You know they're real, right? They really are behind everything that happens in the world. They really do have purposes and secrets you could never imagine. They see us all the time, everything we do. They leave us alone, for the most part, as long as we stay out of their way. They've always been there, and they always will be.
I am often beset with an inexplicable suspicion that everyone in the world thinks I'm paranoid. This is an irrational anxiety, I know, but the pressure of so many eyes on me all the time, so many reports being made on everything I do, so many black sedans following me around after dark, this pressure gets to me after a while. I want to tell them all, "I'm not paranoid, damn you! Leave me be!" They'd never let my message get out, though. I'm trapped in their web.
Somewhere in a loud, busy dirt street in Asia, a young local man carrying a black satchel steps briskly over a dog sleeping in the gutter and turns, weaving between the yammering sellers and buyers, to disappear down an alley. Across the street, a white face in sunglasses watches him go and then looks down to the corner, where another white face gives him a nod. He speaks something into the mic hidden near in his shirt collar and starts across the street toward the alley.
Meanwhile, a world away, a phone call: "What's he doing now, Briggs?" "He's typing on his laptop. He'll probably post something on his blog in a few minutes." "If he does, get it to the boys in cryptography. I want a full report on my desk by 10:00." "Will do. Briggs out."
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
