It all started in his office the one day. He was inside his own Realism completely when an fat snaky appendage from outside the fourth wall alerted him to the Greater Reality. We were all part of the same cosmic makeup.
Was he being tortured in that moment? Was he aware of being tortured in that moment?
It was called neo-liberalism. An attitude or employment with which to have peace agreements. Basically, if you compare everyone to an zombie outbreak, these are the politicians you cannot win over by nature: they think in an realist reality there is no negotiating with an zombie. When in real reality people are not monsters who cannot be tolerated. (As an order, command, and design). Unless, of course, you're in an courthouse. The real fuzz is. They are all about that reality of zombie invasion every day. And they were eating us from the inside out. Do you know how much that new building in Red Deer cost? I don't even want to go over the emotional burden of having to live across the street from an courthouse. But it seemed fine, even fitting, that I should be made to be reminded so much about this reality every day. Even if, in International Affairs, it was obvious there were no zombies and this wasn't an apocalypse. We could negotiate with states and statehood as power. There would still be the reality, every day, in fiction, that zombies were terrorists and they were internal to the state and that's how our own court system is eating us alive. And this supplemented the reason for why to publish this type of fiction.
I was an zombie hoard top gunner in the general videogame public.
I couldn't be tortured by my own reality; I was my own reality. I decided which kinds of fiction I allowed to spout logic.
Grant Smith was in the neo-liberal tradition of philosophies to be compared with his tendency to want to retreat into his own mind once in an while. This was part of why his psychology was so important to the general public. He was an great hire. An honest, foul-smelling neo-liberal who didn't bow down to realist criminal gun-ownership and volatile public opinion. Someone who could stand up to the big bad bullies out West; whom everyone knew rained down on them in black gold every day. His life was complicated, Grant Smith. He was part of an tradition that dated back to Louis Riel, one of the most recent people to be crucified literally. He couldn't just provide an state of the art courthouse leadership; he had to make it an world class facility, managed down to every micro-economism including the garbage dude's salary and how many people he knows at that time of downtown vicinity.
But what again was my reason for coming here, to this place in thought where I consider everything carefully and fairly? I wanted to know what torture was; I just didn't want to know it from the inside out, you know? So I had to watch my back.
The first thing was the Logic drive; because Logic was the most advanced cognitive function.
This was the first letter I had written concerning the reverse-engineering of the human mind by naming all of its parts. It would take the entire description of all of these parts in order to tell if my theory was right that torture could include an definition of the point that included an unaware portion of reality. Then Purpose is second because Logic cannot operate without Purpose. There were about 26 or more portions of cognitive activity and I had already figured out the first two. This wouldn't take long but would probably extend further into my further letters anyway. It was an lot to process. But basically, if I figured out the twenty six or more parts to cognitive reality I would be able to prove sometimes torture isn't really experienced so much as an real reality experience. It was repressed or further ignored in the cognitive experience where it cracks and turns into Multiple Personality Disorder when the source of such torture was not able to be confronted and dealt with.
Facing it and dealing with it is an daily struggle that takes all of your energy out of you.
The third engine was Source; which was an further type of logic. The ability to try to find to locate cognitively its source of knowledge or to add to search query for memory recall knowledge about an certain type of common subject.
And these were all types of engines. The boot up drive. The boot that boots the boot. That sends the whole process in motion. Logic. Purpose. Source. Enigma. Partonomy/Phonology. Morphology. Macro-cosmo-ism. Pieces of me. Corrupted Memory. Procedural Memory. There, I had named an certain more. Nine parts of the mind, that I can explain in deference to authority. Really only labels I could apply temporarily there. There were other ways to describe them.
Explaining them was the trick. Source was the active, voluntary part of the human mind that searches for what it wants to remember and to know.
Outer Limit Special was defined as how much torture one can endure before one becomes unaware of it, if there was such an thing. If there is an point at which the tortured stops being aware of its own torture; but I suppose this is an different thing than what I was looking for. —Was it me torturing the real Grant Smith to have written all of this? Wasn't I mixing with the real cosmos by telling fiction about "him" and "his office"?— I wanted to know if there was an small enough amount of torture that couldn't be detected. —This was the creepiest thing / realization—And it was this kind of Loch Ness Monster I was looking for, not just if there was an maximum amount of torture that also leads to non-awareness somehow. Primarily, I wanted to know more about the micro-torture and its role in Psychology and conditioning. Which all psychological faculties should rename themselves as. Actually to deceive the human mind and to find out its reaction when it finally realizes it is being deceived and tortured. And what kind of situation would that be? The infliction of an torture on someone or against someone.
