From: Gibson, Katherine <[email protected]>
To: Daniels, Troya M. <[email protected]>
CC: <none>
BCC: Gabriel Macollum <[email protected]>
Date: Apr 8, 2008, 8:16 AM
Subject: RE: Security personnel
Hi Troya,
I’m sorry to hear your staff was treated poorly by our security personnel. As I mentioned in my last email, leveraging our security capacity towards internal courier expeditement is something we do now out of an abundance of caution, as we’ve had several important documents sent for international analysis only for management of external security assets to introduce issues.
Regarding their state-licensed weapons, I can assure you they are operating well within the legal guidelines set for members of the professional security industry and have all relevant certifications. I can further assure you that they represent no danger to you or your staff; quite the contrary! They are there for your protection and the protection of the documents. If you have reason to suspect otherwise, please, let me know.
To answer your question, your correspondence with the personnel on the ground was accurate: the security personnel are meant to provide ongoing security around the premises for the duration of the analysis, not simply for courier services. I apologise for the confusion, but I do insist upon the added protection, as no harm could result.
I apologise for not being able to provide any further details, but I will assure you that your complaints of intentionally intimidating behaviour on the part of the personnel will be thoroughly investigated and, if necessary, punishment in line with our professional code of conduct. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.
I hope that answers all your questions, and I do look forward to hearing back regarding the first material analyses soon!
Yours,
Katherine Gibson
Assessment Coordination Specialist
The National Archives
(+44) 020 7946 1312
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A Journal. September 27, 1769.
PREPARATIONS are being made on the part of Portollo, as well as a cohort of other Brothers we have met-up with, for a great celebration of Michaelmas. I feel an air of levity around me, although it is one I cannot share, as I have yet to witness any incredible gnosis which would by consequence call for such… We have yet to arrive at our destination, one Northern Lodge of whom we are to acquaint ourselves with the Highest Full Master, a man whom I still charitably assume holds a higher Degree of Wisdom than that demonstrated by the Brothers of the Ancient Italian Lodges. A stubble-goose has been dressed with asters, and the local bailiff provided one hogshead of cider for our company to enjoy during our postponement at the former French vanguard, Fort Niagara. We must delay further as negotiations with the Seneca Indians are ongoing, although their Chiefs and Paramounts, the Sachem, seem as invested in good-faith negotiation of travel and governance as the esteemed Iroqouis, which is perhaps explained by the fact – or as I understand at least – that the Seneca are familiar with the Iroqouis, and are, indeed, a facet of their Haudenosaunee, or great League of Nations.
Although the local Natives hold my interest greatly, I feel I, alone, carry this burden of interest, for the rest of my company, with the exception of generous Sidia, with whom I have developed quite a natural and witty rapport, seem to care little but for the consequences of negotiation. They are over-eager to carry-on, and share curses towards the Seneca who, on their account, allow negotiations to pause in order to imbibe in smoke and song and dance, an impression I do not share (although my disagreement is of course not made public, so as not to arouse a sense of disunity with the Brothers).
In these lands of Metacom and Metatron, Ojibwe and Avalon, Grand Arcadia, I feel a dualism stirring within me, that of the abject reality and that of spurious potentiality. We have met-up a Rosicrucian, or, a Former Rosicrucian, or, assuming his autonym, an Enlightened Rosicrucian, fully-armoured, who claims to have intimated with Brothers of my own social channels on the Continent, id est, the Bavarian Brothers seeking Illumination. This “Enlightened Rosicrucian”, one Herr Christian J.C. Stüller, perhaps Bavarian himself, brings with him a knowledge of certain continental political ebbs, and informs our company regularly of the machinations of groups similar to ours along the Rhine. He claims knowledge of the Death of the Pope, something which no-body else here has received news of, and hinted even that he took an active role in assigning his replacement. He is a learned man, having claimed study of Kant’s Theory of the Heavens, which he speaks of as a proud patriarch would speak of fanciful children’s tales. It is a tone of condescension which suggests a level of Enlightenment which at very least pre-supposes those theories of the continental scholars and, it is implied, fully encapsulates them within a system consistent with and beholden to Higher and More Illuminated Truths. It is only for his confidence and age that I am tempted to believe him, as he is among the eldest of those gathered here, by my wager at least Seventy of age.
I am utterly unsure of whether the ideas and utterances posited by these gentlemen are authentic – it is unclear entirely how, at all, to authenticate them – but it is clear that they and their knowledge hold a certain Utility, which has allowed them to move amongst the societies they have, and it is certain that no charlatan would be able to replicate the refinement and trivial, discrete manners of Herr Stüller. Such being the case, many of his claims are absurd, claiming descent from the House of Stuart, titling himself a Prophet of Pure Reason, suggesting even further that his experiences with the Bramans in India and the Magi of Persia (with, of course, a dalliance in the Holy Land, for good measure) has granted him a unique insight into the fundamental workings of our world.
He claims the entire planet to be a large machine, like those appearing in the burgeoning modern metropoles. The rivers course like pitch tar along steel shafts of a factory, each beetle a courier for his Queen, producing chemical and alchemical commodities unknown to even the most privy of Tuscan merchants. He regales us with tales of lecturing on Confucius, Avicenna, Averroes, and Origen, finding each time a gap in their philosophy, a pinhole with which the vast oceans of knowledge are allowed to spill onto the dusty ground. He puffs his chest, each time, at the détournement of their belief-set, as if he is Philidor declaring check-mate. “You, scoundrel, have been defeated; your highest theories but an ague to my calculating designs”.
