordan has always been calm.

"I have a note from Frannie G., before she left," he said, holding out a tired scrap of paper.

"You talked to Frannie!" I yelled, "You talked to Frannie and did not tell me!"

"You still had hope, I did not want you to lose it."

He held it out.

It read,

"Beware the woman who cannot tie her own shoelaces, cannot find water as she stands in front of the river, has only tissues in her pockets. Beware."

"They ran into her", Jordan's eyes, Julianne turning away from the news, nodding slowly.

"Then we have to pack up and leave, right?"

"Yes." They spoke in tandem, and reluctantly I reached for my black pen.

End of Days

2007-05-21T13:54:00.000-07:00

It is strange to be out of the WME. We all thought we would be crazy-happy, delirious with joy, drunk on freedom. But everyone is subdued, even the woodsy beauty of our hideout can only occasionally pull out a smile, and even then the mood is tinged with melancholy. We have electricity, and RayMan managed to get us a television, so we are getting to see the news for the first time in years. But the news isn't telling the real story, it is as if we are not in a war at all - honestly, we had more of what was really going on when we were working. I think we are stunned that the public seems rabid for poor dead Anna Nicole Smith, or that silly Paris Hilton, the news is just like a tabloid MTV video.

Luka went with Jeffery and Renee today to meet with RayMan - he has some government documents that, if they are found in his possession, he will vanish like a rabbit in a hat. A lot of it is information about what the government has already done and what we have been told about it - Paul Wellstone and his wife dying in the tragic plane crash, for example. RayMan has the documents of how the plane was tampered with and by whom. Peter Jennings dying of lung cancer.....you get the picture. But RayMan also has current documents, specifically about Barack Obama and Dr. Ron Paul, and the plans they have for them.

Remember, we did not all go voluntarily to work for the WME - our group had simply participated in one of the many double-blind studies that are advertised in employment wanted ads everywhere, and we all woke up in new apartments, working in the bowels of the WME. When Jordan and I went to the double-blind study, it was 1997, we lived together in a house in Los Angeles, and Clinton was president. The first few years down in the WME basement, Jordan and I were alone, trying to figure out how to escape, then when we slowly found the others who had been kidnapped in this way - Luka, Julianne, Anna and Sam, Renee - then later RayMan, then Allen, well - we really did not realize we had been gone almost ten years. We are shell-shocked by what has happened to the United States, we really thought the free people would know what was going on, there would be non-stop serious news and fighting in the streets. The apathy of so many people, the blatent disregard the government has for the law, and the handful of people who are screaming at the top of their lungs that this administration is killing America, well, the only people that listen are the people who already know. But Rayman pointed out that people are starting to wake up, he gave many examples, but it still feels like we are hurtling towards a massive explosion both literally and figuratively.

I am so aware of my heart beating, I can hear it in my ears, I can hear the little twitter of the birds harmonizing with the low note of tension that is in the air we breathe. I feel like a crystal wineglass, ready to be lifted in a joyous toast or shattered in a million pieces from the tap of a fork.

And I wait for another day to go by.

we are out

2007-04-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

Good Lord, operations take time.

Anna and Sam are walking now, but they seem very old.

All of us are out of the WME, living with Jeffery Conway in a dilapidated attic, I cannot disclose where.

He is hiding us, but today, he came home from work, convinced he had been followed.

Jordan pelted him with questions, while I made him a drink.

Julianne, Renee, and Luka sat quietly.

Finally Jeffrey answered.

" They wanted to know if Julianne's last name was 'Phillips'"

Juli shook her head.

"No, no, once my name was Smith, then..........she paused, "let's leave it at Smith, ok?"

Everyone nodded, no questions asked. There would be plenty of that later.

A few of us have gone

2007-01-14T20:04:00.000-08:00

Sorry I have not written since after Election Day - events have taken a turn that we had not planned on, and we have been able to implement some of the more worrisome aspects of our escape sooner and with much more ease than we originally though. Sam and Anna are gone, but they are safe. Jordan, Julianne, Renee and I managed to get them to Jorden's hidden place in the woods, where Allen was waiting. Allen, as it turns out, had a plan in place, long before we got to know him. A bunch of information has been revealed, and I don't want to take up too much time, but here is the lowdown as of January 14th, 2007.

A qualified human being is fixing Anna and Sam in the cabin. They are going to be okay. Rayman is next, he is sitting with his hidden copy of Jeffery Conway's "Phoebe 2002", there will be a message sent to him from Jeffrey within the next few days, it will be a page from the book. That is all we know at this point. The White House is so insane with the results of the Election that we could almost file out of here right under their noses, but Jordan is insisting on the utmost caution. However, I will be back here again in the next few days to keep you updated on our progress. Our reliable news source, DeadBrain, is dimming the lights for the month of January and possibly a bit into February, but it is to divert attention from our escape and help us find our way out of here.

DeadBrain, we salute you! We will all meet up again soon!

Don't let them fool you

2006-11-20T15:32:00.000-08:00

I know they look sad. Don't believe it, it's gonna get ugly. I still can't believe Rumsfeld was the candy lady. Now that he is gone, we have been waiting for our "early retirement". Or to get fired. Or laid off. We are waiting for things to change, as all of this was supposedly Rumsfeld's fault. I am starting to have the sinking feeling that his resignation is a smokescreen, some kind of public placebo that had been in play for months. I don't know. All I know is...........don't feel like we won. Don't think things are going to get better. Be very, very careful. All of us down here are, and you guys up there should, too.

ELECTION DAY 2006

2006-11-08T10:30:00.000-08:00

Please excuse the lack of enthusiasm. We get the memo to vote today - the Whitecoats still think that we are so addled from so many years down here that we don't know what day it is. They are very good at it, giving us two day old papers and whatnot, but since we started our escape plan, we have our own counter-system in place. It is long and complicated, and the details are not necessary right now, but I wanted to let you know that although it has been much more than a week since I have been seen here, I have not been taken away for good - it is just that the plan is getting very time consuming and sensitive.

But yes, we did vote, and yes, we are aware that it is looking extremely good for things to start changing.

Although this morning we were given a morning paper with totally false information - that the Republicans had swept the House and Senate, all of the governors in every state were Republican, that the Democratic Party no longer existed.......it was pretty funny, and hard to keep a straight face and act like we believe it.

This election helps our plans - but we MUST get the Senate in order to GET OUT.

"V for Vendetta" helped.

Jordan got a hold of a copy, nearly risking his life.

President Bush has Dementia? Rubbish!

2006-10-09T16:03:00.000-07:00

He's stoned ALL THE TIME! I wish we could get to the press-we could dispel every rumor about stupidity, alcoholism, autism, dyslexia, all of the stuff that people have written articles and BOOKS about, for god's sake!

The guy is high as a kite, 24/7. Now that we know it is Rumsfeld in drag filling our candy dishes with various mild painkillers, we also know that Rummy is pouring serious shit down Bush's throat - Perc's, Oxy, a wild cocktail of Soma and morphine tablets. The guy is so stoned it is amazing he doesn't just keel over. Just look at those pictures. One cannot look this ridiculous in public and not know people are laughing at you unless you are 100% splattered on drugs.

He's Everywhere! RUMSFELD IS EVERYWHERE!!

2006-09-14T11:11:00.000-07:00

It's all getting to be too much, just TOO MUCH! First, the Utah speech. It's got the public totally up in arms, as they should be. Then Rumsfeld holds a press conference with Dr. Eudaimonia about Americans working longer hours than the Japanese, and he is so crass that even Dr. Eudaimonia almost faints. We are just starting to get bits and pieces of information about the question that begs to be answered - why does Rumsfeld always make speeches with Eudaimonia at his side?

Last night, the unthinkable was revealed.

There is a lovely older woman who doesn't say a word, her job down here is to restock all of the available medications that fill the candy dishes in the coffee room, the bathrooms, and the lazy susan that is on a table over by the row of file cases. I mean, there are candy dishes everywhere, and they need refilling at LEAST once a day. No one ever really notices her, we just see her making her rounds, filling each dish up, kind of like an "office call" pharmacist or something. She is very pleasant, quiet, smiling and nodding at everyone, plus she is extremely efficient - in and out before you can really register her presence.

Well, at our own meeting last week, Allen showed us a picture - he's had suspicions for months, and started quietly trailing her - that is when he disappeared for weeks. He has come back with so much information we can only relay it in fragments, so sorry. Be patient.

He trailed the candy dish lady out of our area and slipped into a "Senior Residents Only" door, where a meeting was about to start. He dodged into a closet just seconds before whitecoats started filing in, a loud argument began, and, peeking out, he caught sweet old pharmacy lady and Dr. Eudaimonia shouting at each other. Look closely at the picture above. Once you see who it is, you might understand why we are all having our stroke in installments around here.

It's Donald Rumsfeld? In UTAH?

2006-08-31T12:56:00.000-07:00

RayMan just handed me a file, and his index finger was holding it open in the middle. I took it without looking at him, sticking my finger on the same spot as his. As he walked back towards the filing cabinets, I casually opened the file up, my head bent studiously down, a proper worker drone.

The note was in code, saying when and where we were all meeting, and that Allen was going to be with us. It also included a newspaper clipping about Secretary of Donald Rumsfeld's speech in Salt Lake City, Utah. In the upper right corner, in Rayman's tiny, precise script, were the words 'bring this along'.

The note also instructed me to direct whom ever might be reading this to the link at the right of this page:

www.KickRumsfeldOut.com

So, go to that link, and when I get back I will report on dinner and Allen and what is really going on here as soon as I am able.

I did the surreptitious glance and hastily shoved the Rumsfeld newspaper clipping into my back pocket.

British Chocolate Contaminated

2006-08-18T13:35:00.000-07:00

Thank heavens the WME got all caught up in that Cadbury Chocolate nonsense. The testing involved eating chocolate, no drugs, so I had plenty of time to think about Allen and what he had given Franny without my brain or body parts being tampered with.

I remembered Franny, after Allen had handed something that she put into her pocket, furiously writing on a notepad, which she then had stuck into her purse - a gorgeous Gucci bag, I might add.

Then when Allen came round the next week, Franny pulled the notepad out of her bag and gave it to him when he handed her the weekly memo. I remember thinking it was odd, as Allen really never received anything from us besides certain files, never a small notebook, and nothing handwritten, just the usual bunch of pharmaceutical form crap that can put you to sleep if you are not careful.

But really, it was a passing thought - I was still so star struck that Franny G. of The Department of Homeland Homes and Gardens was sitting right in front of me that I was focusing on other details - shirt fabric, shoes, the fine porcelain skin, not a hair out of place.