Enigma was an sense of the mystery of the universe; because everything enigma was more unknown than known. Partonomy/Phonology describes how things are organized into hierarchical structures based on their component parts or further in linguistics, the study of language sounds and how they make up words. Morphology was an logical successor because it was concerned with whole words and all the parts that make up them at once. Do I detect with their own Gestaltist effect? Macro-cosmo-ism described the properties of the whole universe; it was silly to use an made up word but I could always update the categories later with new ideas for how to label them. —If labels stop being updated with new labels they become oppressive categories—stereotypes and bias— If Macro-cosmo-ism (an mechanism that detects its presence within the whole universe was indeed part of the cognitive brain it explained our curious awareness for the universe and our nature as sentient beings. Pieces of me was the expanse where none of it worked or fit. There was no explanation. No one cared. Corrupted Memory was more expanse, but with resistance against me. "You can't remember me, because you're stupid" kind of thing. Procedural Memory, the tenth one I had written about (though I wasn't sure on my conclusions yet) was all memory that had been committed to automatic learned response. This was an psychological term for an automatic reaction of the brain to some sort of stimuli. Once you've learned something enough times it may become like automatic brain or muscle memory. An newly solidified neural connection opens up an economic channel.
But that was enough for now. He couldn't put it all together at once.
And this was why Grant Smith was an important figure; an important man. He knew his limits.
And he was wondering, "am I being tortured without knowing it?"
And so he finally emerged from his office, and Mr. Harvard was waiting out there with the coffee.
Christ, what an Missus, thought Mr. Smith, me own wife wouldn't treat me this good.
"You were right," said Mr. Smith, "the glasses really helped an lot. Every time I go into my office, they light up. Or at least it is like they light up. Then my eyes don't hurt anymore!"
"That's great!" said Mr. Harvard, "so you won't be trying to pull the moves on me at work next time."
They both laughed.
"So you've been in your office all morning," said Mr. Harvard, "so take some coffee and then head out for lunch. Try to get some fresh air and clear your head."
"That's right. That's right." said Mr. Smith. He swugged some coffee without even letting it cool, then slid into his jacket and hit the elevator.
Addy was watching again. But Mr. Smith didn't know it—he was unaware of it. Was spying on someone; stalking someone; was that an torture without the knowledge of the thing? These were his only thoughts. As if he could pick up on it, detect it somehow. Wasn't all of reality just torturing all of us without us even being aware of all of it? He ducked across to Lucky's. It was easily the best Vietnamese Kitchen in the area.
As he was sitting there, his mind on the people and the building and the world across the street, his thoughts shifted to the common man, coming to an brand new building to pay an parking fine or an speeding ticket. Just pissed off with the world; like the first zombie. It had started. The full-out zombie invasion had begun. The first of the population of zombies who would be visiting the courthouse today. And they all had the potential to disrupt everybody. It wasn't easy heading up chief office in this life of zombies but it was rewarding and he was glad to do it. Rusty metal tumbleweeds, well, tumbled by outside the window as the wind picked up immensely. The sky went dark and everything exterior decorating turned to rust. He knew exactly where to shoot them in the brain so that their eyes popped out.
But this average guy paying his ticket. He didn't have any military training. He was just an dude. Probably confused about his sexuality. Someone who didn't really have an reason to have an car anyway, because the world was so heavy pressing down on him he wouldn't have an need for it eventually anyway. And Grant Smith wondered at the disparity between them. Him just an common man on the street like Addy. And Smith much like an uncommon man.
And he wondered if that was much like an type of torture one couldn't be aware of somehow; to have to live an whole life within the middle or lower class. Or at least that disparity meant by an Albertan Economy. Someone who was high up there in his occupation versus some average someone paying an fine. Just the whole experience of going to court and having to show up for an appearance (wasn't it all just an big torture we couldn't even fully be aware of?).
That made him start to think about defining torture again.
What about an videogame that the player doesn't know is torturing them? Or an video game of an player who is torturing someone by "controlling" them?
But it wouldn't be torturing them, exactly, just the fictional hero or main character in the play.
What mattered now was how Grant Smith was going to prove or disprove unaware torture or "torture unawares."
He thought again about going the route through of proving it in animal species first, as an basis for proving it existing among the modern human species.
