This country has just been enacted, given independence from the British. For all the centuries that India existed, it was just CIA for me, But now it is India. Something that is real. Something that can hit me, and cause real injury. So I stay put away from it. I still use stuff called R, and never appear on its scanners. It is known to have purported several attacks on me since birth. But they come to take me as R. Then they hit me, with a politics that Sir calls, people coming here, the mishap, then people leaving this place, giving me some relief, I heal later when I give to them through a computer. They are social, that’s where they found me. So I stay aloof, no family, no religion, not social at all. I can’t leave this country, can’t leave where I live. They are concrete. I’ll die if I don’t give to them. But it is a very modern cover up that takes form for me in some newsroom, and later transforms into people in a house, being social, calling me son. I find it obnoxious. Their lies are so thin. I have to give to them, or they’ll scream and shout, make my life hell. Take me back to the dark ages, they’ll go ape and hitting me with violent gas and concentration camps. They’re ugly and stinky. They keep annoying me and scaring me all the time. I have to take a lot of blame, and keep my confidence low here. Or they’ll go ape and wreck havoc for me.

This is agency of The West. For me it is something that is a ghost protocol, meaning it does not exist. Because the West does not exist either. It was built on the premise, that it would stay always something for me, that I can’t have, or cannot possibly ever comprehend, or reach or achieve. Things that I cannot understand or perceive is what all this is about. Sir calls them knm. These are the things that are the computer or echelon for me here. When they cover up, they are a country or a set of countries called USA, UK, EU, Australia, Canada, who want more land from or are at war with the former Soviet Union. That’s nothing for me. It is waste paper from the Russian Federation. Who they really are is Nick Jones, RT America, stuff that does not exist in those countries. So I can’t find them on the map. They start as something that is knm, elusive, later they turn it into something that you watch or do, someone you can’t have, called R. Then that further, when brought to me by Sir, turns into a mishap for me. Leading to fatal injuries, even death for me. So I must evade it at all costs. That is the only goal that they have for me, and also the only goal I have for me is to evade them no matter what. They coming out as Langley, Virginia, or NATO in the News means nothing to me either. So all this turns into a proxy war. In a construct that they call reality. They never come out in the open about any of this. Because they don’t know. And even if they know that is also another R for me. So I am CIA.

A computer, really advanced, not the kind you could have seen or used ever. Something like a supercomputer mainframe that you reach in a building complex, then log into, and complete a service or job card, transaction. That’s how you give to him. Then he’ll start working like before, would be able to find you and go ahead with his campaign of staying jealous staying arrogant and staying covered up. If you’ve evaded or not accepted his way, then you give to him, then he’ll move along, without haying you. Otherwise he’ll kill. K

They want their way, I should fit exactly into their cover up, they keep looking for me, where they find me is what, they give to me. They get their way with me, they win, that’s what they give. And all of this is brought to me by Sir. They’re not here to live or survive, only to stay jealous of good people. And they kill. Staying arrogant all this while. They stay covered up. That’s a deadly set of rules that they exhibit. Do I even have a chance here, this thing is a machine, nothing will go through to him, you can’t bargain with it, you can’t evade him either. He’ll get his way, even if it takes several years or iterations or several of him. You can think of them as a certain race of humans dedicated to be bad like the west, but later turns out to be good, and world leader, and I’m the dead guy here, taking blame and guilt, for the better good of all. You can’t fight this thing, you only stay put, and avoid his constantly scanning prying stare.

All these years of news current affairs, just keeping myself up to date, or getting the right info, so that I can move around, get more job skill, get proficient at work and the city. But they’ve been working for the police, the people. They want stuff to happen. Putting me in news, finding out who or where I live, what I do. Why don’t they already know any of this, they’re the cops the government. If they want to race me then kill me right away. Why not. Living off the grid, I never let any of those news people near me. They stink of terrorism, accidents and mishaps. That’s all they want. Why can’t they just let me go, and not be some small time prick. What’s the difference anyway? So I’ve thrown away news people years ago, they’re just bad news nothing more. I’ve been attacked by them before, several times all over my life. It’s weird psycho sensation, that I’ve been messed up by something corossive hot violent. It isn’t a man, just some really bad people. You can call them the state, government, cops, reporters, doctors, or just civilians. They’re a freak show. They don’t feel real too me anymore. Just a bunch of criminals, they have no soul. No emotions. Just fake, covered up. We are already here, this is the future. Stay put. They only come to take me, I must evade them, what they want, is end of mankind. Nothing less, I can feel that, cold.

