PASSION FOR TINION (WIP Novel 120,000 words)
© Cupideros, October 21, 2006
Women may fake orgasms but men fake entire relationships.--Written on the girl’s bathroom wall at Galan High SchoolWomen have their orgasms and men learn to fall in love. <3--Written on the girl's bathroom wall at Quodarian Academy WestCHAPTER 21: WORLD COMMISSION ON LOVE
© Cupideros, Thursday, April 23, 2009
RaydGalil sighed. It had been three peaceful months in his new house, new quiet neighborhood, where no one knew him. Life seemed like normal when compared to his old house on the base. The trees seemed like normal trees. Even the grass swayed like pictures in a shhh pastoral scene of some classic 19th century master. RaydGalil had gone shopping for groceries and cautiously sat the bag on the table. He used caution shopping. No more did he make a straight line for what he most wanted, the red tablets. RaydGalil always went into an aisle of groceries he did not want anything first, say the magazine rack or the makeup rack. “Have no habits. Your habits will be used against you. You will be tracked and watched more closely than a white rat in a cage with tubes inserted all into his head and body,” said the Gigolo’s voice in RaydGalil’s memory. Silth cared at least about sneaky secrecy. Once followed into the useless aisle by a couple of strangers, some women, other times men, sometimes little children or moms with their tots in tow, they were reluctant also to follow him into the important second aisle. Where eye care, mouthwash and aspirin sat stocked. There he carefully picked out the tablets alone.
Now RaydGalil grabbed the tablets from the bag and opened them. He emptied them into his open hand. The tablets seemed normal until he went to retrieved one. His fingers twitched and jumped in the slightest movements. He cautioned himself. He remembered, what the Gigolo had said. “Once they’ve body magnetized you, you can then reengineer where the body dust, sprits liquid or substance waits.” RaydGalil tossed all the twitching tablets into a cup of water especially sat on his pristine kitchen cabinet for this. RaydGalil was a neat freak. “This neat freak personality trait will favor you, RaydGalil--in ways you’ll never realize,” said the Gigolo.” RaydGalil expected this sooner or later, by the money coded with thread spy chips or the anonymous Silth agents standing looking over his shoulders, trying to memorize his every purchase. “Silth has technology you’ve never heard of.” The Gigolo had warned. “And new technology able to get anywhere unseen. It can seem like magic. If Silth was the open service, they post it on the Cyber Pages so all would know their sneaky methods. Silth will always say the enemy is doing that or this to our citizens, but you RaydGalil need to read it as Silth will do this to it’s own citizens, if they don’t obey. That is why they’re called the Secret Service. Because in sneaky secrecy they do things to people, organizations, corporation, and countries and worlds.” RaydGalil realized he’d tossed away one-fourth his ibuprofen aspirin red tablets. He’d have to go shopping sooner then expected for more. And he realized each time, Silth would do something different to the tablets products in that store. He’d have to shop at other stories, farther and farther out, buy in random non-habitual places. This prospect did not please him. But he realized with a smile, if he kept making Silth put their body magnet products in more stores, Silth’s need for secrecy would demand they contaminate the red tablet’s less. Even Silth didn’t want everything taking the red tablets turned into body magnet puppets? They’d have to use caution other sheep would notice. Different brands of the same red tablets, different stores, different times, never ever do anything routine again was RaydGalil’s plan. This was his price to pay for love. He loved TelGara-Waif more than ever now. He remembered what she said, “You’ll never forget me. Quodorian Girls are special” as she encircled the silver chain necklace holding a one dollar thumbnail sized plastic love trinket before they left the hotel. Engraved letters WCL on the back and a heart on the front covered slate-gray plastic. He hurriedly put up his groceries not trusting the open kitchen table area with its spacious clean secure looking tiles and shinny tight base boards.
RaydGalil lay on the brown soft carpet and wished TelGara-Waif and he lived together off Tinion. Somewhere. Anywhere. He stopped sitting in his chair when he wanted to relax. He realized one of his new handlers or watchers, because they kept switching them, and each group had a different personality and favorite use of what must be 5,000 different annoying and sneakily deadly body magnet games they liked to play. This latest fanatic, who no doubt believed, everything Silth told them about RaydGalil. “He’s a psychopathic killer. He’s a pervert. He’s a Quodorian spy. He’s plotting to over throw Galan.” Yes, this latest fanatic watcher loved mathematics and measuring things. He figured out measured my height at five feet, seven inches, his hands and four feet, two inches. My knees one and half feet below his hands. In this manner, this Skinner Box watcher will attempt to make my brain pulsate with headaches or even cause me to think I have a brain aneurysm. He’ll try electronically to zap my chest after they’ve spritzed a circular nano-pattern over my heart—to make me believe I’m having a panic attack. Or they’ll spritz or put magnetic dust under my shirt about my lungs and try to make me feel out of breath. I’ll just wipe those off and go about life as normal. He’ll try to spritz my knees and legs to make me walk unsteady, but I’ll wipe them off and go about life as normal. He’ll push and pull my hands, elbows and try to make me fumble things. Then with a well timed, cell-phone, these cell-phone gods, will call in a private commercial on my television, play something to make me believe I have Alzheimer's or I have diabetes or some nerve disease. He’ll know doubt push and pull my knees to make me twist my knees and have to go to the hospital or twist an ankle. This latest fanatic doesn’t know, I know to wipe off my knees and hands, then smack my hands and toss the external body magnet nano-technology to the ground. This sneaky latest fanatic doesn’t know I can slouch one inch lower in my chair. I bet this latest sneaky Silth fanatic didn’t know I would be laying on the floor today. RaydGalil’s mind went back shopping to a supposedly random guy talking to another supposedly random guy. One guy said loudly to the other, “They’ll wire his house in no two days.” RaydGalil gazed at the ceiling and his fingers fumbled with the gray plastic trinket. So what they’ve wired my house to spritz me. He wipe his hands and arms off, smacked them. Let him measure that!” RaydGalil grasped the trinket again. He closed his eyes and saw TelGara-Waif again. Her high breasts. The fire in her lips and her sure hands. Those hands that slapped him when they were making love. He smiled. It didn’t feel belittled by her ploy. RaydGalil turned over on his stomach to inspect the grey-sky color trinket closer. What could WCL stand for? With Careful Love. No. Wild Child in Love. No. World something probably. He kept fiddling with both sides. He squeezed the heart’s top and bottom. He squeezed the bottom and pressed the W and the little trinket expanded north and south four inches. Then it vibrated a second and pushed east and west three inches. “A UniViewer!” Exclaimed RaydGalil. One of those off-world things read about in SF magazines but never made into reality. Our news reports called the UniViewer another propaganda ploy by the Quodarians to make Galan’s believe the war is as good as over. The UniViewer lit up. UniViewer 2.91.A issued to TelGara-Waif from QSA.
end chapter 21
