A note from the author..

Harumph!
Accidentally skewer a Secret Service agent with your umbrella (I really AM truly sorry about that one) and you get attention to everything you do - email read, phone tapped, blog profile looked into etc. - but there's one thing you should know fellow shadows: I doubt you have high enough clearance to read my complete NSA file (try the one at ONI and good luck) and I have changed enough data in my stories to disguise names or true locations.
That said, get back to investigating true threats to your Principal, OK.

Oh, and BTW for future reference: try having passengers enter from the REAR of the car instead of walking by the Principal as well as having a sniffer with the local doofus' on the platform BEFORE boarding.

PS: Merry Christmas and keep up the fine work - with you guys protecting the POTUS and VPOTUS, we know where your true loyalties lay!

Being very very careful

First I'd like to apologize for not writing here in over a month (!), but there's a pretty good reason that I haven't continued "Behind the Green Door".
Guess what? I pushed a boundary that I said that I'd never cross when writing these memoirs, and damned if it didn't catch up to me.

Trust me, more will be coming soon 'though - just as soon as I go out and buy more tinfoil..

Prisoner of Conscience - Part 3

 This is the third section of what I am now calling the "interrogation" of who may be my lost boyfriend by who knows what agency..

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Memory Dump Subject 0141960-M
Entry 3 - 01:3:50 / 102905


I am going crazy. I know it.
I really don't know how long I've been here.
I have no one to talk to, and no one talks to me.
I see no one. I can't tell what time of "day" my food arrives. It arrives sometime at what I think is mid-day, but I never seem to be paying attention - it's a little like watching for water to boil - and then PLOP! - in pops the tray.

I am however devising a way to count by timing how soon I can get water in my sink, but I still have no frame of reference except to stand in front of it and count in a syncopated manner, shoving my hands into the sink in 10 second intervals until the water trickles forth.

And this is why I know they are watching me.
As soon as I had some frame of reference for time and date, they stopped the water from coming every 10 minutes. I know. I counted.
Well, that and the fact that after I started to beat my head against the toilet in order to kill myself, I was taken to another cell.
I did manage to conk myself pretty hard, or at least hard enough to knock myself out cold, and when I woke up my head had been stitched and the remnants of blood that had caked on the edge of the toilet seat from previous attempts had been removed.

So, if they weren't watching me, how did they know that I hurt myself?
I am confused. They won't talk to me.
I don't know what they want.
I don't know how long I've been here or how long I will BE here.

I guess I'm a political prisoner but I have no idea where I am, or even what they want from me.

From time to time I masturbate, having long since given up any hope of privacy and in much need of relief. God I miss "D".. I wonder what she's doing right now...
I think about her all the time in the continuing silence; our talks long into the night, her fantasies and crazy stories she makes up. I even miss her talking in her sleep.
Ouch. My head hurts.

Prisoner of Conscience - Part 2

Here's the second part of the transcript I "liberated" from Ben's office:

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Memory Dump Subject 0141960-M
Entry 2 - 03:41:30 / 082205


Looking back, I can't see anything wrong in my life. I get up and kiss D, go to work, come home and eat, then play a bit before bed. I'm just another schmuck on the bus, just like everyone else out there in corporate America and it really galls me that I can't figure it all out. Maybe if I go back a bit more and revisit the former months, can I get a better idea of just what went wrong.

Is it something I did? I've never harmed a flee (well, actually, I loath them on my dog and cats and put them swiftly to their deaths), so that was a bad analogy - but really - I'm just another lemming in America.

Was it working for the Kerry campaign back in '99 that did it?
Sure, I went to rallies and speeches and had bumper stickers on my car and a sign in my front lawn like many other people, and ok, maybe I blogged a bit fervently in support of the campaign. Yes, I went to the protests down in Florida after the election was stolen from the Democrats there just as it was in 2000, but many of us WERE up in arms about how so many people (who just happened to be Democrats) weren't allowed to vote because of something or another.

Both Governor and President Bush assured America and the Fifth Estate that there WERE no irregularities, but we knew better. And Florida wasn't alone with the issue - there were more voting atrocities nation wide, however the Republicans poo poo'd the whole notion and yes, the special investigation by Congress (Republican controlled I might add) showed no real issues, but many of us knew that something was rotten in D.C. and decided to speak out.

So much for the First Amendment. Many of us were arrested at the peaceful protests, even though we were in a public park under the waving American stars and stripes, I included. They held me for three days without a lawyer or bail until they charged me and my "conspirators" with "disorderly conduct". This is quite humorous; as I said, it was a peaceful protest - no bullhorns, no yelling, no fighting.

So yeah, there was THAT, but now what?

They turn the lights down but never out at what i can only perceive is "night", so I can rest a bit, but who knows how long I've actually been here. The days are so long with nothing to do but think, that I really have no way of knowing just what day it is, or how long I've been here.
I started to try and count the cycles by scratching Roman numerals on the wall with my finger nails, but oddly, these disappeared after about 7 "cycles".

The only thing I can figure out about how this happened is that my keepers are drugging my food at night and then cleaning me and my cell, or moving me around to different places..
Oh yes, the food.
It arrives once a day though the slot in the door on a tray made of plastic that seems to be attached to the door itself. I am forced to eat what they give me not only standing up, but without utensils as well. The food is bland and tasteless, but I must eat something, so I eat what they give me. At first I wolfed it all down, but quickly realized that since they were feeding me but once a day, that I had better slow down and enjoy (?) every putrid bit by chewing slowly.

