Grown: A Thriller By

Copyright © 2010 by Matthew B.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2010916909

ISBN: Hardcover    978-1-4568-1599-8

ISBN: Softcover      978-1-4568-1598-1

ISBN: Ebook          978-1-4568-1600-1

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Prolog:

Awytok—It Won’t Stop

PART 1

Darkness

Heaven—Good Night, Family

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Intercops—Ground Black-Door Virtuality

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: A Hacker and His Worries

Fantasy I

Marcus Bearer—Good Morning

Marcus Bearer—Spending the Day

Awytok—A Freaky Appearance

Marcus Bearer—Afternoon

Awytok—Evening

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Intercops II—Ant Farm and Ants

Fantasy II—Elf Child

Marcus Bearer—Night Deleter

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: About Intercops, Soccer, and Politicians

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Henry Pitter I

Marcus Bearer—the E-Mail to Intercops

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: The Illuminati I

The Drunken Illuminati I

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Japan I

On the Other Side of Japan

Marcus Bearer—Followed

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: The Unseen I

The Drunken Illuminati II

Marcus Bearer Blog: Intercops III—Basement Child

Fantasy III—Cemetery

Marcus Bearer II—The Tables

Marcus Bearer—Caught or Contacted

Fantasy IV—Decision

Marcus Bearer VIII—Shining in a New Light

Marcus Bearer—It Made Round

Awytok—Soccer WM Is Soon

Marcus Bearer—Good Morning II

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Hackers

Hackers I

Awytok—private Diary Around January 2010

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: The Girl and the Cube Jellyfish

Fantasy V—The Dream of Deep Waters

Marcus Bearer—Number 33’s First E-Mail

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—P-Filer’s Repressions

Marcus Bearer Blog—P-Filers Jealousy

Awytok—Just Playing a Game

Marcus Bearer—Beer and Sushi

Marcus Bearer—Number 33’s Second E-Mail

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Doctor of Medicine/Know/No I

Awytok’s Nightmare about the Chopped Child

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Doctors Know/No II

Awytok—Hating Doctors Medicines Forever

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Doctors Know/No III

Fantasy VI—The Healer

Awytok—A Sys Terrorist and His Motives and Repression

Marcus Bearer—Good Morning E-Mail

Marcus Bearer Blog: SysOps

Marcus Bearer—SysOp’s Version of Your Child

Marcus Bearer—SysOps’ as Meta Control Unit

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—SysOps’ Eternity

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Children’s Meta Control Don’t Talk Afterward

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—How Is This Possible

Marcus Bearer—Time-Out

Marcus and Jeanette—Escort Lady Jeanette

Marcus and Jeanette—In the Pub

Fantasy VII—The Pub

Awytok—A Fucked Reunite

Marcus Bearer—Invited Somewhere in Netherlands

Awytok—Situation Sugar Baby I

Yoshiba I—Just Her

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Sysops Repression

Awytok—Situation Sugar Baby II

Marcus Bearer—Some E-Mails

Marcus Bearer Blog: The Fucked Reunite I

Marcus Bear Blog: The Fucked Reunite II

Awytok—Some Rumors in the Subconsciousness

Cosa Nostra—Repressioni

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Vatican et Cosa Nostra I

Marcus Bearer—Sleepless

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Vatican et Cosa Nostra II

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Vatican et Cosa Nostra III

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Vatican et Cosa Nostra IV

The Darkest Tables

Fantasy VIII—The Sect

Awytok—The Fucking Freaks Do Believe

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Doctors’ Version of the Holy Grail

Fantasy IX—Living Forever

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—MMM’s Child Rape Announcements

Awytok Looking for 2149

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Sorry That It Is So, Happy Easter Egg Looking for and so . . .

