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JamesSavik

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  1. JamesSavik
    The Inquisitor
     
    Anybody who wants this job shouldn't have it. They would just be thugs. The people who should have it burn out or flip out. Philip Baker was just trying to hang on to his retirement and self respect.
     
    Once being a special agent for the Bureau was a respectable job. That was the job he had signed on for twenty-seven years ago. That seemed like a long time ago. Before the wars. Before the genetically engineered plagues were released. Before the Night of the 13th Prophet when Islamic terrorists nuked Washington, Atlanta, Chicago, LA and Seattle and the great capitals of Europe from Moscow to London. Before the Great Crusade when Muslims were systematically slaughtered globally to the last toddler. Before a string of Christian religious fanatics had seized power and turned the United States of America into the Christian States of America.
     
    It was a very damaged nation and world. Summers were short. Global warming was replaced by nuclear winter. Millions of people worldwide were dying of radiation poisoning. Millions more were dying slowly of cancer. Plagues periodically flared up when the viruses released by the Jihadis re-emerged. The jury was still out on whether the ecological damage to the planet could ever be healed. The world population had crashed from a high of seven billion to a little less than three billion.
     
    The Bureau had became the Bureau of Purity- greatly expanded with wide latitude and new mandates. Instead of a special agent, he was now an inquisitor. In addition to the laws that the Bureau traditionally enforced, a new Uniform Code of Morality was enforced by every law enforcement officer in the land. The UCM was passed at a time of great fear. When things went bad, the Evangelicals claimed that the country was being punished for tolerating immorality. The laws were passed out of fear and were being expanded every year. Things that had not been a crime before were now capital offenses. Alcoholism, drug addiction, insanity, homosexuality were all grounds for summary execution. More than likely they would simply be conscripted in the slave labor gangs that were forced to clean up the radioactive waste lands that were once our largest cities.
     
    As Baker thought about the past, he tasted bile in the back of his throat. How many had it been? Once we thought of Hitler as a great villain of history. How would history judge the Christian States of America? Lady Liberty's white robes of piousness were dripping with the blood of billions.
     
    He was working inside the Atlanta restricted zone. Some parts were hotter than others and fugitives had taken to hiding in the fringes of the various hot zones around the country. He was after a bad one. Jason Sutter had been a gay activists back in the day. He wrote books and was a dissident leader according to his file. The Bureau had wanted him for years and a snitch had finally fingered him in the ruins of Norcross, Georgia.
     
    Sutter had been on the run for almost twenty years. What the Bureau really wanted him for was he obviously had information about the underground railroad for perverts that closet miscreants or the misguided had set up to get them out of the country.
     
    Baker entered the restricted zone from the East at the checkpoint at Duluth, GA on I-85. The main roads had been cleared and it was obvious that a great deal of clean up had already taken place. He slowed down and keyed the suspected address into the vehicles GPS.
     
    Working in the zones never failed to give Baker the creeps. When he got off the interstate at Beaver Run Road to drive into Norcross, he passed a shopping mall. On one side the mall was wrecked and burned. On the other side cars were still parked in neat rows. In the neatly landscaped parking lot, trees provided shade. The only thing that moved down there now were crows.
     
    Driving past the mall on the eerie deserted streets, businesses and homes sat still and deserted. Abandoned cars had been bulldozed out of the main roads. FEMA's spray painting was still clearly visible on the fronts of buildings. There appeared to be nothing visibly wrong except all of the windows facing West had been blown out in the shock wave. Of course he was ever mindful of the clicks of his vehicles geiger counter. In some places the radiation was so intense that a flat tire might be a death sentence.
     
    He took Buford Highway West and then turned North on Jimmy Carter Blvd and passed through the ghost town of Norcross. After crossing Peachtree Industrial, he turned off into the suburbs and came to a house on Summit Point Drive.
     
    While the rest of the neighborhood was deserted, the house and yard was well kept. When he got out of his vehicle, he noticed an old woman wearing a bright blue blouse with a kitten on her knee sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. She raised her hand and waved in greeting. Red roses were blooming on trellises framing the porch.
     
    Baker approached the old lady cautiously and noticed that as he got closer, she was very obviously blind. The kitten in her lap eyed the approaching inquisitor suspiciously, hopped out of the old womans lap and vanished into the bushes.
     
    She said, "Welcome stranger. I get visitors so seldom that it makes my day. Would you like a cup of tea?"
     
    Astonished, Baker replied, "No thank you mam."
     
    She said, "Please, call me Meridith young man. No- you aren't that young. I can tell from your voice. You're from before."
     
    "Yes Mam. I'm Philip. How long have you been here?"
     
    "I've been here since the world ended Philip. I was in my late fifties when it happened. I didn't see much point in evacuating."
     
    "Meredith, I'm a policeman and I'm looking for a dangerous suspect."
     
    Meredith said, "Hump. Morality police?"
     
    Philip said, "Yes Mam."
     
    "You're looking for a boy that had the misfortune of being born gay?"
     
    "Just saying that is a violation of the Uniform Code of Morality mam. Homosexuals chose their perversion."
     
    Meredith laughed, "Don't try to bully me. I grew up in a time when we spoke our minds. Besides, my cancer will kill me soon enough. There's very little you can threaten me with."
     
    Baker sighed. This was going nowhere. "How do you live here?"
     
    "They help me. You know why I never left this huge grave yard?"
     