Attempting to reserve some food for later consumption was a fruitless effort and in essence has lead me to understand just a bit about how the "cycle" works here.
I believe that once a "week" they drug my food or water (ah ha! that's what that little spout on top of the toilet is for!) and then move me out of my cell to another one since I wake up with a bit of a headache the next "day" less itchy than I was the previous "day" with clean hair, and whatever I have scavenged for food removed from it's hiding place.
It explains as well why my crude calendar disappears as well I guess.

Oh yeah, the toilet. Weird. This MUST be some sort of Federal prison, but having never been in one before, I can't really say, but there are some high tech features here that almost defied explanation for a while until I sussed them out. Like the toilet.

It's made of stainless steel and has a sort of basin in the top with a spout coming out of it. The drain in the basin is made of mesh holes, so I can't stick anything down it, and no, there is no way to flood it.
That's the odd thing. There are no handles to flush the toilet or turn on the water in what I will call the sink. I just do my business in the toilet and it flushes with a WOOSH!
The "sink" is the same way. I put my hands near it, and a little trickle of water comes pouring out the slot and I have about 10 seconds to either wash my hands (no soap) or drink from it.

It doesn't happen every time 'though. I have to wait about an hour in between, so there's no way to wash your hands AND get a drink. It's almost like someone is training me, or it could be remote controlled. I just don't know at this point...

And I'm sure "they" are watching me. The ceiling is about 10 feet high with no features to speak of except for the mesh covering the light. I was staring at the light for a while a bit back, and I noticed through the glare a black dome in the middle of the fixture. It has to be a camera, I just know it. But what are they waiting for?
No one interviews me, and yelling at the top of my lungs does no good.

I suspect that there are others like me here since at times I hear muffled sounds close to the slot in the door that my food arrives through, but I can't tell if the voices are male or female, or just how far away they are from me.
I miss "D" terribly.

Prisoner of Conscience - Part 1

Snooping around Ben's office at the DoJ, I came upon some transcripts that really freaked me out. I think they have to do with my old boyfriend / fuck buddy that disappeared a few years ago, but I'm not sure yet.

I thought at the time that "J" had found out about my "second job" and couldn't handle it, given that there was a cryptic note on our night stand that said he "couldn't take it any more" and was leaving.





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Memory Dump Subject 01041960-M
Initial Entry - 02:32:12 / 051605


Ouch! My head hurts! It's throbbing like I've never felt before,,
I don't know what happened; I went to bed last night in my cozy little apartment with my lover like I always do, and now I awake to find that I'm sequestered in a 6x10 foot cell with no window with only a built-in cot and stainless steel toilet with some sort of spout on it at the top.

Where the hell am I?
There's no window like I said, and the light that I do get is overhead from fluorescent lights built into the ceiling.
The door is steel with no handle or lock visible, but there is a slot with a tray built into it onto which I suppose food or some sustenance will arrive sometime.

I'm cold. I have no clothing save a paper-like jumpsuit. There are no sheets on the cot, only the batting on the mattress and even then I can't lift it up to even see underneath as it is fastened down somehow.

Now what?
Like I said, I remember going to bed at home and now I awake here in this cell with a headache.
What did I do?

Well, like, it's not been a bizarre week anyway since losing my job - and even that was strange in and of itself how it happened.
Everything was going just fine at work, basically the work a day world of a computer programmer at one of those nameless companies out there in America that no one has ever heard of before, sitting and coding all day long with only the solace of my chats with friends of like minded ilk.

Suddenly, I was being asked to move up all of my projects by a week and then I noticed people avoiding me as I went down the hall to the break room, and occasionally they would even just stop talking as I entered a room. Naively, I presumed that they were planning a party as my birthday was just a week away..

Then the other shoe dropped. My boss called me into his office to give me the bad news that the company would "no longer require my services". When I asked him why, all he could do is stammer out a somewhat nonsensical reply; something about corporate strategy BS and the like.

I found that a bit fishy, but really began to wonder what was up when I was escorted from his office by a corporate security guard holding a box with all of my personal belongings. I also found it just a bit odd that two men in dark suits were in my 'cube dismantling my computer... oh well, I wrote it off to the usual end-of-job maintenance. I realize now that there were much darker and more sinister forces at work here at work.

That night at home, "D" and I discussed the days events and made plans for the future without my income and another way to pay the bills. D is a paper pusher/secratary, which she hates with a passionate loathing, but she makes more than me so in effect we'll probably be all right for some time while I look viable options considering my current skill set. At least she gets to go out of town regularly for her boss.

D is a wonderful lover, and I miss the contact right at this moment; I can see that I will not have the support or contact with D anytime soon, or at least that's how I perceive my current situation.

GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE??!!

About these stories

While it is true that all good stories come not only from a warped mind but also contain a grain of truth, I must note to all readers that "Secret Sins" may or may not be entirely fiction.
The names used are either from inside my head or from actual WITSIC cases, but do not necessarily reflect actual carnal encounters as portrayed.
As to the pictures, all pix are grabbed from public sources and NO, that's not Debbie in the pictures nor is that actually "Ben", so please stop asking.

The next part of the story gets pretty intense and begins to name names as it were, but again, it may all be fiction.
Information on how WITSIC works however, is real as related to me by a former Federal Marshal - just the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

PS: Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you - the surveillance devices in the stories are real..