But since she escaped, it is vital that we ALL remember the paperwork exchanges. Everyone saw her, at one point or another, exchange something with Allen In fact, Luka told me that Allen's wife..........oh dear GOD, here comes Dr. Eudaimonia. I gotta run.

Franny's last words

2006-07-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

Jordan came back about an hour ago.

"Peter," he began, without preamble, "do you remember Franny saying anything about Allen?"

"No," I answered, running through the few conversations we had enjoyed with Franny before she escaped.

"Think," Jordan urged, "think hard Peter."

I racked my brain.

"I'm sorry, Jordan, but she never mentioned Allen that I can remember," I said, frustrated that Jordan wanted something I so clearly did not have.

"But there is one thing I do remember....." I trailed off, not sure if it mattered.

The air seemed to get very still around us as I remembered Franny's first day down here, and how I was covertly watching her.

I remembered Allen making his usual rounds with the memo's, but when he stopped at her desk, he had put a memo on her desk, then lingered. I had only caught her putting something in her pocket.....

"Did Allen give it to her?"

I shut my eyes, trying to slow the memory frame-by-frame.

"ATTENTION!" the crackle of the loudspeaker shattered my thoughts.

"TOMORROW AT FOUR O CLOCK THERE WILL BE A NEW MEDICATION TESTING. PLEASE FILL OUT FORM 366B AND HAND IT IN BY THE END OF THE DAY. THANK YOU."

"Peter, " Jordan whispered, "you have to remember everything you can before tomorrow at four."

I nodded, my scalp tingling.

What did they do to Allen?

2006-07-16T18:24:00.000-07:00

I can not believe it! Allen is back, although to be honest, he looks a little wiped out. I said hi and asked him how he was, and he didn't look up, just muttered something.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

Allen acted like he didn't hear me, just set down a memo, muttering unintelligibly.

It sounded like the same word, or maybe words, over and over.

The diary?

Diaries?

Running diary?

I looked over at Jordan, lifting an eye. He shook his head, watching Allen move down the row.

"I gotta go talk to Luka," Jordan pushed back his chair. I sat there, completely flummoxed.

No one has ever been gone this long, then returned, but what did they do to him? This was creepy, even for here.

Where did everybody go?

2006-07-04T20:14:00.000-07:00

For the last week or so, it has really felt strange around here. We are very used to seeing the same faces doing the same things, writing memo's every Tuesday, handing them to Allen, the editor, who checks everything, then sends it out on Thursday. Last Tuesday we were worried, because we were not finished with the pile of work to be done, and were not ready with them, but he never showed up. At the time we were relieved, but then this Tuesday he didn't show up again. We thought he was out sick, but no one has come around in his place. In fact, there seems to be no new information concerning anything at all, since sometime around mid-June. It's weird. Somehow it feels slightly deserted, and not just in our department.

Maybe we don't need to plan our escape at all. Maybe we're all going to get fired.

But nobody gets fired here. They just.......disappear. Like Allen.

I'm nervous. Very nervous.

The Things That Go On In The "Real World"

2006-06-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

You know, we are pretty sequestered down here, there is so much work to be done, sometimes it resembles working at a post office - you're just never finished. When we get a chance to go home, we just crash out, maybe catch a little bit of the Late Late show with Craig Ferguson, if we're lucky.

But, The higher-ups are always walking in with the papers, news, National Enquirers, and they usually make their way down here, although by then it is weeks old.

But this last month has been dominated by Blonds and Babies!

Heather Mills McCartney goes nuts, and Ann Coulter is a shape-shifter, according to DeadBrain, US.

Denise Richards, Richie Sambora, Charlie Sheen, David Spade, and Heather Locklear, WOW! Where to start?

Britany Spears defends herself to Matt Lauer - at least she didn't call him names.

Jennifer Aniston still can't make a move without flashbulbs going off in her face, then some completely fabricated story made up to match her expression, good god.

And the Pitt-Jolie birth - you'd be hard pressed not to think it was the Second Coming what with all of the news coverage.

And Brooke and Katie give birth on the same day at the same hospital - I'm SURE Brooke and Tom were all geared up to argue during labor pains.

Sometimes, I don't want to escape from here. Sometimes, compared to out there, it actually feels sane down here.

How scary is THAT?

UCLA Marijuana Study

2006-06-09T20:15:00.000-07:00

Well, guess what? Dr Hiyam Heigh got it all wrong as usual. That's him, smoking away. The black stripe over his eyes really helps his anonymity around here, generally he is not wearing that. But sometimes he is. And those pretty plants around his house are not ferns. It is not that the man is stoned, he''s NUTS! But pretty much everyone around here is, so it's no big deal, except when he blasts off some crazy article. It doesn't happen very often, and when it does, he is usually not seen for months.
Even the spinning liars here at the WME have a wild card or two in the closet.

Homosexuals and Medications

2006-05-27T19:13:00.000-07:00

Oh yes, the testing. There was NO testing at this facility on homosexuals, none. The WME took the fifty million and gave themselves a real nice pay raise, plus upped the retirement package. Then they came out with a totally phony "test" results that would make the fundamentalist Christians and the administration happy. Plus, they wrote that they used cocaine and heroin in the "testing" so you KNOW those guys were partying every weekend since the money came in.

But did WE get a raise? No.

The day we have our escape plan ready to execute, I want to strap Eudaimonia and his team down and pump them full of some of the real nasty shit, then leave them there for the janitor to find.

It's dreams like this that keep me alive.

Xanax Be Goooooood

2006-05-17T21:53:00.000-07:00

"I am just protecting my children, I am busy raising my children, it is all about the happiness and safety of MY CHILDREN!!!!!"

Sunday

2006-05-07T15:55:00.000-07:00

Jordan and I were over at his place, relaxing on the couches, reading. I am in the middle of a fun murder mystery novel, and Jordan was chewing up the latest "Vanity Fair".

It was very peaceful.

Then there was a loud knock at the door, and we both nearly fell off the couch.

"Who is it?" Jordan's voice is much deeper than you would think from looking at him.

"Luka," came the answer, almost as deep but with an accent.

We didn't realize how tense we were until we both sagged with relief. We grinned at each other.

Jordan opened the door, still smiling, but we were both taken aback by the sight of Luka, who was out of breath and clearly stressed. He is usually so stoic in that Eastern European way of his, whatever had him this visibly distressed couldn't be good.

"Luka," Jordan was saying, "come in, you look like hell, what is wrong?"

He held out a folded sheet of paper.

"This just came. I printed it out and got here as fast as I could." He quickly walked by us and practically collapsed on the couch, a trickle of sweat coursing down the side of his face.

I stood closer to Jordan as he opened it up and we both read it. Twice.

Jordan folded it back up and the three of us stared at each other. Our peaceful Sunday had just taken a rather weird and decidedly unpleasant turn.

Americans Are Undermedicated, My Ass!

2006-04-26T18:54:00.000-07:00

I just read the memo, and guess who they are going to be testing the new Lunesta strength on? And the testosterone on? Yeah, it's going to be a long couple of weeks down here.

To top it off, they are going to be testing them on us at the same time.

So half of us are going to be wild-eyed and aggressive, and the other half are going to be asleep.

Plus, they are cutting our over time. Guess they don't want to pay for all those sleeping hours. There's no guarantee that we will wake right up from the drugs at five o'clock and drive on outta here, so after five we are sleeping on our own time.

I hate it here. I hope I never wake up.

But what if I get the testosterone?

Hmmmm...........

The Health Report: President Bush - Proof that Cloning is Dangerous. Really!

2006-04-13T19:50:00.000-07:00

Today in DeadBrain's Health section, The White House and the WME finally admitted that they have been cloning President Bush for years. Of course, this is not news to us, because the report was accurate except for one small issue - Cheney NEVER shoots the clones! Never! He's just using it to make his whole "I shot Harry by mistake" story sound plausible.

When it started, the job always fell to one of the secretaries. First it was Chertoff, but he started enjoying it WAY too much, and he actually shot the only clone that was almost perfect. Plus, a few people under his employ mysteriously "disappeared" - - records don't show any transfers, out-of-state moves.....and Chertoff was always out duck hunting when one of his junior staff members vanished. So.....they figured out he was a little too trigger happy, and shooting the one halfway decent Bush clone was the last straw. So then it was Condi and Rummy, and as you can see, neither of them liked it. The Bush clone above is clearly making a gaffe, and both of them know he's a goner, but you can practically hear them,

"It's your turn!"
"No, it's not"
"Yes, it IS! I did it last time!"
"You did not"

God, like a couple of 5 year olds. So, finally it fell to the perfect candidate.

Dr. Eudaimonia.

He loves this part of the job, and we know for a fact that he likes to torture the clone before he kills it. When the time comes up to kill a clone, he makes sure he takes someone from down here with him. Keeps us good and terrified.

It's just the way things are around here.

We may be paralyzed with fear, but we are determined to escape.

I cannot stop thinking about Franny. I wish she would send a sign that she is okay. I look everywhere.......

Did she?

2006-04-11T15:32:00.000-07:00

She's gone. Franny has not been at her desk in almost two weeks, and at first we thought she was home with a cold, she had complained of not feeling well, but we started to get worried when she did not show up yesterday, or today.

Luka called her over the weekend, and told us that all he got was, "we're sorry, the number you have called has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Then he called last night and some guy answered, saying no Franny lived there, never had, sorry. Luka called back just to make sure he had not misdialed and the guy shouted that there was no Franny G. at the this number, he should know, it has been his number for twenty-two years!

We're all in shock.

Was she real? An impersonation? A group hallucination?

Did "they" get her?

Or..........did she escape?

She knew alot about some deep inner governmental workings, my gut says she escaped.

I hope she can send us a message, somehow..........

But the only way she'll be able to stay free is to deny, deny, deny.

That's okay.

We'll all be reunited if... I mean when, we get out.

Still, the mood is somber today.

We're really going to miss her.

Diet Drugs Gone Wild

2006-03-30T11:44:00.000-08:00

So, there's this whole big flap about a new diet drug, and the senior residents here are in a wild frenzy to beat drug company Sanofi-Aventis for FDA approval. The WME had an informant inside Sanofi-Aventis, who got the formula and naturally, the WME has the exact same drug, all ready to go. As you can see from their one test subject above, the drug is effective.

Gosh, since the Weapons of Mass Euphoria is a government branch, who do YOU think will have the drug on the market first?

I hate this place.

Franny has been busy at her desk, not saying much to any of us, just looking up now and then to give Luka a quick smile.

Wonder what that girl has up her sleeve?

Dinner

2006-03-26T18:16:00.000-08:00

Well, Franny joined us for dinner last night. Renee was practically foaming at the mouth for decorating advice, I think Luka has a serious crush, and Jordan seemed to finally "get it". Thank God. He can be so obstinate sometimes, but that's one of the reasons I love him. When he finally comes around, he is a good sport about being endlessly and mercilessly teased.