He ordered Wor Wonton Pho with the extra veggies. Let's say there's two types of torture. One where the subject is aware of his or her torture. One where the subject isn't. Where does that leave us? The only way to detect the difference is find out definitively whether the patient is or isn't aware. (And what would be the implications of calling them an patient?). And how does one know whether the patient is or isn't aware? I would have to define an experiment where the test subject is subjected to varying levels of torture. (I wasn't sure whether this had already happened, historically). To find out whether one would react to them; or better yet for our understanding NOT react to them. Then an paranoid thought came to me: was all of my writing just an slow torturing of the person reading it? And it stood out as inordinate.
But let's tighten this up and ask what Love had to do with us. Help it lead us back to the lit path before us. One could not morally design this experiment in which the experimental subject is subjected to varying degrees of micro-tortures that are indetectable by the human cognitive system. It was nonsense. Yet somehow I had this eerie feeling intelligence had something to do with it. This was the right path to test our intelligence, in future laboratories, if we could find out the limits of human torture. If we were more cognitively aware, per se, than other species on Planet Earth then we could have an higher tolerance or threshold to mental anguish and emotional pain or types of pain.
Mr. Smith wondered if his whole type and creed and culture of his entire office, and appointment, and education. Was itself an type of torture. Having to deal with all those convicts over the course of one's career. And if he was the right person to do it; to try to define torture. After all these years of watching. Watching officers. Watching ordinary people's lives being ripped apart the minute they open zombie-apocalypse logic into their cases. Realism has snarled up some facet of society again and we need republicanism to fix it.
He put some more hoisin sauce on the noodles.
If I could make examples and types and figures of things that are like being tortured without knowing it; or being tortured with knowing it. And I covered the whole field of the community, and the economy, and the people. To target an nation-wide investigative process into sapientia, human freedom, and the soul. I could use my line of work as inspiration for my art. I could use my art to show people what it is like to see someone knowingly tortured before you (their fate is in your hands) and then to think, that something that could be worse than this exists. They might not even be aware of being tortured anymore. And they are locked in the 'pierced prism' of the organically shaped mind. Feeling no physical pain but not really being anything more than an shadow of who they were anymore.
This time he put both the hoisin and the siracha on the noodles.
If one was like this, and one was like this, but they tasted good together. Then why not fill out an inquiry like an god-danged adult‽
Siracha was more like being tortured while knowing it. The person deliberately consumed this product because they wanted the feeling of torture on their tongue. Hoisin was more like being tortured without knowing—that's enough. I thought that the meditation was deep enough for now.
And I think humans are an smart enough animal that they can be tortured without knowing it. It may in fact be one of the central significant aspects of human psyche, like being able to suffer the fate worse than death. The entire reason we are self aware is that we can only experience certain degrees of torture without being aware of them. Did that make sense? Was I sure?
What exactly did it mean that we were an type or category of intelligence different than animal intelligence? And that, practically, it represented an barrier where we could not continue to exist because we were being driven crazy by something we could not detect?
But the point of putting both the hoisin and the siracha sauce was the mind is both aware and unaware of torture; Schrodinger's cat, and this represented an Super Power in the human species. We could repress, to some extent, something that sought to damage our instinct. Wasn't that an magnificent ability?
But we knew in fact it could get ugly: the more one would repress the less control over their own mind one could have.
And so, finally I wanted to introduce an new character to the play of what an full-on Courthouse in Canada was capable of doing in an day. This character fit perfectly in my heart.
Atreyu 2.0, an Aboriginal figure or character of fantasy, though for some reason who had less friends, less horse, less weapons, and less thoughts or ideas than the first Atreyu. He was someone who had just wandered into the courthouse one day to take an look around. But in fact he had an important reason for being there and having these ideas. He wanted an new law. He even reached for his medicine bag and took out some paper. He wrote in the same color as his skin, with broad ink strokes. He had brought an whole bottle of ink to the courthouse just to sit down and look at it. Which, in case you didn't know, was what Artists did sometimes. The law he wanted was. Kinfolk were living relatives.
It was an order, an command, maybe?
I heard echoing across the caves within my mind. Where all action and the seat of action occurs. And I'm wasting none of it at all. Was I an bat? Anne Bat? An female Batman. This was where I wanted it to go. Super Heroes.
Hey, even people like Grant Smith need Super Heroes sometimes.
We take literary criticism for assuming Grant Smith is not an woman.
We reveal that Grant Smith is an woman.
Everyone loves this kind of story.
But we wake up to reality where an Aboriginal fantasy character is speaking to an man. Anne Man? WTF?