Awytok—Checking Some More Blogs of 2149

Marcus Bearer—Protective Custody Version Self-Made

Awytok—The Vatican/Cosa Nostra Blogs

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Protective Custody or Actually Not

TheHackers.com—MrHacker

Marcus Bearer—Some Kind of Resistances

Fantasy X—In the Woods

Awytok—Preparing

Yoshiba and Yoriko I—In the Club

Intercops Headquarter’s Diversity in light

Awytok—A Fucking Freak Recognized Something

Marcus Bearer—Good Morning in Self-Made Custody

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: NaSA I

Awytok—Reading 2149’s Newest Blog

Yoshiba and Yoriko II—Almost-Safe Sex

Fantasy XI—Elves with Breasts the Size of Apples

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Some Blogs I

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Churchency

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: NaSA II

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: the Interstellar Species, the Sendjr

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: MMM’s School Child Misery

Awytok—Good Morning

Awytok—Back to the Topic

Marcus Bearer—International Affair in Intercops

Awytok—A Fucking Freak’s Round

Fantasy XII—The Meet

Marcus Bearer: What He Didn’t Figure

Awytok—Active within Coordination

Marcus Bearer—Some Blogs II

Psitekk’s First Strike Round

Fantasy XIII—Entering the Dark of Sondene

Marcus Bearer and Jeanette in the Hotel Room

Finding the Hot Spot

Awytok—After the Battle

Marcus—The Child Rape Hide Dark Net Made By . . .

The Drunken Illuminati IV

2149’s E-Mail to Awytok

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—MMM Archetypes

The Fucked Reunite and Others Reaction

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Child Rapist Archetypes Seen

Paradoxon Underage:

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Don’t Give It Up Fucked

Awytok—A Freaky Appearance

Intercops—Worst Case Awytok

Fantasy XIV—A Member of the Black Crew

Marcus Bearer—Some Blogs III

Psitekk—Good Night

Checking the Apartment

Psitekk—Good Morning

Marcus Bearer—Some Blogs IV

Awytok—Good Afternoon

Fantasy XV—After the Battle

Jeanette at Work

Awytok, Hot Zones

Marcus and Jeanette—Spending the Afternoon

Awytok—MMM done

Some Drum and Bass

Drunken Yoshiba

Awytok—Contacting UNFs (United Nations Foundation) Human Law Court

Awytok—UNF’s Human Law Court First Responses

Marcus and Jeanette—Spending the Night Together

Awytok—UNF’s Human Rights Court Second Responses

Jeanette and Marcus—Good Morning

Awytok—After the Bad Knockout Sleep

Marcus Bearer—Checking the E-Mails

Awytok—Figuring the Mess

Intercops—Just Checking Awytok

Awytok—Restarting

Awytok—Heaven, or Whatever It Should Be/Whatever It Is Then

Awytok—E-Mail to Marcus

Awytok—The Farce about Light

Awytok—Something Out of the Past, the Incas

PART TWO

Light

Heaven—Mommy’s Love

Marcus—Looking Forward

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Let the Children Play

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: How to Treat Children

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Toys, Toys, Toys

Awytok—Kindergarten

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Kindergarten Teachers

The Subway Group—The Company Ten Talk

Subway Group—The Company Ten Talk Aftershow

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Money, Money, Money . . .

Awytok—Some Information

Marcus Bearer—Children and Their Own Ghosts

Awytok—Trying to Write His Private Journal

Yoshiba—Looking for Marcus

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: An Illuminati Child

Jeanette and Sonja—A Friend from the Past Job

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Ghosts Around the Children I—Magic

Awytok and Psitekk—A Short Talk

Jeanette—Starting the New Job

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Ghosts Around the Children II—Animals

MMM—In the Inner

Awytok—MMM Contacting Awytok

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Ghosts Around the Children III—Profession Types

Awytok—At Home/Conspiracy by UNF

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Pedomancy

Awytok—The Good Morning after MMM

Awytok—Conclusions About Conspiracy Free Child Sex

Marcus and Jeanette—Founding a Family

Awytok—Breaking Off with Everything

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Episodes Out of Children’s Experience Case I

Awytok—The McCinseys Once Again

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Episodes Out of Children’s Experience Case II