We filled her in on the horrors of working at the WME bit by bit, and, after rather copious amounts of beer and wine had been consumed, gave her the hard lowdown - that nobody ever leaves of their own volition. She took it well, especially since we let her know that we were hard at work on an escape plan.

Jordan had suggested we not scare her by telling her everything, but once we got rolling into dinner, she expressed her anger that her workspace had been invaded, and said she was going to quit.

"Oh no!" Julianne had just taken a sip of wine and nearly choked. Jordan shot her a warning look.

"What?" Franny had said, understandably taken aback by Juli's reaction.

"Um, uh, you can't quit, um, you just got here, and we really like you, and, uh...."she trailed off helplessly, shooting an apologetic glance back at Jordan.

Jordan emitted one of his long-suffering sighs, and inwardly I rolled my eyes. Julianne does not have a poker face.

"Hey, guys, c'mon, I appreciate being included and making new friends, but really, I've only been here, what, two weeks? I'll request a transfer and you guys will get over it. Seriously."

What could we do? We had to tell her.

Like I said, she took it remarkably well, although she immediately ordered a full carafe of wine.

After we gave her the details of the escape plan, she was quiet.

We were all holding our breathe, nobody wants to be informed that they are a prisoner, it's a shock to the system, and besides, it's rude.

"You know," she took a long pull of her wine. "I might be able to help. I am still in touch with DHHG Secretary Kenneth L. Kenneth."

She paused, looking into her glass and swirling the contents around.

" What is it?" Jordan asked.

"Nothing, I.... well, I think this information might explain Kenneth's weird response when I told him about being transferred over here....." she trailed off.

"What?" I asked, "What did he say?"

"What do you mean weird?" Luka said.

"Your old boss, right?" Renee asked.

We were all pelting her with questions, when Jordan cut in and we immediately shut up.

"Franny," Jordan's voice was urgent, "do you think you can trust him?"

She looked at each of us for a very long time.

"I don't know," she said, biting on her thumbnail. "But I'm sure as hell going to find out."

Franny Finally Speaks

2006-03-21T19:18:00.000-08:00

Jordan and I were working today, it was pretty quiet before lunch, when I felt someone standing over me.

It was Franny.

She had not spoken to anyone since her personal items had been removed from her desk.

At first she just stared at us, then she whispered, "first my things get taken, now this place says mad cow disease doesn't exist? That it's Victoria Beckham's fault?"

I nodded. She drew her breath in sharply.

"May I eat lunch with you guys?"

"No," Jordan answered not looking up from his papers.

Her eyes got very wide, and she looked as if she were about to cry.

Jordan tapped me under the table, handing me the tiny folded paper, which I slipped into her hand.

"That is where we meet for dinner," he said, not once looking up from his files.

Vegan Terrorist

2006-03-18T19:48:00.000-08:00

It just never stops around here. Now the Administration is denying Mad Cow disease, saying Victoria Beckham started it by getting cows tanked on Jack Daniels. Do they even HAVE Jack Daniels in England? And for the love of Mike, look at the girl! She couldn't wrestle a mouse into submission!

When is somebody going to stand up and start screaming, "LIARS!!!!"?

Although, I don't know, she does look kinda tough.....I mean, if she could choke a big cat like that.....

Whatever. I still think the Administration is lying out their asses.

But, they're probably going to get away with this one, too. Sigh.

Sigh

2006-03-15T23:49:00.000-08:00

She didn't believe me.

It's late, and I am sitting here, feeling miserable because today I was vindicated.

Franny listened to me give her a very short, basic outline of what the deal was working at the WME, and she listened very carefully, but then shook her head.

"I admit, it's pretty grim down here," she said, "but you're saying if I bring a few personal things from home to spruce up my workspace, I am going to get in trouble?

"I don't know for sure, but I have been here a long time, and it's just, it's just never been done! I mean, people get in hot water for saying or doing a lot less, so it only makes sense that, yeah, it's not allowed."

"That's just rubbish," she shook her head. "I think you have been working here too long, Peter." She tilted her head and smiled up at me. "But thanks for the concern."

Then she walked back to her desk.

Well, this morning she came into work to find all of her personal belongings gone. The look on her face, I would have given anything not to have seen it. And the information I shared with her was only the tip of the iceberg. Wait until she heard the rest.

Times like this, I would give anything to be wrong.

But I am not, and it makes me miserable.

The Cheerful Guy

2006-03-12T14:49:00.000-08:00

Oh no, I am freaking out. Just saw this picture of our (deargodhelp us all) President, the WME is behind an article about cheerful men and heart disease, and they suggested the Prez endorse the article. It not HIS smarmy, grinning face that upsets me, it's that guy behind him! He WORKS here, he is the "Orientation Greeter" for when new people are hired, and he is always smiling and friendly and helpful, but here, in this candid photo, is the real face.

That is NOT a cheerful dude, and the scariest part is, I always thought it was a different guy who came to "transfer" people out of here, but seeing "Orientation Guy" without his smile plastered on, and Oh My God - it's the same guy!

Do you see why I am freaking? Does he scare you as much as he scares me? He looks NOTHING like that at orientation, and I have a clear memory of it because he is the one who escorted Franny to her desk the day she got here.

I just glanced over at her desk, and my heart just about stopped. She is inputting data, working away, but - - - -

There is a beautiful little picture frame, a small votive candle in a frosted glass holder, and a delicate vase with a tasteful, slim bouquet of fresh flowers in it.

We've gotta move fast. It's Sunday, and none of the higher-ups are here. Psycho Orientation Guy is definitely not here, but if they come in here Monday and see her desk with these items on it.........I don't know. I just don't know. No one here has ever personalized their workspace before. She may only get a warning, but we just can't take the chance.

I am looking around for Jordan, Renee, someone. I don't even know if Julianne or Luka are working today, weekends are so weird.

Oh shit, Franny just looked up and saw me staring at her. I am sure my face is a frozen rictus of horror, because she looks confused.

Oh god she is coming over here.

Breathe, Peter. Breathe. You have to talk to her, and it looks like it is happening now. Breathe.

The Decision

2006-03-09T14:35:00.000-08:00

The six of us had dinner last night. Renee and Rayman had to be brought up to speed about Franny, and there was an enormous amount of discussion that ensued concerning her.

Julianne, Luka and I were convinced she should be brought into the group, but Jordan was dragging his heels on the issue. We needed to hash this out, and dinner got very lively.

I proposed in no uncertain terms that she was one of us, and Jordan was insisting on a reason.

"Because there is NO WAY she would choose to work at the WME voluntarily," I said, signaling for another round of Corona's.

"How can you be so sure?" Jordan demanded. He was getting exasperated with my certainty.

"Jordan, Peter's right," Julianne cut in. "No one would go from such a prestigious, glamorous position to the testing area of the WME. ESPECIALLY not from the DHHG. Even interns at the DHHG would not transfer over here."

"But that's what I am saying, it makes no sense, plus, we don't even know if she was transferred! She may have requested it, we don't know, no one has asked her, you guys are just assuming and if you are wrong..." Jordan spread out his hands, as if nothing more needed to be said.

Rayman spoke up. "I have to agree with these guys, Jordan. When I was on the outside, I was briefed on many forms of governmental transfers, and this one would be unprecedented. I think she must have said or done something a little willful, or perhaps knows too much, and they brought her down here to start doing heavy testing on her, zombie her out, neutralize the issue, you know, like...." he trailed off, morosely running his finger across the glass beer bottle.

We knew. No one wanted to mention Anna and Sam these days. We were getting nowhere with them, and were starting to resign ourselves to their fate. Jordan kept saying that he had hope, that he was getting closer, but the lines of defeat around his eyes told a different story.

Renee put her hands over her face. "It can't happen," she groaned. "Franny G. is the lone voice of good taste in this hideous world. If she gets zapped, I cannot imagine what will happen inside department stores, furniture stores, Home Depots, Pier Ones, I just can't..." her voice caught in her throat, and she quickly looked down. Julianne patted her hand.

"Don't worry, Renee, that's what this meeting is about, we are going to get to the bottom of it."

"I haven't even met her yet," she wailed.

"The next strap down test isn't until April twenty-first," Luka passed Renee a tissue. "We have time."

Jordan looked at Rayman. "Are you certain? I have to listen to you because these four," he waved at us, "are operating from irrational emotion, and I have to hear a reasonable voice above the fashion fray."

"It's DECORATING!" I shouted. "Rayman, I gotta warn you, you are trying to talk sense into a man who only lights a candle if there is a power outage."

"Well, Rayman answered slowly, "I see Jordan's point, but to be fair, if it were not for reading Franny's tips about Holiday decor, my house would not only have looked horribly tacky, but I would have been in violation of governmental code, and had to pay a fine. So, I may be a bit biased, but I am trying to leave my feelings out of the equation."

Jordan sighed, draining his beer. "I think I am going to lose this one, so I am folding with as much dignity as possible. Let's move on to issue number two. Which one of us is going to talk to her?"

The table went silent.

The New Girl, part 3

2006-03-05T18:12:00.000-08:00

"Hello, she said, her voice quiet.

"Hi" the four of us said in unison.

Her eyes took in my desk, Jordan's desk, and the blank beige wall.

"My name is Frances," she stuck out her hand.

"Peter," I answered.

She shook my hand, gravely.

"Luka," he rumbled, hand over my shoulder.

"Julianne," she reached over, smiling at Franny.

"Jordan," he gave her the invisible hat tip.

We all fell silent. I opened my mouth to ask her why she had identified herself as 'Frances', when I felt, more than actually saw, the warning glance from Julianne.

"Well, nice to meet you all," she said, sticking her hands in her pockets, "I have to put my desk together and go pick up some files."

"Nice to meet you, too," we all answered at once, again.

"Do you need help finding anything?" Luka asked, leaning into her slightly.

Her gaze made the steady 360 around the room again.

"I do, but I am not sure it is something you could help me with," she said, a touch of melancholy flitting across her features.

"Try me," Luka smiled. "At least let me give you a tour, starting with the lunchroom."

She hesitated, then gave a quick nod. "Okay, why not? It's good to know where the coffee is, at least."

"Working here?" Julianne raised her eyebrows, "sometimes you need something a little stronger than coffee. Give her the tour Luka. Welcome to the WME, Frances."

They locked eyes. Franny G. broke into a slow smile.

"Call me Franny," she grinned at Juli, then turned and followed Luka through the double doors.

"What was that?" I asked, feeling left out. After all, Franny G. was MY hero - and she and Julianne had just had some mysterious bonding moment that had flown right by me.

