I didn’t just… wait I did just start writing one day and have yet to stop. Okay. One day the torture group expressed an opinion they had been fostering. I should now tweet to the world all of my torture experience. This was in 2016. That’s not so interesting. It’s everything here stretched out and repeated over the course of two and a half years. This process is the torture group sharing information about themselves through an avatar who is one of their victims without the true intention of really sharing anything which might harm the torture group. It’s a conundrum. Or a game. Either way I’m winning by being subversive.
I hear ideas being thrown out all the time. The thought voice just states a topic and in one brief overview dictates it out. This doesn’t mean I will walk to the computer and write it down. I sometimes do. It means the game is in play. I might hear a really good essay on the torture dictated out in full for only me to hear and not be allowed to write it down. Or I might hear the essay and then go to write it down with the thought voice changing it as I write. I might not remember it later. Ahem, I mean hear it again later to write it. Or what I wrote might be brand new to me as I write it down.
I theorize that there are two methods of communicating to me to get information out; as pitiful as my information is. One way is for the torture operator to write down his essay or tweet in the computer system for the computer to run on its schedule. The other way seems to be occurring live.
It’s a whole process torturing me. They have to create these small potatoes torture games to play. They think I hate their behavior. They think they frustrate me. They also think I can only register information as my thought voice states it in live time. I’m not believed to remember anything they tell me. Which is a weird and contrasting concept for the torture group. They also appear to want to psychologically and physically train me. Which I would require memory to achieve. But hell, it’s just my only communications about the torture which I can give to the outside world as written by the people doing the torture. Sure they’re in disguise but they did write this. Or rather we did.