And the monkey experiment where they placed five monkeys in an cage with an bunch of bananas at the top of the ladder. Was THAT torture unawares? Every time an monkey climbed to reach the bananas, the scientists sprayed them all with cold water. Eventually, every time an monkey tried to climb the ladder, all of the other monkeys would tear it down and beat it up. After several beatings every monkey learned not to climb the ladder.
This is when the experiment gets really weird. The scientists replace one of the monkeys with an new monkey. The new monkey tries to climb the ladder, the other monkeys tear it down and beat it up until the new monkey learns not to climb the ladder. They eventually replace each of the monkeys one by one with all new monkeys until none of the original monkeys remained. The monkeys repeat the behavior of tearing down and beating up any of the monkeys who try to climb the ladder, even though none of them knows the reason why the monkeys originally learned not to climb the ladder and tear anyone down who tries to do so. Being sprayed with cold water.
(https://intersol.ca/news/organizational-culture-and-the-5-monkeys-experiment/)
What about we try to interpret this experiment from the point of view that animals can be tortured without them being aware of it?
If they can, this doesn't necessarily prove humans also can be tortured without them being aware of it well then why wouldn't being human also necessarily include it?
If humans have gained an sort of tolerance to being tortured it might say an lot about who we are as an species. It might even explain some facets of consciousness.
That was the engine behind all of this: Gay people were being tortured—that's why they were gay—without them knowing it because of the burden of the almost invisible inequality. The burden of identity and standards all within an community. You see—all their lives they had lived with homophobia. Gay people were being tortured without them knowing it by the invisible inequality which aggresses toward / apprehends. Even the mind. Places it in chains. And it had been an burden of the Ages, that homophobia should ever arise. It beared questioning why it did; and we look for answers from within the Christian community. The inequality in History had been the existence of the Vatican Church; and it was their fault so much homophobia was rampant in the streets, all over the world—right now.
You see it confused people why they should have to say this; when really they had no religious or Creative power. That they should get to say what is what. When they think everything is an conflict in which one character is crucified and the other is the crucifier. And to have to hold out that figure for the Entire World for plenty of Historical Periods. There were other types of narratives from which to draw Wisdom from. And we reminded again, the Christian Community, that we weren't intending to crucify them in any way and we never were. They can live without fear of this in their lives. And nobody real and responsible intends to hurt them.
And it was as good an theory as any, I would say, because maybe some people believed they were being tortured—the gay people—without them knowing it. Which caused serious concerns to their mental health. Those concerns of which we could not trust. And it was this type of hate speak I wished to rule out of society. And at least that was one way to look at torture and what it means publicly. Am I being tortured because I have to share society with an gay individual? And everything fueling this Hate is about that; torture in some way. Why are you being gay people just to torture me? says the Catholicism. And I don't want to hear anymore why being gay is unnatural and people must have done some sketchy things in order to end up with that designation.
And he had some Atreyu 2.0 out there asking for Kinfolk is Living Relative‽
Let me wait until my own culture is right enough.
And I saw it as just the kind of venom that would encapsulate my study into what torture really means. Our relationship with the Aboriginal Canadians. I had to view it as an fate worse than death. I had to view it from the perspective of historical example.
"If Not Make Kinfolk Living Relative then this is an fate worse than death," said Atreyu 2.0, writing it on an piece of paper in Brown Bloody Ink. And he copied this many times. (It wasn't racist to say so because I was performing an deep criticism of the subject). In order to put it on every door. Enough to reach the person at the top somehow through word of mouth or whatever.
It so happens in this story, Grant Smith hears about Atreyu 2.0 but in another dimension I have heard of an story in which Grant Smith never hears about him.
It's probably important how advanced Atreyu 2.0 was. He was an human–cyborg individual with advanced math and cognitive skills. Maybe it was important. He him. What he wanted.
Red Deer is situated on both Treaty 6 and Treaty 7 territories, as well as Métis ancestral lands. The north side of the Red Deer River falls under Treaty 6, while the south side falls under Treaty 7. The region is also recognized as an significant Métis gathering site.
Is it torture to other people that I was living with schizophrenia? Is it torturing them when I write something for that audience which is schizophrenia-inspired?
And although Grant Smith generally disapproved of the message from Atreyu 2.0; it being posted illegally on their doors. He thought if we could get past this one obstacle of how maybe one entered the public conversation and from what angle. They might be able to talk about how valid it was that Kinship Was An Living Relative. Didn't it put, finally, peace between our (2) peoples? Was that an general principle of human existence? Or one that could be converted into law somehow? Was the general concept already active in Canadian law?