"Later, Peter." Julianne looked at us pointedly. "I have a feeling things are going to get veeeerrrry interesting around here."

Jordan and I stared at each other, baffled.

The New Girl, part 2

2006-03-03T12:36:00.000-08:00

"Peter!" Jordan looked up from his conversation with Julianne. "What is your problem? I have not seen you this hysterical since you spotted Jackie Collins at Bloomingdale's last year".

I could hardly breathe. "The new girl, over there, the..." I pointed and Luka grabbed my arm.

'Rude!" he said sharply.

Inhaling slowly I focused on the three of them.

"That, my friends, is Franny G., of the Department of Homeland Homes and Gardens."

Luka and Jordan stared at me, clueless, but Julianne gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Why is she down here?" Julianne whispered, her eyes huge. "Just BEING down here could literally kill the poor woman."

We all looked over at Franny, who seemed to be trying to take her own deep breaths. We watched as she slowly sat down, taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I know they dissolved the Department around the first of the year, but why would they send her here?" Julianne persisted. "Do you think maybe they are finally going to make this hellhole livable?"

I snorted. "Are you kidding? Does she look happy, like a person rolling up her sleeves to renovate? No."

"Guys?" Jordan cut in, "Care to fill us in on this Franny G.? Sorry, but I'm lost."

I shook my head sadly. "Jordan, do you think my gorgeous apartment just happened on its own? Do you think my coming over to your place with tea lights and throw pillows was some sort of creative whim? It was ALL suggestions and pointers from Franny G. She is renowned for her decorating tips, and if it were not for her, you would STILL be in that horrible Eighties glass-and-chrome cell you called home.

That woman was number one at the Department of Homeland Homes and Gardens, she worked hand in hand with the Department Director, Kenneth H. Kenneth, fighting the terror of home decor. She is the living, breathing "Do" and "Don't" when it comes to creating the showpiece, the absolute end in good taste, I, I could go on all day...."

"Shh!" Luka whispered. "She's coming this way."

The New Girl

2006-02-23T10:03:00.000-08:00

A new face walked in today. It just so happened that Luka and Julianne were over by our station, the four of us were double-checking some facts concerning the longterm effects of buckshot lodged in the heart.

I noticed her first. Small, dark curly hair, glasses, great bone structure. A face that had that wonderful combination of cute and stern. The other three were flipping through folders while I stopped and gazed at her. Really, really cute.

"Peter," Luka's voice cut through my reverie, "Do you have the "Gun's n' Ammo" report on you?"

"Yeah, sorry, I think so," I hastily fumbled around the clutter on my desk. Luka, ever observant, noticed what I had been doing. He tilted his head down, slightly.

"Who is she?" he asked after a pause, clearly as taken as I was, if not more.

"I don't know," I answered slowly, "but there is something familiar about her, I just can't put my finger on it."

Julianne and Jordan were deep in discussion, heads bent together, so Luka and I watched the new girl for a bit, neither of us saying anything.

She was looking around her cubicle, a small furrow between her eyes. Her gaze then traveled along the walls, and up to the ceiling, where she stopped, and a small shudder went through her body. She continued her survey, her eyes passing right over and slightly above us, it seemed that she was not looking at any of the people, she was covering the workspace, inch by inch. She did not look happy at all.

Then it hit me. I grabbed Luka's arm.

"I know who she is, OH MY GOD, oh my god!!!!"

What A Difference A Day Makes

2006-02-16T22:06:00.000-08:00

Okay, I had a bad toothache, a few days ago they sent me to the Emergency Dental Center here - it's kind of creepy and chaotic. I felt like I was in the purgatory scene in "Beetlejuice".

Anyway, they knocked me out, yanked my teeth around, woke me up, doped me up, and sent me home, where I slept for about four days, only to wake up and find out that the Vice President shot his hunting buddy!

God, don't go to sleep for too long these days. If I weren't finally awake and cognizent, I'd think it was the drugs talking.

I have a theory, I think Cheney did it on purpose to knock Mikey off of the front page.

Cant you just hear it?

Rove, "I hate to ask, Dick, I really do, but Brownie is all over the media, yammering on and on and pointing the finger at US, the ungrateful little snot."

Cheney," It's no problem Karl, honestly, don't give it a second thought. Harry's not really a friend, he's just a fat wallet that I had just about emptied anyway. It's a no-brainer."

BAM!!!!!!!!

Or maybe it was more patriotic than that - Cheney was just trying to reduce the burden on Social Security by offing a 78-year old.

Hmmm.

The silent High-five

2006-02-11T12:32:00.000-08:00

We are all so happy here today. Michael "Brownie" Brown finally got sick of being the scapegoat for the failure of FEMA and their response to "Katrina" and bit back yesterday. GO BROWNIE! He is a hero down here! In fact, we have made a pact to stop calling him "Brownie" he obviously does not like it. So, GO MIKEY!!

See, we are so often the scapegoats when they test meds on us and then they don't work on some public figure - WE get blamed! Isn't that insane? Where's the logic? When Librex was tested on all of us (whether we had spastic colons or not) and it worked, they chose it to help President Bush stop smirking. Well, guess what - he didn't, and they blame us. It is not our fault that the President has a spastic brain AND colon.

So, when they blamed the whole hurricane disaster on one guy, it really felt like a load of crap.

(After all, he was the ONLY government official to have the guts show his face on "Nightline" to get blasted by Ted Koppel - the rest of the administration was hiding like chickenshits).

He got complimented publicly by Bush on the great job he was doing, then canned a week later.

Nice.

So finally, Michael Brown is speaking out and saying that indeed, it was a load of ca-ca.

AND, Some high ranking folks lashed out at President Bush yesterday during Coretta Scott Kings memorial. More on that later. It's all so good. We are feeling so good, and this is without meds.

Maybe there is hope for humanity after all.

The Teether Info Is Out

2006-02-08T08:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, I am dying of laughter. A few days ago, the magazine DeadBrain wrote a featured article about the contaminated teether recall, and let it spill that everyone in the White House sucks on a teether, and has their particular favorites. This DeadBrain reporter who writes the health report seems to try and write about what is really going on, even though the P.R. people here are ALWAYS denying the allegations. I wish we could somehow get in touch with that reporter and feed them more information. I have to write that on my "to do" list.

One of the things they do not know is that Dr. Eudaimonia and his circle of cronies provide those teethers to the White House, and the teethers have been treated with an assortment of medications that the administration don't know they are ingesting. And guess who gives that order? Barbara Bush and Karl Rove.

Go to:

DeadBrain

Read "The Health Report" - Breaking News - President Bush's favorite teether recalled for contamination.

The information is incomplete, but it is accurate, believe me.

I am sending RayMan on a mission to find this reporter.

State of the Union Speech report 2006

2006-02-01T09:57:00.000-08:00

I am sitting at my desk, after showing my report to Jordan, Julianne, Luka and Renee. We read each other's and started laughing. We had all written the same thing.

The REAL report:
He is lying - delusional - not taking his Librium.
Threatening Iran - aggressive - obviously cut back on the Thorazine
Looks very healthy - must be using very expensive self tanning lotion.
And the line,"peed the feeples" instead of feed the people's - - drunk, stoned, or a moron.

Off they go into the shredder.

The WME wants to hear that President Bush is doing a spectacular job, and since he didn't fall down, mangle sentences SO badly (just one or two), drop his dog, try to open a door that was locked, trip on his way to the podium, the report will give him an A+ all down the line.

The REQUIRED report:
President Bush is on point, inspirational, and the greatest leader we have ever had. The End.

Someday I want to turn in the real report, but then I would wind up like poor Anna and Sam. Glassy eyed, smiling, not many words except for, "Yes of course! My pleasure! No problem!" Anything I can do to help!"

They have the Stepford Chip in their heads. Jordan is trying to figure out a way to get it out, but it's complicated, and will take time.

I just can't risk it, tempting as it is. I have to keep reminding myself that we have an escape plan in motion.

Grrrrrrr.....I'm complaining

2006-01-31T11:46:00.000-08:00

Oh blech. We have barely recovered from two hours of horrid conductor Donald Rumsfeld, now tonight is horrid President George W. Bush with a State of the Union Address, oh joy.

Of course, we are ordered by the whitecoats to watch it carefully, to detect any signs that perhaps Bush is not taking all of his meds, or he is showing symptoms of something new, or if he has gotten hammered. Then we actually have to write a report on what we observed and turn it in the next day.

I hate it when the stupid President speaks. Thank heavens it is not very often. When Clinton was in office, we had TONS of reports to write, but those were enjoyable, and easy. Bush is really difficult, the guy is such a dumb-ass who can tell if he is drunk? Who can tell if he is in pain, or just smirking and bobbing his head back and forth like a pigeon? The way he gestures looks like someone with a few too many Vicoden in their system, you know what I mean? It is very easy to make a mistake with this guy - you should SEE what some of the past reports have said. It's hilarious. Everything from Tourette's syndrome,speech impediment, stroking out, psychotic to completely wasted on booze and pills.

No one knows what is wrong with this fool, but we dutifully watch the speech and write our stupid little evaluation.

I hate my job.

Oh lord, it's that time again

2006-01-26T11:05:00.000-08:00

You know what's worse than the "Strap Down Happy Hour"?

The yearly company concert with special guest conductor.

This year it's Rumsfeld, and he is utterly clueless - I think he just took a handful of Ritalin and started waving his hands around.

The poor orchestra is trying to follow, but the 1812 Overture just sounds like cats in heat.

I have a headache.

It's true

2006-01-24T09:36:00.000-08:00

The WME has been listening in on every American citizen who takes ANYTHING, prescription, over-the-counter, herbs, people who are getting their meds from Canada and Mexico - the memo was destroyed but word leaked out, and now they are lying their heads off, saying it is only Lithium and Viagra. What a joke.

Jordan gathered us all together and explained that he had overheard a round table conversation led by Eudaimonia himself, up on the 18th floor. How he managed to get up there, we have no idea. Jordan has always understood the concept of a tesseract, and although he has never said anything, I believe he can tesser. If you have read "A Wrinkle in Time" you understand the concept, but if you have not, I will explain it, but it will be clumsy.

You can simply think of where you want to be, and be there, not unlike Harry Potter and the ability to Apparate.

The difference is, Jordan cannot go far, but he can get around the WME with ease. We never talk about how he winds up in areas that you need special papers and I.D. for, but we don't question what he sees and hears. It is always the truth.

Back to the phone tapping issue - it is true, even if you purchace something as common as aspirin. You are being listened in on, no matter how they spin it, what they say or deny, this is the truth. And it has been going on for five years, maybe more.

I have to go, more later.

And we thought it was just us

2006-01-14T19:19:00.000-08:00

"Peter" Jordan leaned over. "Something's up".