Intercops—Teardown Among MMM

Marcus Bearer’s Blog—Episodes Out of Children’s Experience Case III

Awytok—Down at the Lake

Marcus and Jeanette—It Happened

Awytok—It Won’t Stop

Outro—Children Cry

About the Author

Drum and Basser—Warriors in between

Prolog:

Awytok—It Won’t Stop

{—And why is this so? USA ordered some kind of special round. Organ tearing will happen earlier or later to everyone. It depends on your status by the doctors and on the status among USA CIA. Next to simply your age, say bye-bye to your life as you know it when you turn thirty. They want 1986 or Brave New World fully and this as behaviorized android humans . . .

The decade gaps made by doctors could be watched as an index if they really still do it or not.

About The Conspiracy Free Child Sex, hm . . .

I don’t know exactly, we tried . . .

MMM, the fully rest of the package and specially SysOps are still active or not, sometimes do they even lie . . . When SysOp doesn’t exist no more, then is this conspiracy solved. I do hope this will happen . . .

I would say, suicide shouldn’t be illegal. Even not through repression by 911, 112, 144, just do . . .

It won’t stop.

The resistance even not.

So don’t do! And keep yourself busy with something, that you like . . . Like running away . . . —}

Awytok closed the file of his private journal and went to smoke a cigarette, what will happen, when this Marcus Bearer or 2149 did release his Blog Book?

I the hell do understand him, this Matthew B. or Matthias Bärlocher. I the hell read half the book with hating him . . . He seems to be the Character Awytok in the book, it even open, such a crazy bastard . . . Mumbled the older gentleman, who did buy Grown a couple of weeks before. He did put the book once again, for a while, away, after he read it . . .

After a while sitting, breathing and thinking, thought he, he will never again, need to use the character Marcus Bearer as an author again, hopefully . . .

Somewhere did buy somebody the book Growing, which year he had, couldn’t get figured . . .

Part 1

Darkness

Heaven—Good Night, Family

The mommy takes her child to the bedroom; it’s nine o’ clock in the evening. The child talks about his day.

We do a bird out of wood in the school, Mommy. The teacher shows us how. You can pull a cord, and the bird flies, Mommy.

She takes the child’s T-shirt off and helps him into the pajamas. The child makes a noise when she puts it over his head.

And come trousers even. The child sits on the border of the bed, and she takes his pants off. And she helps him into his pajamas.

It’s time to sleep now, tomorrow you can work further on the bird. Dream of flying, I wish you, fly like a bird. And she gives him a kiss on the forehead.

She takes steps back to the living room; her husband is sitting on the sofa.

He’s in bed now, darling. He told me they are working on a bird in school. She smiles and sits close to him.

Do you wanna finish this movie, or shall we go to bed?

Already? Then we have more time, have we?

Yes, come on, let’s go to the bedroom. She holds her hands crossed in his hands and pulls him up.

He stands up, lets one of her hands go, and turns the TV off. He takes her other hand again, and they go to the sleeping room. Turning every room light off, as they walk by.

When they arrive in the bedroom, they close the door and lock it.

They start to undress each other, and she starts to kiss him, single kisses on forehead, neck, chest, and deeper, on the muscles of his belly. She takes his underwear off and gives him a kiss on his penis. She starts to give him a blow job, sucking and sucking, unless he was hard.

They make each other comfortable on the bed; he lies on his back. She takes her pants and panties off and sits on him, still wearing her T-shirt.

She holds his penis in her hand and enters. He sighs, and again. She starts to ride on him. No condom, no disturbance, just pure sexual love.

The child is alone in his bed and on his way to sleep or half the way already sleeping. A lot of streaming and pressure happens; his heart beats fast. A lot of energy is floating around. He breathes regularly, deeply, and he feels joy.

Slowly flying to the skyscape of dreams.

In the bedroom, she switches her position. She lies on him completely, gives him a long tongue kiss. Still riding. Sweating makes her skin slippery. And she licks some of the sweat off his chest.