20th Century AD, about 1989. The world is modern now. It is triads, TV, Movies, Games, Satellaties, Space Shuttles and shit. The arrogant state, only Cold War. People dying on their own. Or getting blow to bits and pieces in news and internet. This now, this the age of Cable TV. What do you do, how do you survive here. Everything here is politics, terrorism, gangsters, shock and awe. The Terminator. West is here all over the world. Everywhere. How do you survive, these cars, police patrols, guns and violence. Everyone is under surveillance, taped and recorded. This whole government is built for one thing. So that police can arrive, directly or indirectly. Times running out. You can’t escape the authorities. They are watching us. They have to come. Crime must happen. It can’t be evaded or postponed. What if they’re the ones doing it. Why not escape to a space base. The civilians are all social.

Why is there a doctor in the house? Not yet. I need some medicine. During the day, people come, they just keep hitting me in the stomach, and head. They’re not good people, their lies are as thin as the services they provide. What to do of them. In this dark medivial town, witch craft, trickery, and voodoo magic, only kills. It’s 16 century AD. The barberics mostly women, and very foul men, don’t show up good. Zombies, and black magic tantricks. Killing and robbing people. In this dark town in transylvania it is the work of that Count Dracula. Bastards wrecheds wicked fiendish kowls, dark practices and evil naked seductive women on the walls. Hissing feeding on the blood of men. Shadows of the undead. Their is no लः escaping them. They must have your insides out before they hatch out of their nests. This swamp is not getting any better. Foul stinking, venon striken, bat’s, dogs, lizards, snakes and vampires. Wanting to feast on your vital organs. The doctor is their priest an agent who keeps them away. Over the years and centuries all of them have forged an alliance with doctors and scientists. In their modern incarnation, abuse us with lame, science and वः money.

Why I keep thinking about God? What is it there, that I want. Then something tells me I should live within my means, respect nature, listen to and feel life on Earth. Recognize signs and clues, act on them, to the best of my abilities. Live with people as a whole. Even during my darkest hours, not leave or abandon, people. Then knowing all that fight arrogant and subversive forces, as knight. Keeping the Faith.

Now the blog focuses on Sir ke Log only. How the characters in the blog meet this team of marines who train me then they bring people here, that leads to a mishap, the suffering and pain, survival on my own, then meeting the rescue party, after which people leave. This causes relief and healing for me. It should remain in the realm of fiction so that it stays adherent to some internet commercialization model.

Normally, I would keep riding in the storm, in the world, nobody is there, it is filled with people, who are not aware of me. So they are of no threat to me. But I can’t approach anyone, as they are in their own, too busy, for me to disturb them in anyway. Just my dad. I keep calling him on the phone. He gives me the same NATO chatter, sounds like a modem, clicking, rotating, then, hitting on the drum like a printer, like in the old days. I never really understood what he ever said, though, but it felt so great, like home, a machine that keeps me safe here. After the computers got commercialized, and the laptops cellphones then smartphones appeared in the market, that chatter of that old machine, became more and more exclusive. I would therefore call home often, to get some of that Wes. The real West however is much more different, it kills actually, nothing more. It is just volumes and volumes of low confidence then death in some non-sense way, like I’m no good, nothing. Before you enter the real West, a team of people called Sir ke Log, meet me, otherwise I was just a loner. How did I learn anything in life, if not them, Then they go away and turns up the West that just starts killing me. It Kills. So I have to evade them all the time, never meet anyone, and never talk to anyone. Just ride in the highway, like no destination, off the grid.