    "No Mam. Why are you still here?"
     
    "Because the Ayatollah's won. The evil men that destroyed our cities. They had morality police and morality laws. They had things you could say and things that you couldn't. We may have destroyed them but we became them. I had rather live out my days in the radioactive ruins than live in chains. I was free once and I chose to remain that way."
     
    Baker said, "Is there anything you need Mam?"
     
    The old woman sat on her rocking chair like an ancient monarch. She shook her head and said, "Leave those kids alone Mr. Morality Policeman. They're just trying to live. The preachers and the false prophets in power now have forgotten that the lord said live an let live."
     
    Baker got back in his car. He called into headquarters and told his supervisor that the lead in Norcross was a dead end. When he passed the checkpoint and left the restricted zone, he pulled out his badge and threw it out the window.
     
    He had grown up before. He remembered what it was like to be free and not live in constant fear. It was time to live again.
  2. JamesSavik
    Way back in 8th grade, (or the late seventies) I did a whole semester on the Metric System (SI). We were told that its adoption was imminent. The jolly old US was the only major country still using the old English system.
     
    I've been waiting ever since.
     
    The metric system is so elegant. Grams, meters, liters. Milli, centi, deci, hecto, kilo, mega, giga, tera- it all makes so much sense. Factors of 10. It just doesn't get any better or easier than that.
     
    Not so arbitrary as 16 ounces in a pound or 1760 yards in a mile.
     
    Sigh. I've been waiting a long time. I've used the metric system in chemistry and physics and even professionally.
     
    What is the problem? It works so much better but there so damned many ignorant people in the United States. Whats worse than ignorant is they don't give a damn about learning anything new. Every time the metric system makes gains, it was attacked by hordes of ignorant, dickless hillbillies to whom using the metric system was the first step to the new world order.
     
    Well screw it. I like the metric system. Hence forth, I'm going to USE the metric system.
     
    Have meter stick will travel. I will drink by the liter and have my kilo-gram of flesh. I'd walk 1.609 kilometers for a Camel.
     
    Granted- the temperature in Celsius will take some getting used to but its worth it.
     
    What is it with this fucking country and progress? We go to the moon. We build super carriers. We build supersonic stealth fighters but we're either too arrogant or scared to make changes that will amount to real social and scientific progress.
     
    How much time, money and productivity is lost to business and industry because we sell in English tons and the rest of the world deals in metric tons?
     
    How many people have been scared away from the sciences because the first thing they are taught are English unit conversion factors?
     
    It's time to join the world.
  3. JamesSavik
    Going to Texas to visit my brother and his family.
     
    Going off line- unplugged, shudown, tuned out.
     
    Finding a cat sitter was difficult. My cat beast has a well earned reputation of being meaner than I am.
     
    Of course no trip to North Dallas would be complete without a visit to the Opera House in Denton. http://www.recycledbooks.com/
     
    If you are ever there check it out.
     
    As an aside, I'm not sure if I will be back. When your ignore list is becoming unmanageable, you either have to check yourself or admit that you've reached the point of diminishing returns.
     
    There is a very pronounced culture clash and generation gap at work that is making GA a hell of a lot less fun than it used to be.
     
    I am a hot tempered Cajun red neck with more baggage than Newt Gingrich. Sometimes I don't play nice with others.
     
    I rag on my friends because that's what we do. Calling me a liar is an invitation to a fight. If we were friends, I'd die before I betrayed you.
     
    I've been here a long time. If you don't know me by now, maybe it is time to move on.
  4. JamesSavik
    This is so bizarre that I decided to write it down. Just for the record, I'm not afflicted with Bieber fever.
     
    I'm not sure why but everybody was in the Army. I was an instructor at boot camp and one of my victims, I mean trainees was none other than Justin Bieber.
     
    I asked him what was he doing here, he's Canadian. He said that he had dual citizenship so he got drafted too.
     
    After teaching my trainees how to field strip and AR-14, we had some range time. I showed them how to fire three round bursts .
     
    Years ago I interviewed members of bands like Rush and Cheap Trick.
     
    I asked my question that always stumps them: when you are on stage, how much of that is you and how much is an act?
     
    Sounds like an easy answer but it isn't. Niel Pert told me it was the damn-est question he had ever been asked and I was only writing for a college paper.
     
    Bieber liked the question but couldn't really answer it. Said he had to think about that one. I woke up before he answered.
     
    His answer was much better than Bun E. Carlos of Cheap Trick's answer: I'm too stoned to think that hard.
  5. JamesSavik
    Check out Nothing but Thieves ==> http://www.youtube.c...thingButThieves
     
    This young band has a smooth, easy, expansive sound that many professionals work on for years but never do get quite right.
     
    There's talent at all four instruments and they are tighter than some bands that have been together for decades.
     
    They have a very special presence and charisma and they will only get better.
     

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3LNYnRgjYA
     

    http://www.youtube.com/user/NothingButThieves#p/u/3/U99An5l7bu4
  6. JamesSavik
    "Oh my god, I think I killed him!" , the young woman holding a shovel shouted.
     
    I answered, "I'll check. Stay back. Where is he?"
     
    She said, "In the back yard. He surprised me on the patio. He tried to grab me but I smacked him." Her hand were shaking as she held the shovel at port-arms.
     
    I pulled my Beretta and clicked off the safety and pulled my mag-lite.
     