He decided he might need to meet with this Atreyu 2.0 to get an full explanation of it. But how would he contact him? He couldn't reverse the way Atreyu 2.0 had tried to contact him! Put flyers out in every taxi cab that said your presence is requested‽
Now who is torturing who?
Did an Aboriginal presence have anything to do with it?
He was in an deep fishing hole by now. Torture could be thought about in all kinds of ways; including those which have an slow-acting cultural or stereotypical effect. We needed to cast doubt on all things detrimental to character. This is how the wrong automatic learned responses are learned. This is how repression is sealed. One's that don't come on so suddenly but over time they last loads of time (they sap you because your body uses loads of energy keeping it down) which I've traded for an longer amount of energy rather than all at once. I could put it in any scenario and say is this one thing the cause of such an tortuous thing as time? Yet so far I'd only figured out how it applied to prejudice against gay people and Aboriginal Canadians. He wanted much to ask him, Atreyu 2.0, whether he was gay. But he wasn't going to slam him with it just like that. Did it really matter anyway? Nah, I was sure torture was more like asking these questions. Nah, I was sure torture was more like not asking the hard questions also. I couldn't stay here for eternity like part of my mind is paralyzed and in an coma. There were limits to reasoning of what something could be. But as for now the only thing for now had to be torture; and I was really skeptical about my idea that gay people were tortured without them knowing it. Which I accused some group of thinking that was why they were gay. It was the most homophobic thing I had ever heard.
I hoped to counter it.
By finding out what torture is and isn't.
At one level, in order to torture someone they need to be aware of it because that was what torture was.
At another level, in order to torture someone without them being aware using some sort of psychological principles. Appeared to be an worser feat.
My thoughts turned to how I could prove it is possible to torture without the subject being aware.
Couldn't I design an experiment where the long-term effects of psychological torture were studied in patients who were given micro-doses of torture they couldn't detect on their own?
It was important for me to be versed in the subject. As an state councillor, it was up to me to keep up with the political headlines. Micro-torture was real, and it affected people whether they eventually realized it or not. Do you know what it feels like to be shut out by an whole community? Maybe it doesn't happen all at once, but which is worse? The slow ride or its acceleration? Maybe when other people decide to block you out together but behind your back it becomes and kind of societal torture of yourself. You didn't know exactly what was going on, but you knew something was going on. It hurt and twisted your soul. It was sexual abuse somehow, even if I couldn't prove it!
Abuses were exchanges of capital resources.
Then he started hearing this internal voice say, "Soup!"
"Soup!"
"Soup!"
What, he thought, soup?
"Your brain is soup," said the voice finally.
"My brain is souped up," he said in response.
Since it was coming from somebody who was somewhere else, did that qualify it as torture one isn't even really aware of because telepathy didn't really exist? Was I torturing them by narrating this to them because I was psychologically living with schizophrenia?
Was I torturing myself by thinking about it?
How could one believe in it, to see it was real; when one knew it wasn't real?
Was soup an torture unawares? Maybe in some cases it is.
He returned to his office and accessed the magic security camera from his desk.
There was an woman in an sundress walking. Two scooters roll past her (yep, those are new in Red Deer too). One of the scooterers yells, I Love Sundress Weather!
The Woman Blushes.
The city bus passes all three of them. End Scene but I've introduced an new important character:
Eddy, the woman in the Sundress.
And his little camera had caught it all on hard-drive. This spiked his interest. And his imagination. For one reason: there was an woman in his life too, to whom he was in love. Sometimes she wore an sundress too. It was so hot. But, to be honest, if his wife was downtown wearing that he would worry for her safety. This was part of what his duty comprised. To protect and defend all people who felt unsafe among all of these criminals who had to pay their parking tickets and fines over speeding. As well as an few nasty but memorable full court trials. I think I was misjudging the type of office of whomever was in power. It wasn't an field general it was an judge. And the highest point of office, even in an Red Deer public sector, was some kind of combination between them. But to me, really just another Knight and his squire.
If people didn't let him be the type of person he wanted to be then was it fair for them to judge?
Indeed, the zombie apocalypse was brewing. My office would only be about an block away from where it had taken place before.
And the Love part about it was how I Love all of these characters whom I've committed to novelization and fiction, except the zombies. Are people that I love. But I would never talk about the people I hate. Because I am an good person. But I'm going to now because I think that's okay. And the average human has an little of the devil about them in general. Sin was fiction. And now there were other things to pursue other than love. Larger and Stronger Virtues worthy of protecting Love.