I am too-far along this journey to begin doubting my Brothers, and, of course, such doubt would serve only to obfuscate any potential Illumination. Our noble quest against dogmatism and belief left fallow is equally armed against a scepticism lacking in principle, or an unhealthy cynicism which blinds one to true Light, and the precise tone and timbre of the present company – while failing to meet the highest standards of hope and equity – are, perhaps, not lethal to the higher purpose at hand.
To-night, one Brother who has met us from an old continental Lodge, sworn to an Ancient and Accepted Rite, will deliver a tracing-board lecture to occupy the company and build a common sense of unity and Shared Wisdom. The Fort rests on the shoulders of a great peninsular isthmus, giving way to a torrential river of rapids which descends into a sublime and destructive water-fall. Opposite is the centre of Government for Upper Canada, only so in name as there is sparse population and no settlement, which only some short years prior had, too, been a holding of “New France”, but is now squarely in control of the Seneca. There are still Frenchmen, of course, and Hurons, and Jesuits; they pass-through with offers of fur and trade. Our company, now numbering around one-dozen or so, hired the help of two Mohawk-speakers who are also versed in English, identifying themselves as of the Kanyenkahaka, or flint-people, but no-less members of the Haudenosaunee.
They introduced themselves as Kanatasay and Kariwasay. The Italians, unable or unwilling to achieve the proper degree of articulation (and eager to suggest that such Indian names do not lend themselves to a refined European pronunciation) began simply calling them “Canny” and “Carry”. I almost feel relief that they will not see us across the Great Lake themselves, having retired amongst their peoples already. I feel it is the eve of negotiation – the scarlet dressings of Michaelmas bring a hopeful portent of what is to come. I want to cross the lake. I wish to meet the other Lodge Brothers. Who is this Enlightened Master who we all assemble for? Do the Italians and the Bavarian, along with the motley gang so assorted, have a common bearing and motivation? God bring us the gnosis we strive for. Tkaranto, the land where trees stand in water. To the lecture, then.
In search of meaning.
Arthur Wickham
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NoNaTuS Encrypted Blogging Service
Connecting to blog: e-x-t-r-e-m-o’s trip log
Connected!
[94 comments]
[2/16/2008 18:45]: Sometimes I hate the fucking internet man. I tell you people that I tripped that I went back in time and I get flooded with pings and comments about a “time travel drug”.
Seriously?
That sounds stupid as shit, and trust me, I know. I took it, I felt it. I know I didn’t travel in time. Please stop pinging me about it. I’m going to answer some questions that keep coming up just so my inbox doesn’t get flooded for the next decade.
1: Yes, I will do it again. Despite our abundance of caution, I don’t think I was in any real danger of “brain death” or my heart stopping or any of that stuff. However, when you’re involved with as poorly-documented materials as I sometimes do, caution is INCREDIBLY salient. Like, there is literally never a reason not to other than being broke, and even that’s a crap reason. I do feel like malachi has something to teach and I’m still learning the lesson, but I think laying on your side before passing out would probably remove 99% of the danger.
2: No, I will not (and can not) prove I speak Latin. I’m not posting video of me speaking it for the same reason my blog is encrypted, I don’t want authorities (legal or otherwise) knowing who I am. I don’t want to get too into this because I feel like a hangup like this could actually cause damage if I try to “metacognize” about it too much. I mean you guys aren’t my doctor, I’ll straight up tell you I believe I was in a delusional state. I feel uncomfortable saying “I do not believe I can speak Latin” because I can prove it to myself, but I can’t even start TRYING to prove it in-person without getting carted off to a facility. You think anyone in my life would believe me? YOU don’t believe me. How could you expect others to? I’m fine with the fact that not all of my beliefs align with reality. I’m okay with knowing that it’s impossible for me to speak Latin, and also believing I can speak Latin. If you can’t manage cognitive dissonance, then you’re going to struggle in the “Land of the Free”.
3: As a follow-up to 2, Yes, I still believe I can speak Latin. Haec phrasis clare demonstratur latina. For more, see 2.
4: I don’t know if I can only go to Swedenborg. His “river” was “bright”, but there were plenty others. For more, see 1.
5: No, my “accomplice” as you all put it did not and will not take any. I’m not the type to try convincing someone they should put something in their body, but I’ll tell you now, after telling him two percent of what I saw he gave me the biggest “nope” I’ve ever seen.
6: No, I am not encouraging others to follow the path I’m charting. It’s dangerous and, by definition, uncharted. I’m simply trying to shine a light on something that’s been left in the darkness for a long, long time. This is broadly what motivates me, and has motivated my blog thus far: to learn more. I think drug intake can be recreational, but can also be enlightening. We can learn about the structure of the mind by manipulating it. Think about discovering a black box. It’s a machine that does something you don’t know, in a way you don’t know. How do you understand it? Well, it’s not impenetrable. Maybe you shake it, or even smash it a bit. Now, there’s oil spilling out, and it’s smoking. We’ve learned things about the machine, namely, that it contained oil and might contain more. It’s not the best metaphor. I’m not smashing my brain. Whatever.
7: No, I will not disclose precisely where I got the malachi from. As astute observers will remember, I already mentioned it’s from a darknet website that is presumably based in Italy or run by Italian individuals, as everything is in Italian. That’s the beauty of cryptocoin, isn’t it? That the shady Italians take it just the same as anyone. I don’t know how they operate and I don’t care to know. I’d sooner take two grams of malachi than pursue a deeper, richer understanding of how, why, and to what end the shady Italian website operates. Just seeing the “extra services” section of their marketplace kinda scares the shit out of me, frankly.
8: As for the next experiment, you can expect it somewhere between “when I want to do it” and “when work stops shoving responsibility onto me that isn’t mine”.
Signing off
e-x-t-r-e-m-o