    I keyed my radio and said, "This is one-L-19 responding to complaint of a prowler, I'm Code 2 at 145 Pine Valley Highway. 10-70 reported in the back yard. Roll backup."
     
    Dispatch responded, "One-L-19, Code 2, any available backup please respond."
     
    I wasn't holding my breath for back up. As crazy as things were going that night, I wasn't really expecting any for a while.
     
    "Mam- go inside and lock the doors. I'm going to clear your back yard."
     
    She said, "Deputy, be careful. There's something not right about him". Then she disappeared inside the garage door with her shovel and I heard the latch snap.
     
    If it was illegal aliens in this neighborhood it would be a first. The surrounding terrain was some of the roughest desert in the South West. This little berg was a well-to-do far flung suburb of Tuscon way out south of Red Rock.
     
    I went around the side of the house and found the gate to the back yard standing open. There was a diffused blue light coming from a bug-zapper on the other side of the fence. As I passed the gate there was a distinct smear of dark blood. Thought to myself- it looks like she got a piece of him.
     
    As I went into the back yard, I yelled, "Pima County Sheriff's Office! Let me see your hands!"
     
    I swept the yard with my mag lite and saw nothing on my first sweep. It was a nice place. It was a fenced in back yard with a pool, pool house and tool shed. The tool shed door was standing wide open and a light was on inside.
     
    As I swept through the yard, I saw a shadow move in the tool shed. I came around, put the mag-lite and Beretta on the door of the shed and ordered, "You in the shed. Come out and let me see your hands."
     
    Suddenly a big guy in army fatigues, combat boots and a holstered side arm appeared in the door of the shed. The flash-light beam in his face made him stop. There was blood on the side of his face and he appeared quite pale. What bothered me the most was the blood on his hands. Holy shit. What I stumbled into?
     
    On seeing his side arm I yelled, "Drop the weapon. Drop it now!"
     
    He started coming toward me and began accelerating.
     
    I yelled one more time, "Drop the weapon and get on your knees. Last warning!"
     
    He continued to accelerate toward me.
     
    I shot him twice, center mass and he fell on his back.
     
    I keyed my radio mike and said, "Shots fired, shots fired, suspect down! I need a bus and a supervisor now!"
     
    I approached the suspect, leaned over and took the pistol out of his holster. As I was securing his weapon, the suspect opened his eyes and made a grab for my legs.
     
    "Stay down! There's an ambulance on the way!"
     
    The suspect rolled over, got up and came after me again.
     
    I took two more shots and dropped him again.
     
    He got up faster this time. I put two more rounds in his chest and another two in his head. This time he didn't get up.
     
    I looked around at the scene and there was blood and gore everywhere.
     
    Somewhere in the night I heard the boom of a shot gun. The shot gun went off three more times and there was a blood curdling scream.
     
    I heard the gate creek and I turned to see another messed up person shambling into the back yard. The man was in his thirties and had a bloody neck wound.
     
    I ordered him to halt but he kept coming for me. I shot him twice once in the chest and one in the head. As soon as he had dropped a horribly injured Mexican man came through the gate snarling and running toward me. I shot him twice and went dry. I quickly slammed another magazine into my gun and decided that it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
     
    As I ran through the gate there were two more. I shot them both and sprinted for my cruiser when I saw dozens of those things coming toward me. I jumped in the patrol car, fired it up and ran over three of them as I ran like hell.
     
    What had just happened? Why had I just left the scene of a shooting and run over three people? What the hell was going on? What was wrong my my freaking bullets? Nobody got up after taking center mass shots at close range. Nobody. Were they wearing body armor? Nothing made sense. I could tell that I was in shock.
     
    I listened to my police radio as unit after unit reported civilian gunfire, shots fired by officers and people acting crazy.
     
    It was a huge tangled mess of desperate radio calls for help.
     
    The world was falling apart for no apparent reason.
  7. JamesSavik
    "Look, I know you weren't really ready to talk to me, but I have to tell you what has been going on. Just listen to me ..." the voice on the phone said.
     
    I sighed at my cell phone. The clock by my bed read two oh-three am and I had a crazy woman on the phone.
     
    "Jessie. How nice to hear from you. What gave you the idea that I didn't want to talk to you. Not taking your calls, ducking your voice mails or actually hiding from you?"
     
    Now it was Jessie's turn to sigh. "Oh come on Philip. We've known each other too long."
     
    "It's what you are saying girl. It's crazy. It is just like what the Army said in their press release: a gas was accidentally released that causes confusion and hallucinations."
     
    "You are a smart enough reporter to know a cover story when you see one."
     
    I said, "I have to admit that it is a little convenient. But what you are saying. It just sounds so crazy. Look humor me. Tell me the story again."
     
    Jessie cleared her throat and said, "Yesterday morning at about three am, the paramedics brought us a psyche case. He was fighting and biting and appeared to be seriously injured. We put a bite mask on him and put him restraint table. He had some kind of seizure and flat-lined. We called a code blue. We gave him direct cardiac adrenalin and shocked him at least a dozen time. We pronounced him dead at 3:25. The only ID we found on him were a dog-tags. We called our contact at the Yuma Proving Grounds per protocol."
     
    "We got busy with a car crash. Bunch of kids. Nothing serious but cuts, bruises and a broken arm. We had just cleared it when this corpse started going ape shit."
     
    I said, "This is the guy that you pronounced dead right?"
     