I yawned, still feeling bleary from last week. Some of my memory is coming back, and other parts are utterly blank. Why is my tooth chipped? And did Julianne and I really kiss? I have wanted to ask her but she is just as zoned out as everyone else. Jordan is recovering the fastest because he puts himself through a rigorous liver cleanse every time they test us. I should do it, but it's a lot of work and some of the stuff you have to drink is really gross. I digress.

He nudged me. "Focus, Peter, please!"

"Okay, what, yes, I heard you, something is up. Is that a shock? Since when is there not something up here?" I admit, my tone was a tad snappish.

"You know how they listen in on our home phones? Well...." He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear.

My jaw dropped.

This was huge.

Test Week

2006-01-06T12:10:00.000-08:00

God, a whole week has gone by. Dr. Eudaemonia had a big press conference yesterday about different antidepressants, and he wanted to have every tiny fact and detail straight, so we had "test week" where we were all pumped full of meds, meds, and more meds, then strapped into the "mind reactor" chair to see how we could answer basic questions.

Well, they tell us here that his statement was excellent, full of solid information to help the average American citizen understand what they were taking and why.

I wish I knew what they had given us. I feel headach-y and woozy, and the whole month of December plus the
first week of January has been erased from my memory. There are little snippets, but that is about all.

Oh well, that is why we make the big bucks.

I mean, I think we do.

Do we?

Hope Again?

2005-12-29T18:06:00.000-08:00

It is the season of hope. I have hope, I swear......I have hope.

Patti Smith

2005-12-24T00:36:00.000-08:00

What was given up?

The ability to manipulate their world with their hands,

in order to fly.

T.H. had a bad headache last night, and he is the one who knows this, today.

HappyMerryChristholidaysKwanzacHanukkah

2005-12-24T00:01:00.000-08:00

Whatever. We don't get the day off anyway. But for those of you that do.............

It's the one time of the year I bet you guys wished you worked here, huh?

Thank god for the "Holiday" candy dish.

Winter

2005-12-22T20:40:00.000-08:00

Jordan and I huddled under the covers.

"What is it about this time of year?" I asked, getting ready to cry and feel sorry for myself.

"You name it," he answered, forking the last bit of shaved turkey into his mouth.

"The most I can figure is," he wiped the last of the gravy off of his lips, "expectations."

For once I had no answer.

Why You Cry?

2005-12-17T21:41:00.000-08:00

We had a half day today, not in honor of John Spencer, but because the whitecoats are zooming off with their holiday plans. Assholes. I am becoming hateful and mean the longer I work here.

RayMan came by, he had a small reel "Walking Home"

He tried to tell me it was going to be okay. I looked at him, what a sweet face! How in the hell was that clip going to make me feel okay?

I feel okay sometimes.

I cannot save the world.

I do not like becoming bitter. It was not supposed to turn out this way. Damn damn damn damn damn.

Where's Jordan? God, I kissed Julianne, and it seems like the days fell away.

Goodbye John

2005-12-16T18:49:00.000-08:00

Luka called me tonight. I was still heady from my kiss.

"Peter," his accent was so soothing. I figured he was going to give me hell about kissing Julianne. I was wrong.

"Do you remember when you and Anna met in the film business?"

"Uh, yes...?" I stammered, wondering if this was part of his plan to get Anna and Sam to remember us.

"Do you remember the show "The West Wing" that she wound up working on?"

""Yes..." I was still confused.

"Well, John Spencer, the man who played Leo, died of a heart attack today," he said briskly. '"He was only fifty-eight," he added, his voice trailing off.

""What? Why are you telling me this?" I felt as if I could not take another loss.

"I was thinking that perhaps if we showed her his picture, told her that he was dead, it might spark a memory...."

"You mercenary fuck!" I screamed

""It's a mercenary time, Peter. I know you liked the man. So did she. I am from Croatia, remember? You do what you have to do."

I slammed the phone down and rocked back and forth for a long, long time.

Love?

2005-12-13T21:09:00.000-08:00

"Hey Jools" I asked late tonight, after the shopping meds had kicked in. "Want to go to the mall or something?"

Okay, I admit it, I have had a crush on her for as long as I have worked here.

The biggest test of trust we all go through is telling each other our real names.

"Peter, I don't shop, you know that," she pushed pens around on her desk as if they were ants.

"Julianne!" I yelled, "is it Smith? Springsteen? Phillips?"

Her skin grew more pale, if that was possible, then she fired back,

"Peter, is it Kilburn? Mahan? Legier, Jaramillo, Kirkwood?"

I felt ashamed. Neither of us could even pronounce, much less spell, our supposed last names.

"Juli, I''m sorry, it's the holidays, the drugs, its, I don't........."

She kissed me, hard.

" Peter," she whispered, "It doesn't matter what our names are now, or what they were then. It doesn't matter how people perceive us, really. Nothing matters anymore, except for us getting out."

I returned her kiss with the desperation of time. God, she was beautiful.

"Okay," I breathed into her neck, "okay."

Have a happy happy happy

2005-12-13T20:04:00.000-08:00

Well, I think those spending meds are great. Dr E. did not say what would happen if they were all taken at once, WITH alcohol, or Pepsi, or coffee, but it sure looks like fun.

I have put in a request to go spend but I doubt they'll process it.

Still, I have the picture of other people all fucked up, and I don't feel so alone.

Bye bye 2005!!!

Nervous

2005-12-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

Eat, drink, sleep. How do we do that without AMBIEN -- how do we do that at all? I am frightened. Everybody around me has confidence that either they are doing their jobs well or they will get out of here. I have neither. I don't think my work is all that exemplary, and I do not think we are ever going to escape. I am trapped in a mundane world of my own making, and I either become withdrawn or bitchy with others. It's just a life, what does it matter? But I am worried that I might say or do something irreparable, either to myself or my friends.

It is just the holidays talking, I guess

Hearts

2005-12-08T17:23:00.000-08:00

It's the holidays, as Luka calls them, "the Sillydays". People seem more crazy than usual, stressed and nuts. We feel at this time of year at one with others, as we are this stressed all year round. Luka just went into the lunchroom, when suddenly his heart started pounding, his arm went numb, and he thought his head was going to explode.

You would think that working here, someone would be posted at all doorways, at the ready, just in case anybody collapsed. Not here. Luka had been lying on a cot, trying to breathe, for over two hours. Jordan was the first to notice.

"Peter" he came hurrying down the aisle, "Luka is sick, he is unable to breathe......"

We ran into the lunchroom, where Luka was struggling to get up.

"It's okay you guys - it's just stress."

He took a deep breath.

"Plus, I think I have the combination to bring Anna and Sam back," his eyes fluttered and he flopped back.

Idiot men

2005-12-04T18:46:00.000-08:00

"God," Julianne ripped into the restaurant, late as usual.

"We're getting older, sure, but to cry about it! Our job is to convince people that they are not going to die! Don't you guys think that is kind of sick??"

Juli has always been high strung, but when you can get past the timbre of her voice, she actually makes sense.

I was foolish enough to try and outshout her.

"Jools!" I harked, "how can you wear all white and talk so black?"

She threw her shoe.

"Peter, have you never worn grey?"

No

2005-12-03T21:30:00.000-08:00

I sat at home that night, full of shrimp and beer.

So many people are cold and hungry, and I am feeling sorry for myself.

AnnaCorvo's husband does not know where she is, and Sam has no family, no one there for him. He reconciled that with being a "free spirit", yet when he found people that loved him, well, we became his family, and he had been so excited.

Anna.....we need you.

Sam, for god's sake, stop playing dead.

Both of you- don't come home.

Renee came up with a way to smuggle you guys out.

RayMan said, "I think we can do it."

"a street at night, shining black [Western dresses,] moonlight..............(Phoebe, pg 241, vs145)

It's a long story

2005-12-02T21:51:00.000-08:00

"Jordan, I am trying to get out of the past and look forward! Can't you get that something might make me cry? A photo, a song, my old life, my country, my friends....Can't you get that I have become robotic and if I even get a hint of what might-have-been, I get angry?

"Oh, Peter," Jordan stared at his now empty plate.

"Do you really think you are unique?"

Jordan demands an explanation

2005-12-02T19:36:00.000-08:00

"Peter!" Jordan shouted over the television and the jukebox. He was digging into his Camarones Y Filete Empanizados, managing to eat fried food during dry weather and not puke. Not to mention yelling so loud that the only other two patrons heard him over the noise and gave us a glance.

I kicked him under the table and ordered another beer.

"What?"

I busied myself with my own shrimp, and sucked that beer like happy water.

'Why does the music in the basement upset you? Who is this Tomas Hart, or Hradcky, or whatever his name is, and why does he make you so emotional? We have enough going on, and this music makes you cry? What about Anna? And Sam? If you were going to cry, I would think..."

"Shut up!" I yelled, causing the customers to look again. "It IS about Anna and Sam, it is about the horror of..."

I could not finish. I was tired and did not want to think about work, or loss, or beauty unrecognized. I just wanted to eat my dinner and quiet my mind.

But Jordan was my partner, and my best friend, and he deserved more.

I delved into the past again.

WHO WAS THAT?

2005-11-29T20:19:00.000-08:00

"Jordan," I felt like I was shouting, 'what music was that?"

"Don't you remember that guy Wild loved to listen to? Don't you remember your father.."

I shut him off with a glance.

"Jordy, please don't make me cry at work. It aggravates me, plus I get in trouble."

"The Basement has a lot of answers, Peter. And it's not that scary to go down there."

I busied myself with files.

Odd thing, Jordan didn't have a speck of dirt on him.

Music?

2005-11-29T14:59:00.000-08:00

It's over. AnnaCorvo and Sam do not know us anymore.

Rayman issued a warning "Miss Worthington" - he tried to say be careful. (Phoebe pg. 432 vs.517).

Jordan had already bolted down to The Basement, then back, before I had time to panic.

After Sam, and sighing with the inevitable fact that we were not all going to make it, he talked about the music down there.

"It's dark," he said, "different, not the loop we have lived on for years." He put his face in his hands.

"Dark? Jordy, do you think we need more dark?" I asked, having to admit that Haydn and Mozart were not exactly dark.

"No, no, this is not some classical icon. Just different," he grinned, leaning in close. "Here, he whispered. "I taped it, it feels like a waltz. Want to dance?" I could see him holding back tears.

"No, honey, let's just listen."

God,.....this time of year. He leaned on me for a moment, the went back to the Waltz, smiling, somewhere far far away.

They're Back.....I think

2005-11-25T10:25:00.000-08:00

Oh my god, they're back. I see AnnaCorvo at her station, Sam is getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee. I am whispering into this hand held automated computer so I can give the information right in the moment, and obviously I cannot rush up to say hello, but Jordan just pushed his chair back and followed Sam into the lunchroom. I feel like crying with relief.