The energy is on both sides, floating, concentrated on the hips. It gets tense and more tense. The waves of the feelings, like water, are slowly bursting into a fountain. He holds her with all his strength and contracts his ventral and leg muscles and tries to hold it back, just a few moments more.

His wife’s bottom light eruptions into a fountain, and she starts coming about ten seconds before him. He didn’t hold it back anymore; she’s still moving, in the rhythm of her orgasm. And he ejaculated into her.

Tired and breathing heavily, she is still lying on him; they’re both flabby.

I love you, darling.

She watches him straight into the eyes, as she mumbled this.

I love you too, darling. And gives him a long, wet kiss.

Somewhere, children fly to Peter Pan’s wonderland. Some fly to Atlantis . . .

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: Intercops—Ground Black-Door Virtuality

Marcus Bearer was typing. It was some kind of rubbish. He didn’t know exactly why he started typing and to what it will lead. He was without any plan, even without any goal. He just wrote, probably because he wanted to get rid of some thoughts. Getting rid of these thoughts and knowledge that he kept inside.

Marcus Bearer’s Blog: A Hacker and His Worries

!—No, I am in pressure of Intercops, so I do make it topic. It’s a totalitarian force of a centralized police organization. They had become sociopathic, psychopathic. They cheated with humanity one and totalism. The second Stasi and Intercops is meant.

And it’s reality in my real time. They check in a spooky way what I write, what music I do, which vocals I do think about, and sometimes, they decide breakdowns just for fun. I did deliver them once some information for free and sold is being without reason hunted, a rumor kitchen created by them, what comes close to a conspiracy. And they really would just call it gossip. But something strange happened today. And Intercops is on the way to reestablish their IP dark net, and the next strange thing will happen, and they will try to reestablish their IP dark net and next strange thing does happen and they try to reestablish . . .

I somehow did share table for a while, with them, but no more, mean both sides, do they? So I rechew, what happened:

It was sometime in summer 2008, when MMM had done their year moon know shift. There happened to a lot of people a frontflash (the other way around of what a flashback is). It was an IP overlap with the time range of a year across a year to past; a dark net overlaps across a year, which was done by MMM. Simply described; Future fell down and a lot of people saw, a lot of things of people, about what will be . . .

And so many people ended in Intercops headquarter, just because the headquarter was left as IP real time. And what was seen wasn’t liked. They had done their nearby work; they tried to create a totalistic police system for the Internet. They done even/or for else, their informatics did think it through. It was a fucking virtual mass grave, and the complete humanity was scanned, and the criminals were in. They wanted to handle the Internet crimes the virtual kind, as side work. Totalitarianism pure . . .

Because a lot of things are actually protected by the right of privacy. And Internet delivers almost everything to the screen, does it? And after their own opinion, after what they did see nearby, with watching around with persons, to watch around with the private persons eyes; what some would call x-work or sidework, done they adapts for the police systems the virtual kind for the country of these person. Totalitarianism pure . . . Here’s an example:

If someone stupid downloads some illegal underage porn or someone is a hacker, they do figure that sooner or later, if you’re known as white paper or as terrorist, it doesn’t matter. Because they function totalistic with/through IP. With through humanity see or after mentions in sidelines or black phones, what actually after the weight of law, more or less still just a rumor is. Then it happens when an entry in a virtual HD-bit-database occurs, and you get thrown into the specific society floor. Held by your local police.

No judgment, without an judge . . .

I call this just society terrorism now and Intercops is meant.

Planetary Stasi Intercops. Right extremists thought through in the end of the French Illuminati. While I was writing this part, a lot of Intercops’ workers drifted through me. Sometimes they delivered black shivid. They have it at the moment, the other way around.