    "Yeah. Dead. Stone cold, dead as a post. No heart beat, no respiration. Nothing. He starts growling and thrashing around under the sheet. If he hadn't been restrained, he would have gotten up."
     
    I said, "This is where we have a problem with your story. Corpses don't get up."
     
    "No shit Sherlock. This is where it gets weird. We figured that we had made a mistake and pronounced him too early. We went back to work on him but got no vital signs. No heartbeat, no blood pressure. We gave him enough Valium and Atavan to drop a horse and he was still fighting us. No. That's not right. He was fighting to get to us."
     
    "That's when the Army showed up, shut down the ER and came up with that bogus cover story. They gave everybody vague threats and discouraged us from talking to the press."
     
    I paused for a moment and said, "That's one hell of a story but I've got nothing solid. What can I take to my editor?"
     
    Jessie said, "You remember the paramedic from last night?"
     
    I said, "Yeah."
     
    "He was bitten. He here now and he's in the same shape as the guy from last night. On top of that, he bit his wife and kids and they are in isolation with high fever and we've got seven more bite related cases. Dr. Lawrence just pushed the panic button and called the CDC and I don't mind telling you I'm scared shitless."
     
    My cell phone went dead and a recording started: This conversation has been terminated for reasons of National Security. The message repeated itself twice and my phone went completely dead.
  8. JamesSavik
    The Athlete
     
    OK. You can stand the competitiveness to get next to those pecs and abs. It's not that he looks like a Greek god chiseled out of marble that turns you on about him. It's that dreamy look in his eye.
     
    It takes about a month to figure out that when he gets that dreamy look, he's thinking of somebody else.
     
     

     
    Mr. Perfect
     
    No. He's not a wrestler except in the sack. Mr. Perfect is everything you always wanted... except for the cheating and the clap.
     
     

     
    The Hipster
     
    Like anyone that has ever fed a tom-cat, you gave him sex once and now you own him. Unlike the tom-cat, you can't drop him off at the pound.
     
     

     
    The Cute Dumb One
     
    You can't help but fall in love with the cute dumb one. His vulnerability is so appealing. It takes dating him a while to figure out that he'll be a high maintenance life long project. Trade in on a red neck or a geek. At least they can fix your car/computer.
     
     

     
    The Buddy
     
    It's inevitable. Everybody makes the mistake of sleeping with one of their buddies. Problem is that weirdness factor afterwards. So... do you want to play video games or blow me? You can see how this will get complicated.
     
     

     
    The Pretty, Pretty EMO Boy
     
    This is a mistake of epic proportions. EMO boys are like crack: they are highly addictive and hard to get. They will only find you sexually attractive until you turn 20 and then you immediately become a sad old troll that they are embarrassed to be seen talking to. Sure the sex is amazing but the early troll-hood just ain't worth it.
     
     

     
    The Geek
     
    OK- he's not very sexy or attractive but he'll love you like it the first time- because for him, it probably is. Sure he tends to be socially awkward and might need coaching to shower and brush his teeth every day but dammit, he's reliable. He can either fix your computer or build you a new one that would make the NSA jealous.
     
     

     
    The Drunk
     
    No. Just no.
     
     

     
    The Redneck Kid
     
    Whether he is from Kansas or Louisiana or Texas, he's polite and has some old fashioned ways but you can always count on him to be true. He can fix your car and shoot burglars between the eyes. He's a keeper.
  9. JamesSavik
    Insomnia haunts me and taunts me,
    Mind racing and chasing details of the day.
    Plans of tomorrow, no time to borrow,
    Always behind as time grinds,
    Past and future together in the breathless present.
     
    I am so lost, I don't know the cost,
    Of the things that I've been or the things that I've seen,
    In the night they are burning bright,
    Restless azure darkness impaled,
    By the fires that rend the eternal night.
     
    There is no peace when the wars never cease,
    even though its been over for decades.
    I close my eyes and I am there,
    Once again in the fire of pain and desire,
    The unending battles still rage.
     
    Beware my friend not to live too long,
    And see entirely too much shit,
    Because in the night, it will never feel right,
    And it can be a hell to live with it.
     

     
    "Night Fire" by Gaziano
  10. JamesSavik
    It's 1970.
     
    Vietnam is raging.
     
    Love is free.
     
    And so was I.
     
    Take a bong hit and remember.
     

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRkovnss7sg
     

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qswm7lHp7oY
  11. JamesSavik
    The Cure - IV
     
     
    I saw the smoke plume from miles away. When I arrived, the police and fire department had the whole block cordoned off. My Midtown apartment was obviously a total loss and they are hosing down the surrounding buildings to keep it from spreading.
     
    A young woman wearing a New Orleans Fire Department jacket approached me and asked, "Are you Sawyer from 2C?"
     
    "Yes Mam. What happened? Mrs. Tran kept a tight ship. Everything was up to code and inspected twice a year."
     
    She showed me a badge, "I'm Alice Miloy. I'm an investigator with the fire department. We're going to try to figure it out. Right now we're just trying to make sure everybody got out."
     
    I said, "Everybody worked so the place was pretty much empty during the day. The owners lived on the first floor. Mrs. Tran was there all the time. Her sons Hien and Gia are college age. I'm not sure where they go but they are usually both out by 7:30."
     
    Miloy asked, "What about 3B?"
     
    "3B are the Benard brothers. They work off shore and won't be back until next week."
     
