October 13, 2021.

I'm not getting anywhere with the lady on the phone and she's so fakey-fake nice that I know that they've gotten to her already and she's just stringing me along until they can trace the phone booth I'm calling from which is 14 blocks away south from my apartment and another 8 blocks east, which i chose because their product is 112 and the number 112 is important and maybe it's how far they can search but i don't know yet

so I hang up and wipe off my fingerprints and burn a match to erase my pheromonal dna signature, take the bus back to my apartment and sweep it again for bugs and then it's only noon so I take another two buses and a taxi that I can't afford so the taxi driver pulls a gun on me and I get away only just but I don't think he was going to use it, to get to the big gray stone building that I've seen in the newspaper where I know they have to be.

i touch the door four times before i go in, just to be doubly sure that i am grounded and won't be riding any telluric currents, and i walk in and i ask the front desk guy if this is where they are broadcasting the messages into my brain from

"yes," he says. "lots of them."

"oh," i respond, slightly taken aback. "uh. why?"

"oh, you know how the cabal-" he gestures upstairs, rolling his eyes; solidarity between the working class. "-can be. they think you might be the reincarnation of so-and-so the redeemer or ba-ba-ba the avenging messiah or whatever, and are beaming these messages into your skull just to mix you up a little, so you won't redeem or avenging messiah anybody."

he excuses himself to take a quick phone call, returns, smiles politely.

i say: "is there any way to make them stop? if i promise not to redeem anybody, i mean?"

"i don't think so. you could fill out a form, but i don't think it would do any good, they're rather busy with their eschatological scheming and don't really bother with much paperwork. how about i let you go up and talk to their front desk man?"

i squint, and ask, suspicious: "will they kidnap and murder me or anything?"

"probably not, they're very busy, as i said. the fellow working the cabal's front desk today is jeschia, that's j-e-s-c-h-i-a, and he likes it when you pronounce it right: je-shy-uh. he's very susceptible to flattery, so i recommend you compliment his tie before asking any big questions like 'please stop beaming messages into my brain,' ok?"

"ok," i say, nodding, trying to remember: je-shy-uh. je-shy-uh.

"elevators to your left. floor 112."

"this building isn't that tall!"

he winks. "that's what they want you to think. good luck, and if i don't see you again, have a beautiful day."

"you too," i tell him, and mean it.