I am watching Jordan talk with Sam through the glass doors. They both look confused. Jordan is leaning in and speaking quietly in Sam's ear, and Sam looks, well, kind of blank. He not only looks confused, he looks like he doesn't even know who Jordan is.

Uh-oh, a whitecoat. Shit. I gotta go.

THE NOTE

2005-11-24T19:26:00.000-08:00

I am freaking out. Yes, it's Thanksgiving, but we don't celebrate holidays at the WME - we're lucky if we get a weekend off. They don't like us to be out in the world for prolonged periods of time.

I had taken the note that AnnaCorvo and Sam had found and shoved it in my pocket, not daring to open it up in the restaurant. When I got home I opened it up and tried to read it, but it had been so badly crumpled up it was almost impossible. Plus, it had dirt on it, like it had been buried. All I could make out were the words "CDC controlled chicken farms", "meeting scheduled," "poultry imported", and a list of grocery stores - Kroger, Costco, Wal-Mart Super Store, Jon's.....

I am posting it as I first received it from AnnaCorvo. You, fellow American, can click on it and it may come up larger on your computer. I feel that every handling of it should be photo-documented for clues, especially now. Perhaps you will find something I have missed. So far, I believe it has something to do with the infected chickens, but I am having trouble concentrating.

See, the note is a mystery, but the bigger, horrifying mystery is.....AnnaCorvo and Sam have not been at work since that night. I went to work the very next day wanting to ask them how and where they found it, I had a plan all set up so that we could talk freely for about five minutes, and they were not there. Not that day, not the next day, not the next.

Jordan has been doing everything he can to contact them - walkie talkies, the throwaway cell phones, everything. He left the coded message "Let's not forget Margo's precious lost earring (lost? - Little Miss Evil swiped it!).

("Phoebe" pg.122, verse 292-293) - this is the code phrase for "where are you? Worried sick that the soul snatching WME has done something to you! Please call back ASAP!".
We have all dreaded the day we have to use that code, and Jordan has left it every single day. Nothing.

Now we have a note possibly indicating that flu infected chickens are being shipped to lower income markets, AND our two comrades have vanished.

Jordan is ready to do the most risky thing a person working here can do.

He is going to ask someone.

I have been pleading with him not to, but he is getting adamant.

"Peter, it will look suspicious if we don't," he said, stapling papers with unnatural force.

"It will be suicide if we do," I answered under my breath, what little I have left. I swear, I am holding my breath all the time these days.

He was silent, staring at the stack of papers in front of him.

"The Basement," he said, not looking up. "We have to get down to the Basement."

I shut my eyes.

I didn't expect it to end this way.

"Don't worry," Jordan said, reading my mind. "We're not done in yet."

I wish I had his confidence.

"Okay," I whispered, resigned. "When?"

"Soon. Just act normal."

How can I act normal? Normal was no longer part of my life the day I started working here.

"Okay." I repeated.

Americans, please. I may not be back, so this holiday season, please choose ham as your main dish.

Friday night, ya-hoo

2005-11-18T21:12:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, November 15th, was a full moon. AnnaCorvo, Sam and I decided to have dinner after work - it was not something that would be too terribly suspicious, especially since Anna informed me that all this time I have been spelling her name wrong.

"I was trying to keep your identity a secret," I defended myself pretty well.

"Whatever." She gathered up her files and went to her locker. "I'm over it."

We spaced our clock-out time and met at a new place, good food, cash only. Perfect.

Anna told us about the turkey give-away.

"Look," she reached into her pocket, giving us a dirty, folded piece of paper. Sam gestured towards me.

"Yuck, you guys." I shied away from the paper, my gut telling me it was not dirt that was spoiling my appetite.

PHOEBE 2002

2005-11-12T16:38:00.000-08:00

Okay, I have to explain what has happened here in installments. First and foremost, Jeffery Conway is one of three authors of the highly acclaimed epic poem/essay "Phoebe 2002" He and fellow writers Lynn Crosbie and David Trinidad worked for many years on it, and it was finally published in 2003. Long before I came to the WME to work, Jeffery and I had lived in the same building, and had enjoyed many good times together. Jeffery left for New York, I worked in the film business for a bit, then came here to work for the WME.
When I called him to tell him of my career change, he was upset.

"The Weapons of Mass Euphoria? I have read some horrifying articles about them, really creepy information that gets killed long before it even winds up on the back page of mainstream media, Peter. I don't like you working there, I don't like it at all."

"Jeffery," I had been both amused and touched by his concern, "you can't believe everything you read. Seriously, we're not Russia or the Middle East, this is America! If the WME were a shady governmental operation it would be exposed! Remember Watergate?"

(god I am sitting with my head in my hands, how could I have been so naive and stupid and young? Redundant, isn't it)?

"Well," he had said, "stay in close touch."

I did, and as the work situation became more horrifying, I told him about it. He was frantic for me to get out, but it was too late. So he has written into "Phoebe 2002" coded messages both for escape, and for us to use to communicate. As installments go along, when our little group is talking and we say something that seemingly makes no sense, I will indicate that it is from "Phoebe", why we are using it and what it means.
We are now eight - turns out RayMan was found by Jeffery - Jeffery told him our story and RayMan immediately took on the assignment of getting us out of here. It's still going to take awhile, and I will continue to report everything I can, but the thought of escape is causing a high quiver amongst us all, and we really need to tone it down. I hate to admit it, but everybody has been dipping into the lunchroom candy dishes pretty liberally since RayMan showed up with "Phoebe". But there are two new feelings that we don't want to numb out - happiness and hope. It's been a long time, but the last time anyone acted too happy down here they were assigned to the basement, so we HAVE to keep it under wraps. Someday I'll tell you what was in the basement, besides the proof that Marilyn Monroe was murdered.

"What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed!" (Phoebe 2002, pg.69)

From this point on that quote is the only way to reference the Marilyn information.

it may get confusing, but in the long run we are all much safer.

For now.

NEWS FROM THE OUTSIDE!

2005-11-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

Bobby D. just flew in with great news. RayMan is cool, he is one of us, and he has the book. We have been waiting for the book for years. All I can say now is what Bobby is whispering in my ear......
"Jeffery finished it, it will be here soon....."

We have no answers

2005-11-03T18:18:00.000-08:00

Holy Cow, what a day. I am assuming everybody saw the emergency press conference yesterday, OH MY GOD! It has been quiet as a tomb down here, no ruckus, no freak-outs, and we are all completely in the dark. To have that group up there disagree about the bird flu issue AND get into a row about medications and if the public should take them, well, it is just unprecedented. Dr. Eudaimonia and the administration are so far in each other's pockets, they would NEVER have a public spat! I mean, they are all spouse swappers, for chrissake!

Well, we have nothing to report on the truth about the bird flu. We do not know if it is real or not, although some weird signs ARE pointing to some governmental nastiness in there, but we have nothing solid. All we have is a recent photo of Kim Jong-Il strolling on the beach with his mysterious lady love.

Doesn't really look like a guy who would hurt an innocent chicken, does he?

The prank

2005-10-30T09:42:00.000-08:00

Oh dear god this week has been really unpredictable. After Tuesday, we did not see ANYONE other than our co-workers, and an inter office memo came down on Thursday informing us that we had to work all weekend. Everyone is pretty disgruntled and crabby, people are barely speaking to each other. Even the seven of us are in our own little worlds. The only one who seems the same is RayMan, he is friendly, smiling, slogging through files and re-organizing them after the uppers stampeded in such a fit - and let me tell you, they TRASHED the filing cabinets, toppling them over to find some info. I don't know if they found what they needed, but they didn't bother to pick up after themselves, and poor RayMan has been left to deal with it. He has not uttered a single complaint, just put his nose to the grindstone and has been sorting things out ever since. Huge job, and he could have gotten really surly about the whole thing. If anything, he seems to have a little spring in his step. Its weird.

Then yesterday, a junior member barged in and wanted to know "who was responsible for the company pumpkin?"

Everybody was silent, we had no idea what this goon was talking about.

"Fine, follow me, I am sure once you see this mess, you will be compelled to take responsibility for it."

We were marched single file into the lavatory, where, well, you see what was perched on the toilet.

The seven of us stared at each other - it could only be one of us, but the same look of astonishment was on all of our faces.

The whole floor was staring, mouths open, and you could practically feel a mass outbreak of laughter building when we were angrily ushered out.

"We're going to find out who's behind this, believe me," the junior resident snarled. "There will be a full investigation, and the repercussions will be severe, believe you me." He glared at us, seemingly more enraged by our silence.

"It's the COMPANY PUMPKIN people! A longstanding WME tradition has just been sulllied, and no one seems to care. Well, you will care plenty when we get to the bottom of this." His whole body was shaking with anger.

I was nervous, but knew I had nothing to worry about, I had not done it. I was a bit envious of the brave soul that had not only thought of this, but had the nerve to execute it. It was simply brilliant. I glanced at my comrades, was it one of them? They looked back at me. Not a clue. We would have to arrange a meeting ASAP.

We were marched back to our cubicles and everybody was whispering, subdued, curious, worried, checking with others to be sure they had alibis......

Only RayMan seemed unaffected. If anything, there was even a little more spring in his step, and a wild little gleam in his eye.

SEPTUAGENARIAN GONE WILD!

2005-10-25T16:11:00.000-07:00

We are in shock, all of us. Psychiatrist Jack Barchas has spilled the beans to the media about what the WME did to Tom Cruise. The WME is in a total uproar today. You should have seen the white coats running, yelling at each other, bursting into our area and jerking file cabinets open, grabbing discs, no order or protocol at all. A few of them even popped into the lunchroom and snatched some pills from our bowls! God, it's not like they don't have absolutely every drug on earth right at their fingertips. Snagging coffee and pharmaceuticals from the lowly grunts is just, well, low. But, we don't care, this is actually a great day for us - any paranoia that we were under suspicion has relaxed during this crisis - we have gone back to being nameless, faceless drones incapable of doing any damage to the WME by escaping and spilling office secrets - Go Barchas!

It's so frenzied here Jordan said that he and Sam saw Dr. Eaudiamonia come barging down the hallway, glasses all askew, yelling for people to get into the crisis room STAT! None of us have ever seen Eudaimonia except on the news or in the paper or the lifesize oil painting of him that hangs in the main lobby. We were starting to think that perhaps he was not on the premises at all, that he had his own little RV parked near the White House residence or down in Crawford somewhere. What a shock to actually see the guy, and see him so agitated. It's just been great. This is going to keep the spotlight off of us for quite some time. We will be able to get a lot of information smuggled out of here AND have time left over to continue planning our escape. I'ts like being granted an extra 24 hours in a day.