    Miloy nodded and said, "Thanks Mr. Sawyer. I think that accounts for everybody."
     
    I said, "Miss Miloy, what happened here?"
     
    She said, "I can't really get into until it cools down and we can look around but right now my gut is telling me its arson."
     
    I shook my head in disbelief. "No way the Trans would be in on an insurance scam. They were straight arrows."
     
    She said, "It could be anything from a pissed off ex to a fire to cover a burglary."
     
    "What makes you think its arson?"
     
    She took an instrument off of her belt and pointed it at the fire. "This gadget tells me how hot a fire is. Most structure fires top out around 1500-2000 degrees. Take a look at this."
     
    She showed me the laser thermometer- it was reading 3700 degrees.
     
    "Unless someone had a closet full of thermite, this fire is burning too hot. There is some sort of accelerant at work here. I'll have to get the lab results but I'm sure. We see this sort of thing in high end insurance jobs- they want the structure to burn fast and completely. It burns so hot that anything inside is completely incinerated: bodies, evidence, contents. With fires that burn this hot, there'll be nothing left."
     
    * * * * *
     
    After exchanging cards with Miloy, I got in my car and headed to Pierre's for a late lunch. I made a call to a friend who owned a cheap motel in Gentilly and secured a room for a few weeks.
     
    As soon as the call was done, my phone rang. I answered, "Sawyer."
     
    "Gabe Crenshaw boss. I ran down those names for you. They are all problem kids from big money families across the South."
     
    I asked, "Problem kids?"
     
    "Yeah. Partying, drugs, DUIs and rumors. Nothing solid. According to what I've dug up they were all in some kind of trouble. Then they went away for a year and change- I don't know rehab or something. The cover story is that they were studying abroad. That's not clear. When they all got back they were model citizens."
     
    "Thanks Gabe. Write it up and email it to me. I'm beginning to think that list is important."
     
    "Sure boss."
     
    "Gabe, what are your plans for the weekend?"
     
    "I don't know. I'll probably study at the dorm."
     
    "Go see your folks in Gulfport and call me Sunday before you come back."
     
    "Is this stuff that hot?"
     
    "I'm beginning to think that it is."
     
    I finished the call and got another another one almost immediately.
     
    "Sawyer."
     
    "This is Detective Brenner. You know a kid named Frank Luckett?"
     
    I said, "Doesn't ring a bell."
     
    Brenner said, "He's a sophomore at Tulane. He had Dr. Hess for World History I and II this year. We found him dead in his apartment this afternoon."
     
    I asked, "Does it look related to the Hess case."
     
    "When we started investigating him, we found out that the Feds were looking at him. It appears that he was some kind of hacker. Same M.O. It's definitely looking like it is related."
     
    "Detective I'm beginning to get down right paranoid. Somebody torched my apartment building this morning sometime little after eleven o'clock."
     
    "Sawyer, whatever you got from Hess is like plutonium. It's killing everybody that it touches. We've got to talk, maybe get you in a safe house."
     
    I looked at my watch and said, "I've got to see a source at Oschner's Clinic at three. What you say I meet you downtown about five."
     
    "Good enough for me. Watch your back."
  12. JamesSavik
    Carter Tower
    Houston, Tx
     
    Jason Carter was an empire builder. From his 25th story penthouse office window, the cities of Houston and Baytown sprawled out below him as far as a man could see. As a young man of thirty he had taken moribund drilling company and through smart moves and indescribable effort had turned it into the fourth largest oil field services company in the world. All of the big oil companies did business with Carter Consolidated.
     
    His rigs did the drilling, his pipes did the moving, his terminals did the unloading of supertankers in the deep waters of the Gulf and his refineries did the cracking. Carter Consolidated, also known as or C Squared, did $220 billion in revenues annually and distributed a dividend every year without fail.
     
    Despite all of his money, power and genius, a problem confronted him that he didn't have an answer for. On his desk was a private investigators report of his 20 year old sons after hours activities at Louisiana State University. For a good Southern Baptist like Carter, those activities were pretty damning.
     
    As he read the report, it made his head spin and his stomach churn. He could forgive the weed. Hell- he had smoked weed in college until it got in the way. It was what his son Jake was doing with the other boy in the hot tub at 3am that bothered him.
     
    Had he been a bad father? His son Jake's passion had always been for baseball and he had been there every chance he had. When the high school team made the state finals, he flew the team to Austin and stayed to the bitter end. He had been there for birthdays, Christmas, Easter and Sunday church services for at least three Sundays out of every month.
     
    No. He couldn't blame himself. That was futile. As an engineer his natural inclination was to ask how do I fix this?
     
    This was an area completely outside his expertise. He needed information and he needed it fast before... his son was infected by HIV or found murdered in an ally. The lives that those people lead... His son was better than that.
     
    He looked in his personal phone-list, found the number for his pastor and dialed. Shiloh Baptist was a big, popular church and fairly progressive for the area but it still held true to its Southern Baptist roots. Carter's monthly contribution to the church made it financially strong and very active in the city.
     
    "Pastor Lefluer, this is Jason Carter. I need to talk to you about a very discrete and delicate matter..."
     
    * * * *
     
     
    New Orleans Herald
     
     
    Saturday morning at the paper was always a mad house as we finished up the Sunday edition. I had three stories: family values state senator from Alexandria was divorcing, the enduring legacy of Katrina series and the sale of surplus FEMA housing. Peter Boyles on the city desk had the Hess murder but wasn't going to do much with it until more details surfaced.
     