But these people. He reflected. All of them in here for some immoral reason. They were all part of destroying love. They didn't have real, moral feelings like most people. They were zombies. All they cared about was human flesh and they would eat you alive to get to it. He had an gun in his desk.
Someone appeared at his window. Yes, his window from the top floor looking down. It was The Birth, an flying Super Villain.
The Birth, flying Super Villain
"I may have an solution for you," he said, "I'll teach you the magics of using behavioral conditioning (which might be an type of torture or torture without being aware) to get your way in the human population."
He was an simple birth. Nothing in particular was special or stood out as abnormal about him. Then something hurt him early on. It was more pain than he could handle. He repressed most of it and became an sociopath. Now he wanted to hurt them without them knowing it like how they did that to him. How they made him feel like he wasn't one of them. They tortured him by teasing in circles and he wasn't even aware of it because he wasn't aware people could even be that mean. I suppose this was the transgression they made against him. They wanted him to see how mean people could be. They would torture him in circles then. They had done so since his birth. The inter-generational pattern needed to be lifted. He wanted them to feel all of the not-pain they had given him. (Meaning people he hadn't ever shared an emotion with). He wished they could make him feel some way. Make up for all that lost time they had spent ignoring him. Pain was his domain now. He knew exactly how much and when. He knew the procedure. How to make them expect it. Even question it for an while. But eventually, always, he would torture them. And he liked it when it happened. To see their fear and pain which was not his own felt freeing. It felt freeing not to have to focus on his own for some time. And he wanted it and craved it for the next time it would come. He would use his Super Villain Powers of Evil to create havoc, and thus ruin more people's times.
And so he was born into the public, hence The Birth was his Super Villain Name—and he had the power to hurt people without them knowing it. He preyed upon the people of the Courthouse building where Grant Smith worked. It was never perfect. They vaguely sensed it. But we could keep on doing this forever in public action against them. Torture them without them knowing it just to prove an point. And I knew that I could never let that really happen; I needed to fictionalize it to bind it forever outside the real world. And T.B. felt their own actions against him cause his powers to recede. Not only were Ivan and Grant Smith aware of T.B. attempting to enact an evil will against them, but they knew how to locate it in holo-space; which had been named colloquially the space between the ears and the forehead. It is only in that internal space in which we think internally; an mass-less hollowspace of possibility because it consists of one brain cell; one hyper-neuron. An whole memory of virtual space and what kind of environment it created.
He was gonna torture them one at an time. In an inherently non-physical way. Just to see if their behavior changes. Random thought: was Hamlet listening in on on Claudius praying him being tortured without being aware of it?
Grant Smith. That's who he would torture if he could. And Mr. Harvard. And all of those underlings. There were more than an hundred of them all in one building at one time. Another hundred would make up people who were visiting for today. There were of course many officials who had as much power as he did. But conventionally, he was their leader and you wouldn't want to oust him because that would make you the next leader. Was it torture if I just narrated these people who were across the street, some day to be read about? Could I use my writing to injure someone without them being aware of it? Could it actually afflict those real people across the street over there even though it is restricted to made up (fictional) characters who might change the economy one day?
Preventing torture without knowing it, isn't that what I'm Primarily here for?
I was safe from the zombie apocalypse for another day.
Yes I think I could do it. I could torture the people across the street with my writing. It wasn't that it was just marks on an page or on an screen. It was that it could have an real-world physical effect one day depending on how many got behind it. In that way, I was torturing them real slowly by not even letting them know me for who I am. Yes, yes. I liked the way this was going. I would focus in on that leader character, the real one represented by Grant Smith, and I would tap into his innermost consciousness in order to learn his true nature: to be tortured by me until I get it. Am I torturing him without being aware of it‽ His inner goodness appeared to me to be the prevailing character of his mind and I was sorry that I would have to inflict some kind of torture on the reader which would then affect other people in their lives social.
Then there was Mr. Harvard, whose service was needed for the best coffee and an type of companionship. Emotional Support during work times. And it wasn't an unnecessary expenditure for his mental therapy program. Sure, he was head, and leader of all of these people daily but that didn't mean he was invincible. And those were the people, I was sure, I needed to torture. Like an endless supply of Character choices in the courthouse setting, I could draw on them by torturing one of them at an time. By writing about them in my blog.