And for the record? Barchas is telling the whole truth - everything he said is true, except for the numerical figure. The WME offered Tom Cruise 175 million to go off of his meds, and have only paid him twenty five. Whenever Cruise shows up here demanding to be paid, he is warmly shown into the WME's Celebrity Lounge, and given a nice homemade beverage heavily laced with chloral hydrate. He rants and raves for about fifteen minutes, then falls asleep, where one of us senior interns has to stuff him into our backseats and drive him home. We are given a key to his house, security code, the whole banana. It usually keeps him away for a few months, as they give him quite a hefty dose ( either in hot chocolate or a pina colada, depending on the season) and he generally has no memory of showing up with his panties in a twist, having a tantrum about money. By the time he remembers that the WME still owes him 150 million dollars, he is off in the middle of a movie or twirling some new gal off the top of the Empire State Building, whatever. After that he shows up again and they drug him again and we haul him home and dump him on the couch again, it's just routine over here. They are never going to pay him another dime, and he is too nuts to figure it out. Poor guy. Oh well. You deal with the WME voluntarily, you are making a deal with the devil.
However, if you are like one of us, and wind up working here without knowing exactly what you have gotten yourself into, by the time you find out, it's over. They own you.

But the seven of us are going to change all that, it's just a matter of time and a little luck.

By the way, back to the Lunesta issue - listen carefully to the commercial and how many times they contradict themselves. Just stop watching the happy sleeping people and the butterfly and listen to the words. It's all there for you to hear, but nobody seems to hear it. You HAVE to start paying attention and stop being distracted by the pretty images and happy music. That is what the WME counts on and how they get away with legally drugging people. And that is just the tip of the iceberg. People, pay attention! Wake up! Help us help you!

Be careful out there, fellow Americans. The shit is starting to hit the fan.

Julianne Freaks Out

2005-10-19T14:25:00.000-07:00

Oh boy, it's getting insane here. Our plan to get together over the weekend worked beautifully, I can't give all of the details, but for those of us that live in first floor dwellings it was easy - out the window. The others swiped out at different times, and it took practically half a day staggering everyone for us all to meet at our little Salvadoran hideaway - NO ONE from the WME would ever find us there, and if they did, they'd be too scared to go in.

Anyway, Julianne showed up last, and it was so great to all be together and talk about the craziness of the swipe card, the bizarre testings, and we spent a LOT of time discussing the issue of RayMan, was he cool? He seemed it, but we really had to be careful. Julianne was particularly suspicious because RayMan was the one who brought her the file about herbs that was all lies.

Well, today at work we saw the paper. It was a few days old, we never get to read current news, by the time it trickles down to us, it has been said, done, signed, whatever, and there is nothing anyone can do. So, sure enough, there was a piece on Angelina Jolie, the Secretary of Foreign Medicines, and she had held the town hall meeting in New Orleans, then there was an older article about her at the Kennedy Center attending a gala called the Global Business Coalition on HIV/AIDS standing with Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. Angelina Jolie is an actress, and out of the blue she was appointed Secretary of Foreign Medicines. Was this to take away some of the Brad-Jen breakup criticism? For whatever reason Jolie is suddenly holding a high government office, it has Julianne going out of her mind.

"That bitch," she practicaly spit, gliding up behind me, the article clenched in her hand. "I spent a little time with her, just before I was getting out of the business, and I have a few friends still in who know her. She is TOTALLY into alternative medicines, herbs, homoeopathy, all of it. Ever since she cleaned up, she has a super healthy lifestyle, I swear, I don't even think she takes an aspirin!"

She threw the article on the counter. "Look at her now, a HUGE post here, at the WME, parroting their lies and bullshit, then rubbing shoulders with prominent members of this administration. It makes me sick, I don't think I can take anymore, I have to get out of here...."

I grabbed her arm and propelled her to a chair.

"Juli, pull it together, this is not the place to lose it, you've got to block this out until you get home, I'll meet you after work and the two of us will talk, okay? But not here." I reached into the candy dish.

"No, no, I am not going to numb out," she said, her voice raising.

"Oh yes you are - we need you, we all want to get out of here, and we can't do it without you. We all agreed that if we started flipping out at work, we would utilize the lunchroom pantry. Now take it."

I handed her a Vicoden and a Xanax, a great combo to make everything okay until the end of the day, but not so strong that you are stoned and nodding out at your desk. Julianne's desk was piled with work, she had a lot to do, besides, it was too great a risk to have her fill out the paperwork to get an Oxy, she was too disraught, it would cause attention.

"Oh all right," she popped both in her mouth and sipped some water. "I don't even know why this is upsetting me so much, really."

"I think I may have an idea," I answered, giving her a quick pat on the back. "But we'll talk about it later - do you want to get together tonight?"

She nodded, and I made the scribble on hand gesture, our code for getting notes to each other. I had to get back to my desk before it became noticed that we were talking in the lunchroom alone, so I gave her a wink after the gesture and she gave me a weak smile.

"That bitch drinks chamomile tea every single night," she said, shaking her head.

"No!" I hissed as I walked out.

"Uh-huh." Julianne folded her arms, and stared at the wall, the muscles in her jaw twitching.

The Plan is in Motion

2005-10-14T19:29:00.000-07:00

Finally , this week is over. Through walkie-talkies, the throwaway cells, and the good old fashioned passed note, the seven of us might be able to get together this weekend undetected. I cannot write long, I have a lot of work ahead to prep for Sunday.

RayMan had lunch with us on Thursday. He talks really fast, sometimes it's hard to keep up with him. Since we always make sure to have other people at the table with us during lunch so it doesn't draw attention, we kept things on a very superficial level. The main topic was that the Secretary of Foreign medicines had gone to New Orleans to tell people to stay away from herbs. Julianne told us that is why she was going over old herbal files, she had been instructed to get some dirt on alternative medicines.

"It's hard," she was complaining, "I really couldn't find any, and when I sent my report two weeks ago saying that everything was clean except ephedra, they told me to go into a different file, it was on a different disc, that the new guy had just filed it. Remember RayMan?"

RayMan had nodded, his eyes darting to the door for just a flash.

"Anyway," she continued, " I started working on the new file, and there was ALL kinds of shit, on herbs like Kava, Chamomile, St. Johns Wort, Valarian Root, you name it. I have never read these reports before, and I was instructed to compile them into an outline for a statement. Now I hear about some big town hall meeting with the Secretary of Foreign Meds. It's weird." She shook her head and took a big bite of her sandwich. I looked over at RayMan and he was looking at her, a contemplative look on his face.

"You look familiar" he said. "Weren't you married to...."

"Yes, yes, yes" Julianne waved her hand back and forth like she was swatting a fly. "After my series went off the air in '96, I wanted to go through one day without people asking me that question, so I thought I would do this for a while. I didn't know they were going to give me a new name, new identity." She sighed. "I also didn't think I would be here for nine years. You're the first person to ask me that in a long time, RayMan."

"I was a big fan," he smiled back. "I always wondered where you went".

Julianne looked around, meeting all of our eyes only briefly.

"So did I," she answered, taking another bite of her sandwich.

The New Guy

2005-10-11T17:57:00.000-07:00

I sat in my apartment Saturday until the mail came. The box arrived overnight, as Jordan had promised. All kinds of stuff from the counter-surveillance store. Walkie talkies, a bug detector (the place was clean) throwaway cell phones, and other gadgets that we will need later. We all swept our apartments and only then did we use the throwaways. We were undetectable, but I still had the jitters. Sunday I went grocery shopping, dutifully swiping out of the house. That was the part I had missed on Friday - we had to use the card whenever we left the house. The white coats explained it away with the most lame reason - that the swipe box was laser activated and if we did not swipe, our house alarms would go off. You have never seen such a large group of poker faced people as were on our floor that day.

Jordan and I "bumped into" each other at the market, where we stayed safely in the produce section, gently squeezing avocados while talking out of the side of our mouths. Thank god people shopping are so preoccupied with themselves, because we looked like nutcases. Anyway, we started on a plan on how to get us all together, and I think it is going to work, but we cannot execute it until next weekend. We parted ways and I went back to my house, swiping in. Go ahead, track my every move, assholes. You're on to us? We're on to you.

So today a new guy showed up for the filing job. He's been very quiet, but every time I turn around he seems to be near me. I started studying him out of the corner of my eye. Small, compact build, dark hair, very serious. Suddenly he glanced up and caught me looking at him.

"Uh, hi, we haven't met. I'm Peter," I stumbled. He had caught me off guard. His eyes were dark, inquiring, fiercely intelligent. He held out his hand.

"RayMan" he smiled briefly, a fleeting sweetness transforming his face into something elfin, mischievous.

"Nice to meet you, Ray," I answered.

"RayMan" he repeated. "One word".

"Oh, sorry, I thought you said...."

He waved his hand. "I get it all the time. Listen I have a question, got a minute?"

I nodded, thinking how appropriate the name was, really.

"The kid who had this job before me," RayMan lowered his voice, "took herbs, right?"

I barely nodded my head and began looking through the file cabinets for an old test processing disc.

"Can we drink chamomile tea at bedtime?" he turned to the file cabinet next to me, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"That's a strong negative".

RayMan nodded imperceptibly.

"The home swipe card. A new thing?"

"Yes". I answered tightly.

"Okay." He proceeded to move a few files down, busying himself with data sorting.

I turned to head back to my desk.

"Peter?" He turned towards me. "It was very nice to meet you," He held up a disc. "Thanks for helping me figure out where to file these".

I nodded. "No problem, RayMan. Welcome to the WME".

He locked his eyes with mine. "May I join you guys in the lunchroom sometime this week?"

"Sure," I answered, after a beat. "Come round anytime".

I got back to my desk, chewing on the inside of my lip. RayMan was no intern, he was too sharp, too together. He was on to something, was it us? How did he even know there was an "us" - asking to have lunch with "you guys". It's his first day here!
But there was something about him that felt like he was not one of "them" at all. I didn't know what to think. Jordan, Luka and Renee were in a meeting, Anacuerva and Sam were not at their desks, and although Julianne was sitting just five rows up from me, we all studiously avoided each other at work, I could find no good reason to approach her, she was on an old alternative medications case, where I was stuck going through all of the files on the Presidential Cocktail.

Who was this RayMan? I liked him, but the paranoia was barely manageable as it was. I resisted the urge to go to the lunchroom and grab a Vicoden - I really had to keep my wits on.

And how the hell did he know about the chamomile tea?