    My stories were all pretty much done by eleven and I started looking at the information that Hess had given me. Was this what got him killed? I made a copy of the list of names. They all appeared to be names, social security number, date of birth and city, state. None of them were over thirty and most clustered between 21 and 24. One from Miami, one from Atlanta, one from New Orleans, one from Dallas and the last from Houston. The one who had died was from Savannah, Georgia.
     
    They were all clustered across the South which made sense. The Bible belt is where people would be the most motivated to find a "cure".
     
    Some years ago I had done a piece on the Ex-gay movement when they had a conference in the city. What was the name of the psychiatrists from Oschner's Clinic that I interviewed? I looked through my rolodex and found the name that I was thinking of: Dr. Charles Benoit.
     
    I dialed his number but got a recording. I left a message and decided that I probably wouldn't hear from him until at least Monday.
     
    I called in my research assistant and gave him the list. My RA was a skinnny journalism student from Tulane. "Gabe- take this list and very quietly find out who these people are. Just use our in house people-search subscription. Keep it on the down-low."
     
    He looked at the list and said, "You don't know who Casey Renard is?"
     
    "The one from New Orleans? Oh... those Renard's. Old money family that ran much of the Port of New Orleans- the busiest port in North America."
     
    I thought to myself- at $250K per treatment, it would have to be the rich.
     
    Gabe went into his cubicle to search out the rest of names as my cell phone rang.
     
    "City Desk, this is Sawyer."
     
    "This is Charles Benoit returning your call Mr. Sawyer."
     
    "I appreciate you getting back to me so quickly. Some years ago we talked about the methods used by the Ex-gay movement."
     
    "Yes, I remember."
     
    "I have come across a new method that some people are marketing as a cure for homosexuality and I'd like to have someone who knows what they are talking about evaluate it."
     
    Benoit laughed, "There's no such thing as a cure for sexual orientation but I'm curious to see what you've got. Can you come by my office around three?"
     
    "Sure Dr. Benoit. I'll be there. Just do me a favor and keep this quiet. I'm not sure what I've got yet and I don't want egg on my face if this is a wild goose chase."
     
    "I understand. See you this afternoon."
     
    As I hung up the phone my editor rushed in, "Sawyer, your apartment building is on fire!"
  13. JamesSavik
    The Cure
     
    When I arrived home Dr. Hess's information was still downloading. I walked across the street and picked up a sandwich for supper and when I got back the download had finished at a cool 27.3 Gigabytes. When I Unzipped the file, I found that I had sixty Gbytes of data meticulously organized into folders cross referenced with scanned images of the source material in the original German and Russian.
     
    I scanned the list of patients that Dr. Hess had given me and then ran a backup routine that sent copies of all the files to the Herald's mainframe and my online backup company.
     
    After getting everything squared away I sat down and began to go through Hess's information from the beginning. I was ready to puke twenty minutes into the Auschwitz files. The things that they did to those poor people read like a hellish nightmare.
     
    They did every inhumane thing imaginable to their test subjects. Sensory deprivation, shock treatment, low protein diet, just plain torment for weeks and months over and over until the patient breaks. The Soviet methodology wasn't any better. The core of the process was to destroy the personality and replace it with whatever cover the case officer decided to give the sleeper.
     
    As I read through this horror, I had the nagging feeling that I was missing something. The method called for using long periods of sensory deprivation and then using a voice to guide the subject. After months and months of isolation, the subject would crave human contact and would comply with the first voice that they heard. The original personality wasn't destroyed. It was simply deeply submerged and could be instantly recalled using a word or phrase as a trigger.
     
    There was absolutely nothing in the material regarding sexual orientation. No mention at all. If the Freedom Clinic was using this to cure homosexuality, it didn't add up.
     
    I looked up from my work and the clock was closing in on 1 am. Time had gotten away from me again. I put the computer in sleep mode and collapsed on my couch.
     
     
    * * * *
     
    My sleep was fitful. The images of those people being tortured haunted me.
     
    Someone beating on my front door at a little after 5 am woke me up.
     
    I shook off the cobwebs and went to get the door.
     
    A big, grim faced detective was standing at my door flanked by his partner.
     
    "Mr. Sawyer, I'm Lt. Brenner New Orleans PD Homicide. I need to speak to you for a minute."
     
    I said, "Sure. Come on in. I'll put on some coffee and we'll talk at my kitchen table."
     
    The hulking detective and his partner followed me into my kitchen. I turned on the coffee pot and said, "Please. Have a seat. How can I help you?"
     
    Brenner asked, "Where were you at 7:30 last night?"
     
    I said, "Right here having a po-boy for supper."
     
    Brenner's partner said, "Can anybody back that up?"
     
    I reached into the trash can and retrieved the bag my sandwich had come in. I pulled out the receipt that was time stamped 19:33. I handed it to the detective and asked, "Good enough?"
     
    Brenner nodded. "I didn't really consider you a suspect but it's best to eliminate you early. Dr. Hess of Tulane was murdered at his home early last night. I understand you saw him yesterday."
     
    "George is dead?"
     
    "I'm afraid so. I understand that you've been friends for years."
     
    I was shocked into silence. I couldn't imaging anyone harming old George. He had always been a soft-touch for students and soft-spoken with everyone else.
     