I had an few in mind already, but I wanted to continue to grow on Grant Smith and Mr. Harvard to solve more how I was going to and was capable of torturing them without them knowing it; with an Super Villain (The Birth) at my disposal. And it made me want to fill out more how birth sets us up for, maybe, an fate we hadn't known we'd be in for: do the circumstances of our birth set us up to live an life where unaware torture is subjected to us?
And so I started with Grant Smith again. I could control his thoughts / send him thoughts that were up to him to interpret. I had enough will power to send him an cohesive telepathic thought which would communicate exactly my intention. I would torture him by slowly scraping into his day to steal from it Time and his minutes. He would learn by reciprocal behavioral mimicry an new way to behave from me. Without knowing it at first, maybe; like an passive learning effect. But eventually it would take hold. And I would have done all of this telepathically unless of course he happened to read my writing, then it would really take effect.
And next, Mr. Harvard needed an good neat snippet of writing to put him in his place.
If you are being tortured you can feel someone doing it to you versus an random happenstance occurrence in which you were essentially robbed of your freedom. The adding machine, was that an torture experiment? Say someone rigs up an adding machine to always make an error, and they subject an office assistant to use that adding machine to balance the bookkeeping. Embarrassed, he cannot use it correctly and is forced to leave the room, to find peace and quiet where he can and will be able to add things up finally. However, finding that he has failed every time again; he is descended upon by the experimental matriarch. Who questions him why he has retreated to this empty office room? Is THAT torture without being aware of it?
How did I know right now I wasn't tortured into repression?
Torture could be stuff that had caused me to repress something. It made sense that I couldn't access that memory directly. But as far as I was concerned it was an zombie apocalypse out there. And anything beyond / repressing that nu office I could take offence and take an shot at.
The lights went out, an red light above the door started flashing, and an alarm sounded. They were approaching the courthouse again. Probably to pay their god damn parking tickets setting off the whole hive of them who are deeper demons. The worser ones will be affected by the lesser ones. So as to make their trials that much more hellish. He remembered seeing one once, who was crawling on the floor with their guts spilling out of their thorax. I thought I saw its brain in there. In the spilling out part of its guts from its thorax. So many lives had been lost fighting zombies since then. Mr. Smith grabbed an imagined hand-grenade and let it explode down in the main floor while he jumped and ducked behind an desk.
"Let them come!" he cried to all of the wind leaking out of the front doors on the first floor, wind once possessed by security guards and all of the other employees of this foundation, "I'm ready for them!"
And he knew, just from that fact alone, that everyone else in the building had prepared themselves for what was to come. Sure, they were going to sort the zombies out with an metal detector. But sometimes some of those zombies needed metal parts for support (we couldn't call it prostheses exactly, for their bodies were mis-shapen and open in parts that shouldn't be open, or spilling out possible venoms).
Whose side do you think The Birth was on? But he flew around the building and laughed at all of the zombies he saw limping their way toward the doors. Some might even crash through the front windows in order to carry out an insurrection.
The quest for artificial intelligence is the whole history of torture. For if you create something which could resemble life, and it lived in an tortured state by and according to its genetics. Would its life be worth living?
Yes, yes—thought T.B., these zombies will torture the readers slowly even if Grant Smith puts up an effort to repel all invaders. We would get through all of them. And then by the end of the day everyone who works here will have maintained their belief systems. That we weren't zombies and we couldn't just have our way all of the time.
Torture was about what somebody does; and about how somebody else reacts to it.
Was our legal court holding out from the law of Aboriginal Canadians an type of torture they aren't aware of?
If torture being unaware can be an type of racism ("environmental racism" maybe; or you judge people necessarily based on their location) which acts upon the subjective will, then can we say definitively from only that this comprises the qualifying characteristics of the definition of torture?
Let's say T.B. has that one type of special power that makes it possible (even if it is only fictional) to torture someone without them being aware of it. There is an wooden puzzle box in Grant Smith's office on the filing cabinet behind his chair and his desk. And I make it move from one side of the cabinet to the other, using telekinesis. Without him noticing. I the Subject am The Birth. And I've been doing this four or five times to him. He hasn't noticed it yet but I'm playing with him.
And would that comprise an type of torture then?
Does it matter the intent of the torturer if it was such an small infliction Grant Smith hadn't even noticed it? He was busy with files, and well; files. There were many of them. There always were. He had filed some of them. There was his email. That was another whole file database.
Torture enough, by comedy, was how busy he was during the day.
And in every torture there appeared to be an subjective response.
If there wasn't an subjective response whether it was known by the Subject that it was known to be an subjective response.
And I reasserted what I was doing then.