Why They Look So Happy

2005-10-07T15:03:00.000-07:00

Thank god it's Friday. After the poor St. Johns Wort Kid didn't come back to work yesterday after lunch, I just numbed it all out. That's one thing about this job - anything you need to numb out is usually right in the lunchroom, and if you want something special you can always request it from a junior associate. There are a few forms to fill out, but they're quick and standard, definitely worth it if you want an Oxy or two.

So I am sitting at my desk with that mellow loaded feeling, still able to input data but my mind is a million miles away, walking on the beach (before I knew about THIS place of course - I haven't walked on the beach since I started working here - all I can do is think of the people underneath me working overtime) making a special dinner for a few close friends, after dinner single malt scotch, music, reading in bed late at night.......my eyes were starting to droop slightly and my typing got slower. Jordan leaned over and pretended to grab the stapler, knocking into my chair.

"Peter!" His whisper was ragged. "Look sharp - they're coming in."

Six of the highest staff white coats walked through the double glass doors, their black shoes heavy, gleaming, their thick glasses masking the satisfaction their posture radiated.

"'Ladies and gentlemen," one man announced, "we have implemented a new clocking in system, it is very simple, you will hardly notice it."

He droned on for a bit, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was the oxy and my semi stoned state, but I felt like I had seen this guy before. Understand, this group hardly ever addresses us, it's almost always junior members, and junior junior members we deal with, and half the time they are just a revolving door blur of faces, numbers, testing facts, blah blah blah. I wouldn't know the guy that handed me the disk this morning any more than I'd know you. So you could probably think I was a stoned idiot, of course I would recognize him, he works here. You'd have to work here to understand that no, you don't recognize anyone who works here. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and didn't have a clue who the dude in the bathroom with me was.

So, this fellow starts calling out names, and people are getting up and forming a line. My name was called, I glanced at Jorden, his face was blank. I must have missed something. I got in line, and once we were all up, the guy flipped open a notebook and pulled out a bright red plastic card, holding it up high, turning it this way and that way.

"Now, we already have the box installed at your home, it is right by the doorbell. Simply clock in when you get home, and clock out when you leave for work in the morning. Then use your normal black clock in card when you get here. Any questions?"

Yes. I have a lot of questions, but they are for the few of us, Jordan, Anacuerva, Sam, Julianne, Renee and Luka. When we go have "drinks" we could talk, but I am getting the distince impression that we are to go straight home. My mind is not processing the full implications of what is going on here.

But my biggest question, the one that keeps looming larger as I step closer and closer to this nameless white coat, is why do I recognize him?

He handed me my card and smiled. It was the same glacial smile from the new platelet guy over a week ago, the one whom I had never seen before.

It was the same guy.

I just stood there, my hand not moving to take the bright red home swipe card.

"Is everything all right," he glanced down at his folder, "Peter? It is Peter, is it not?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir, everything is fine. Going swimmingly, in fact."

He chuckled, it was phlegm-y and horribly unpleasant. I took the card and made my way back to my cubicle.

The day I decided to tune it all out is the day they raised the stakes so high that numb is no longer an option.

Back at my desk Jordan leaned over.

"I've already got a plan, Peter. Don't worry."

I dry swallowed my second Oxy.

Don't worry, I wont.

TORTURE

2005-10-06T17:13:00.000-07:00

Working at this government pharmaceutical facility is torture. The job review was cancelled due to an "emergency meeting" called by the higher-ups - they all rushed down the hall, white coats flapping, looking excited. Whatever is good news for them is always bad news for us. I wish this day would end. A new kid showed up this morning for the filing position that had opened up yesterday, and he was yammering away about how he had struggled with depression for years, and now he was taking "St. John's Wort" and he has been feeling great. I tried to shut him up, telling him NEVER to talk about taking any kind of natural medicine around here, but he just gave me this blank look.

"Kid," I said, trying to be patient, "you work in the Weapons of Mass Euphoria department, don't you get it? You extol the virtues of what you are TOLD is good, what you are TOLD works, what you are TOLD to take!"

"But, but," he sputtered, "I thought the purpose of this department was about people's health and well being!"

I tried to explain again, lowering my voice, but it was no good. He just kept insisting that he had already tried all of the anti-depressants and the only thing that helped him was St. John's Wort.

I finally gave up - I was getting a headache, and I knew that after lunch the filing position would be open again.

Sure enough, it is.

Yeah, okay, the kid irritated me, he wasn't listening, he wasn't getting it at all, but I wish I had gotten his address so that I could perhaps someday visit his mother and shed some light on his disappearance.

A FEW GOOD MEDS

2005-10-03T17:47:00.000-07:00

My little underground excursion out of the full clutches of the Weapons of Mass Euphoria drug testing facility has gathered a few followers, and it's really nice to have the camaraderie and the company and solidarity in the knowledge that we are doing the right thing, but today we are anxiety-riddled, depressed and having an overall group freak out. This week we get evaluated. A full job write up, everything from performance, loyalty, obedience, and punctuality to being slaves at the monthly S&M parties. We think we have done exemplary work, but then we see some of our co-workers going the extra mile, staying late, wearing the little maids outfits on Fridays, while we sneak off for a "drink". One of the upper staff asked yesterday why we went out for drinks when we knew that since every single drug that we use clearly stresses avoiding alcohol - Oh god! I though I was going to have a heart attack. Luckily Jordan answered smartly that we were all enjoying Virgin Marys and Shirley Temples, nothing more. This staff member, Secretary to Someone, I cant keep any of it straight anymore, looked unconvinced, but what could she say? She just gave us the hairy eyeball and suggested we start putting in some overtime.

They're on to us, I know it. We're all going to get canned, and I don't mean fired.

My hands were shaking so badly that I finally had to go to the lunchroom and pour myself a nice cup of coffee and grab some Xanax from the candy dish.

Maybe I should have stayed in the film business.

Our protection

2005-10-01T17:25:00.000-07:00

He flies in on days when we need him the most.

We lived through it, sort of

2005-09-30T19:57:00.000-07:00

WE got out of this bi weekly ordeal, tired, alive.

WE HAD TO DO IT

2005-09-28T16:55:00.000-07:00

I swore I would not be tested again. But, after yesterday, the WME was doing really intense head counts. If I am not there I lose my job. It'a a good job, although I only work seven and one half hours a day, so therefore do not qualify for health insurance. When I wake up at two-thirty every night, I wonder about that rule, but in the light of day, guys, I have to keep my job.

What I do not understand is, they are testing a new drug for women - pre-menopausal, menopause, night sweats, mood swings, headaches, ........

Why are they testing me? I am am a guy!

It must go deeper, that maybe we're all the same.

If I said that at work, I'd be SO fired.

But why are they testing a woman issue one me????

Whatever. Jus gotta get through the day.

MY COMRADE IS GONE

2005-09-27T13:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, I have to breathe. WE are being strapped down tomorrow and I have to act normal. But the only person I trust is missing - I cannot find him anywhere. He already looks older than he is, haunted, scared. But he can tell a story that will have you on edge, laughing, and so damned nervous.........Somehow it always came out all right in the end.

And now I cannot find him. He's probably back at the house, petting the cat, and laughing at me for being such a trainwreck. Telling me to take the damned Lunesta, strap up for the WME's experimental nonsense, and live to be a ghostwriter.

I just don't know who the ghost is these days.

"Peter," Jordan will say, "You worry too much."

I'M ALIVE!

2005-09-26T11:43:00.000-07:00

I made it home, I think I was followed, I don't know. I am going to have to go to the next roll call for the "Strap Down" or they'll get suspicious. The WME is starting to talk about a new group of pharmaceuticals that are going to be tested on us soon. I must co-operate, they cannot know that I am the leak. I can hardly breathe, where's my inhaler??

Fellow Americans - I strongly suggest you get a prescription for the same cocktail the President is on - remember, the Kolonopin, Librex, and Thorazine. I know you probably don't need it, but just smile wistfully at your M.D. and say something like," President Bush is doing so well at his job, he has raised the bar insofar as job performance, and I would like to be the best employee I can be - something along those lines. It will get back to the WME and they will be so busy patting each other on the back they will forget about me. They don't know my name anyway, but I cannot count on that. If you want to keep getting the real scoop, you've got to help me. Help me help you.

God help......

I mean, God Bless us all.

I MADE A MISTAKE

2005-09-25T15:18:00.000-07:00

Oh boy. I have been following WME orders, taking the meds the higher ups tell me to take, and last night I took what I thought was my Lunesta. I realized after I had taken it that I had accidentally taken an Ambien, which is exactly the same drug except that the patent for Ambien is up soon and so Lunesta is the one to push, so Merck and the gang can rake it in, obviously. Who do you think signs our weekly paychecks? (Well, one of those guys, or the government, I don't know, whatever).

So last night I had trouble sleeping, maybe the Ambien was old, but I think when I realized my mistake, I panicked. Started pacing. Maybe I should have taken a Lunesta, but I was afraid to take another dose of a sleeping pill. Restless night sleep.

Today, I went to the blood donor place to give platelets. My weight is always fine, just on the line to donate, my blood pressure is low (probably all of the drugs), and my iron is always very, very high. I eat my body weight in meat every day, and I have a wildly high iron count. Also twice as many platelets as the average person. The average count is in the 240-ish range, mine is in the 460 range (again, probably a mutant because of all of the WME's testing on us). ANYway I have been donating platelets for over year. It just makes me feel good to help.

Today the nurse came to me as I was settling into my chair, all hooked up and ready to donate, when she told me my iron count was too low and I was being turned away. She began to unhook me, carefully coiling up the tubing, not looking at me.

I asked, somewhat plaintively, "What do you mean? My iron is fine, how could this be? There must be a mistake!"

I realized as I was sputtering my confusion, I looked at this nurse. I had never seen her before. Her smile was ice.

"I'm so sorry, Wild," she answered, then her eyes went utterly flat. "Perhaps you didn't get enough sleep last night. That can deplete iron. And you cannot help others when you have not had enough sleep."

I suddenly felt nauseated. Somehow they knew. I could almost smell Chertoff and Eudaimonia on the premises. I looked at the man across from me, all hooked up, no problems. Usually they hover over new people, and I had never seen him donating before. He stared back at me, the same flat look on his face.

I MADE A MISTAKE!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!

About Lunesta

2005-09-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

It helps you sleep, but there are things the WME is not reporting! You sleep in really late, and wake up feeling useless!

I don't know, it is only my experience, but I think that if you take Lunesta, DO NOT look at butterflies. There is a butterfly in the commercial, and it touches the sleeping people. I looked at butterflies the evening before, and the next morning was really harsh. Please, people, listen to the WME, take your Lunesta, but pay attention to the side effects.

DO NOT LOOK AT BUTTERFLIES.

The WME is in a meeting about this issue, and they do not know if it will extend to looking at other objects that might bring pleasure. For now, just dont look at anything.