    "Dr. Hess has been a friend since I was an undergraduate. I try to get by to see him every few weeks."
     
    Brenner asked, "When you spoke to him yesterday, was he nervous about anything?"
     
    "We talked about his latest work. He was talking about his studies of Cold War era manuscripts."
     
    Brenner's partner asked, "Have you even known him to gamble or have money problems?"
     
    I said, "No. His family owns a number of small oil refineries here and in Mississippi. He was comfortably well off and I've never known him to set foot in a casino."
     
    Brenner said, "Whoever killed him was looking for something. They tore his place apart and there's evidence that they tortured him. Does he ever have valuable manuscripts or artifacts?"
     
    "He would never take any of that stuff outside the controlled conditions of the archives at Tulane."
     
    Brenner said, "I know that you're a reporter but we would appreciate it if you kept quiet about any details of the murder. If we get some mutt in the interrogation room it might help us trip them up."
     
    I said, "I won't be on this story since I know the victim. If I can help in any way, give me a call on my cell."
     
    Brenner and I exchanged cards and the detectives left me drinking coffee and looking for answers.
  14. JamesSavik
    The Cure
     
     
    I didn't know what I expected to hear from Dr. Hess. Probably something I didn't want to hear or didn't want to know.
     
    Sources can be like that sometimes: pure bullshit or gold. You can never really be sure until you see and hear what they've got.
     
    Hess had been my history professor when I had been in the University. His specialty was the 20th century and he was great for background. More than once his insights had put my stories in the correct context and perspective. He had never steered me wrong before so whenever he called, I'd make the time to listen.
     
    I entered University History Department office late in the afternoon and a graduate assistant was manning the receptionist desk. She looked up and said, "Mr. Sawyer. Dr. Hess is expecting you. You can go right in."
     
    I thanked her and headed back into the warren of offices and his door was open.
     
    Dr. Hess was a little over sixty with white hair. He was sitting behind a cluttered desk which was home to two desktop PCs and a laptop. He looked up from his screen and said, "Kevin. Come in and pull the door closed if you don't mind."
     
    I closed the door and sat in the same chair that I sat in as a student talking to my faculty advisor years ago. I said, "Dr. Hess what have you got for me?"
     
    Hess said, "It's a long story that I think you might find interesting."
     
    I said, "Go ahead Doc. I'm off the clock and have time."
     
    "First, let me tell you where this comes from. In 1989 when the Soviet Union fell, the Russians sent us copies materials that they seized from the Nazis when Germany collapsed in 1945- material that has never been seen in the West before. For the last three years I have been studying it."
     
    Hess pulled some notes out and sat them on his desk in front of him. "It starts in Nazi Germany in 1943. The war is going poorly for Germany and the whole of their scientific establishment is pressed into service to find any weapon that can turn the tide of the war."
     
    I said, "I'm familiar with this part. Germany's wonder weapons: jet aircraft, super-tanks..."
     
    Hess nodded. "Yes. That's the part that most people know about from the History Channel. Other things were going on behind the scenes that we only now beginning to learn about. You see the Nazis were also interested in making weapons of their people."
     
    "Super-soldiers?"
     
    "They were looking into it", Hess replied. "but they were decades away from any real progress. They did make a big breakthrough in human conditioning."
     
    "At the Auschwitz death camps Dr. Mengele oversaw a large medical experimentation group. One of those groups was run by a young psychiatrist named Johan Muller who studied under Carl Jung in Vienna during the thirties. He developed a method of physical and psychological stress combined with drugs that he called the death of personality or Persönlichkeit Tod. Once a persons personality has been effectively destroyed, they could basically reprogram the subject to be anything they wanted them to be. They were the perfect sleeper agents: completely unaware of who and what they were. Unable to betray themselves or their mission even under extreme interrogation."
     
    I said, "That's terrifying. Agents so psychologically conditioned that don't even know whose side they are on."
     
    "Exactly. Although the Nazis made the breakthrough, they didn't have time to use it. In January 1945 the Soviets liberated Auschwitz and NKVD teams snatched up all the Nazi scientists and research that they could find. The Soviets immediately saw the value of Muller's research. The process is so rigorous that it killed about 10% of the subjects. They took the research and ran with it. By 1955 the Soviets were putting deep cover sleeper agents all over the world. That's why throughout the Cold War Western Intelligence Agencies seemed to be completely swamped by Soviet agents."
     
    I said, "Well- that explains a lot about the Cold War and it would make a good historic interest piece for the Sunday edition."
     
    Hess continued, "Perhaps it would but the story doesn't end there. The Soviets used Sleeper agents until the very end in 1989. It was only after the Archives were turned over and we got a few defectors that the CIA finally figured out what the sleepers actually were."
     
    "In 1990 a working group of various scientists were given access to the archives. They were tasked with finding anything that might be of scientific or medical use. Guess who was a member of the group?"
     
    I said, "I have no idea Doc."
     
    "Dr. Vernon Roth- fresh out of medical school and working on his psychiatric specialty at Georgetown."
     
    I searched my memory and the name did sound familiar. "As in Roth Pharmaceuticals?"
     
    "He is one of the elder Roth's three sons and key player in developing in Roth's multi-billion dollar line of psychiatric medications."
     
    I said, "Isn't he some sort of an anti-gay nut?"
     
    "Vernon Roth is a major contributor to anti-gay organizations all over the country and has ties to this clinic in Costa Rica."
     