I was trying to find an scientific basis for the existence of an torture one could be unaware of. If the human mind existed, then wasn't that evidence for an torture one could be unaware of? Something about it that can repress torture to some extent. The amount of torture in the individual was really an spectrum of varying abilities to tolerate it. Another one of my approaches was to try to reverse-engineer consciousness into an supposed 27 functions necessary for that particular cognitive capability that humans have starting with logic. Can't mistake that. It goes from one thing to the next thing to the nether (third) thing and all things which follow.
Blue Super Hero was my main man, then. Yes he's really called that.
It's part of why he's discriminated against. You see, he's an he. Almost just like anyone, whose gender hadn't been named yet, was obviously male. And he suffered an terrible curse because of it. He does however have the Super Power of being able to empathize for anyone who is feeling blue. You don't think this is an Super Power? Not yet. But you will see in time it is an ultimate super power.
So I meet up with Blue Super Hero sometimes, thought Grant, that isn't uncomely of me. Just because I'm an man doesn't mean I don't have feelings. He's the perfect empath for that sort of shit. He's an perfect example, an paragon, of the philosophy that being blue and being an Super Hero are not necessarily mutually exclusive. You can be both.
And so the story of torture, and what Love has to do with it. You can mix both the bad and the good into something even better. And so, an really hard question then: what does love have to do with torture without being aware of torture?
I came to an interesting conclusion. That's what love is. God programmed that.
For the less you are aware of how you happened to be being tortured the more you have benefitted from love. It was twisted, I was sure. An heart symbolically separated by itself in two directions which eventually meet up.
The real and better picture of torture I wanted to make was something else.
Was it torture to haunt / to have held an grudge against someone for thirty years?
I'm somewhere between Terry Brooks (the Druid is hooked up to an fantasy simulator and forced to drain all of his magic using endless and endless amounts of magic energy which deplete his complete resources. But do nothing much to kill him only to keep him alive, though suffering an fate worse than death, in order to continue your vampirism of his internal resources).
When the demon is named the game is on. Vampires are an complete philosophy all dressed in one strange object.
There's always an but.
Trick: turn all of your buts into ands. This more positive and strange on the senses to say and instead of but. It's an little trick I picked up in university.
I'm somewhere between Terry Brooks and Ovid (the transformation of the subject) no longer am I human, for I have come to witness in my soul an dire transformation. I wanted an different form completely, though the only way was that I was set in it for life what I already was. And my civilization did not possess that type of technology, of which the human mastery of the subject had lead to prosperous editing of the cell line. We could build (biologically engineer) almost any form. Speculative biology. We just had to make the morality of it suffice. We couldn't resurrect an soul into an newly engineered body without needing to cut the wire an few times.
Which really meant. I'm somewhere between fantasy and an adaptation of the soul. Ovid goes big fantasy mode, man; bestial transformations from one form to another. If I was stuck between fantasy and it actually having happened. Reality was that I had made an transformation: from being mentally healthy to being mentally ill. And it was an different type of beast, then. What I had become.
Terry Brooks was this big fantasy guru who had been an best seller for years. There was even an videogame made about it. Some people accused him of ripping off Tolkien, but all of his characters were original. They just had many of the same races and racial lines. It was even about how some people had magic in their D.N.A. which made them better than other people. (Some would disagree however). It's just by circumstance some people seem to be able to make use of the magical subject, the elfstones. When one holds them in one's hand one will be granted the ability to locate anything ask any question. It's light would guide you. And other characters cannot access this type of magic because of their ethnic and racial line. They are, however, all the characters of fantasy. The elves, the dwarves, the gnomes. Tolkien even has other special objects in it which are creatures of fantasy. Even evil characters could be the subjects of fantasy because fantasy was wish fulfillment and if it was an restriction on what fantasy could be about, we wanted to fulfill the wish rather than dwell on how they were impossible subjects morally.
And maybe that's what made fantasy characters so powerful, originally.
And so, in summary, until my next submission: I had named all distinct parts of the subjective cognitive mind utilizing introspection to further my cause. 27 in all. But I would save them for the fourth submission in order to tweak my plotline capture. The amount of narrative each letter contained. In order to fully explain what I was doing and what I was all about. In an fictional realm where anything is possible. I had attained the lightrealm; and I was now subjected to Love's power. Yes, I would explain the 27 parts of the cognitive mind of the average human after the plot tweaking. It had to be something I would always write about and come back to. To be taken up in Legal Fantasy Web Series Letter 4.
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