    Hess handed me a very slick tri-folded glossy flier with a photo of a modern looking clinic in a tropical setting called the Freedom Institute. I turned the page of the flier and read a bold headline: Freedom from the Spiritual Bondage of Homosexuality.
     
    I said, "Doc are you saying that you think this clinic is using this Nazi developed and Soviet refined mind control method to reprogram homosexuals?"
     
    Hess said, "That's your story Kevin. Look at the details. The Soviet method of programming a sleeper took a year and two months. The clinic's program lasts one year and two months. It's very expensive- the cost of the treatment is over a quarter million dollars. It's the only method of treatment for homosexuality to boast a 100% success rate."
     
    "I've covered the Ex-gay movement here in the region and they only claim a 30% success rate."
     
    Hess said, "That's just it Kevin. Homosexuality is part of the personality at a very deep level. The only way to change it is to completely reorder the personality. This method is just how you would go about it."
     
    I said, "I like it. This would make a great story. Do you have anything more for me?"
     
    Hess handed me a sheet of paper with names and addresses. "This is a list of five people that have completed the therapy at the Freedom Institute and one more who died of a heart attack while he was undergoing treatment. It's not much but its a start."
     
    "Thanks Doc. I'll see what I can do with this. Would you mind emailing me more of the background?"
     
    Hess said, "I'll be waiting for you when you get home. Good luck Kevin.'
  15. JamesSavik
    Today I got the talk from my boss. His partner left the firm and he can't afford to keep me. I join the mass ranks of the unemployed.
     
    How can this day get any worse? Add a robbery. While I was inside a convenience store a thug helped himself to my new i-Phone, debit card and a gas card.
     
    Now I'm afraid to leave the house.
     
    Never ask What else could go wrong. It will.
     
    How many times do I have to get up after being floored? Just the next time.
  16. JamesSavik
    < ?
     
    I bit the bullet and joined the new millennium. I bought a smart phone.
     
    Specifically an Apple iPhone 4. It's an impressive piece of technology.
     
    My particular iPhone has 32 Gigabytes of memory.
     
    It is a Kindle.
     
    It is a web enable device.
     
    It is an iPod.
     
    I'm pretty sure it's got a phaser if I can just figure it out.
     
    However- I am a grown up. You'll never catch me sexting anybody. With my luck I'll send naughty pics to a wrong number that just happens to be a Fed.
     
    I wouldn't be caught dead playing Farmville on my smartphone. Maybe Cityville. Bah! No Facebook on my iphone! That's just... an obnoxious waste of my bandwidth.
     
    I am looking forward to taking pictures with my iPhones camera. 5 megapixels is pretty good for a phone camera. Maybe I'll reconsider sexting... but unlikely.
     
    Here my music load out on my phone. Look upon my play list and despair.
     
    Alan Parsons Project - Ammonia Avenue
    Blur - 13
    The Cars - the Cars
    The Cars - Candy-O
    Counting Crows - Films About Ghosts
    The Cranberries - the Best of the Cranberries
    David Bowie - Best of Bowie
    The Doors - the Doors
    The Doors - LA Woman
    The Eagles - Hotel California
    Green Day - American Idiot
    Gunz & Roses - Greatest Hits
    Jimi Hendrix - Smash Hits
    Nine Inch Nails - Pretty Hate Machine
    Nine Inch Nails - With Teeth
    Nirvana - the Very Best
    Pearl Jam - Rearviewmirror
    Pink Floyd - Animals
    Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon
    Pink Floyd - the Wall
    Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here
    The Police - Synchronicity
    REM - Eponymous
    Rolling Stones - Hot Rocks
    Rolling Stones - Some Girls
    Rolling Stones - Sucking in the Seventies
    Rush - 2112
    Rush - Moving Pictures
    Smashing Pumpkins - Greatest Hits
    Stabbing Westward - the Essential
    Staind - the singles
    STP - Core
    STP - No. 4
    STP - Purple
    STP - Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop
    Supertramp - Breakfast in America
    Supertramp - very best of
    Tool - AEnima
    Tool - Lateralius
    Tool - Undertow
    Tool - 10,000 Days
    U2 - War
    U2 - Under the Joshua Tree
    The Who - My Generation
    The Who - Who Are You?
    The Who - Who's Next?
    Yes - the Yes Album
    Yes - Close to the Edge
    Yes - Fragile
     

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwFgGJI0DhU
     
    < avoid this
  17. JamesSavik
    Sometimes I feel horrible. Usually it hits in the cold of winter but I've got a solid blast of pain in the heat of the summer.
     
    The stiffness and pain aren't really so bad. As far as pains go, I've had worse. It just doesn't go away for days at a time. Today its in my ankles and knees. Other times it'll be in my neck and shoulders and it is always in my neck to some extent.
     
    I get pain fatigue. I get tired of it. Sometimes it interferes with my sleep. I only got about 4 hours last night and work feels like I've been here all week.
     
    What to do? I don't know. Arthritis, bursitis, old wounds healed over poorly- I've got a little bit of it all of that going on.
     
    Those of you who wonder how people get hooked on drugs, here's a clue: chronic pain does it for a lot of people. I don't plan on doing any drugs that aren't over the counter but... I must admit that I am sorely tempted. I'd feel a lot better with a solid 8 hours sleep without tossing and turning and trying to lay in the least uncomfortable position possible.
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