I did then decide after one of the first breakdown, by figuring how they function. To enter the sys-terrorists underground. The full story about this is this:

I sneaked Intercops’ sys-know and really found the entry that I should be a sys terrorist. Probably I have this virtual entry in a know base right because I started to figure Intercops’ dark net and inner functionality. You know what I had done? I gave them my address open per black phone. With the comment so I am a system terrorist. I was a Fucking Freak since 1994, but this freaked me out fully. In the end, do they protect capitalism? But not as they should, just for right extremists and money big in the range multiple mn and bn. And just based on a rumor kitchen, shouldn’t they start to adapt police’s repression systems for single persons. What when just slander made by the rich does happen?

This is society terrorism. It’s probably seldom in your real time and in the future. Because it seems this was/is the first and the last time that they would try to create a virtual police system for virtuality. As long as no evidence exists, they aren’t allowed to do something. Means no judgment without a judge, hm . . . It’s part of the Human Rights, is it?

We got treated as would we have a virtual doggy line among the neck and that in a time range of about two years as I experienced it. Just because they saw something like a sideline. Almost every Fucking Freak was in. And we are honestly really just ego-shooter players sitting at home in front of the computer that sometimes do take care of the hot. With mainly that, it seems/seemed to be the problem a bit, with mainly US or US military support. The Fucking Freak range at least. There are other open conglomerates of islands of gamers and system freaks. Some even based on other countries. There is even something called System W.

I could not start that small conspiracy against Intercops, could I? You read it. It started. What’s the solution for problem, Intercops? Straight paper! And that globally you don’t wanna know or you do wanna know how Islamic, Asian, African, or South American people and contacts by them become treated. The Intercops headquarter is in France, is it? I hopefully didn’t mess that; I think I didn’t. Sometimes they play Sims or Ants with other police workers and from there with the society around. Just on cause they saw.

The problem is really their totalitarianism, and they should actually just be a straight information flow, without gossip or rumors or sidelines. Because it’s their work actually, and their work is actually just hunting criminals that did crimes for real and across countries.

We analyzed their nearby work and sidebiz, but as mentioned, they tried to sys sneak us. We do Sys sneak them, do we? The goal is actually going distant by them, is it? There is nothing based on law, about virtual Sys sneaking, and probably there will never be a law against it. Because how do you wanna prove it? It’s at the boundaries to espionage, is it? But we do stay virtual, do we? And what I wrote here is in the end the private opinion of Mr. Bearer or Mr. 2149 and just a blog.

I do like my white paper, and I don’t try to make money with crime of whichever kind. So if there should be some kind of strange sideline/rumor about Mr. Bearer or Mr. 2149, check it from the law’s viewpoint about character assassination. Police does hate me because I do analyze the borders/boundaries of it/them and even their mistakes. Kitchen gossip Intercops, I don’t like that much. And they don’t like me that much.

They had really done that mistake. They tried to create a virtual police system for virtuality. We do have straight paper law for virtuality/Internet. It’s mainly the laws about espionage, are they? Since humans have television, happened even the try to create a police for black door reality, didn’t that happen? And now we have the beginning of the Internet age around 2010. Internet is still young; it will absorb television, mean some . . .

They are a bunch or right extremists that play in the worst case the game simulation through the screen view system or glubshing or view line system. I don’t know, how to describe this in a different way; You see even sometimes the ring, do you? A bad demon follows and sometimes squeezes an ant.

Another high-end thing in their informatics are planetary sculls or sorted archetype sculls. When you have the wrong definition and you get for example thrown into the scull for a crime type that you do hate, then you have probably the tendency to become so. Because your space is filled up with this then. Read an international smart newspaper and a newspaper with a lot of big images. Do you recognize Stasi’s sorting system? It’s ant-farm society, and who thought it through in the end? The thing with the newspaper with the big images can’t go on. We have 2010, the eighties—or nineties-born hate and ignore them more or less, do they? They are smart at least. I don’t want to become like my father and I won’t. What do the numbers about selling of such newspapers mean? Does get the society with understandment bigger or the society dumbasses/voyeurs.

Intercops Headquarter is watched by many people.

Worst thing is they sometimes hold guilt or things that happened in substance, things that happened by black door, in dream rooms, in churches even and sometimes even things that happened for real. This police know these three realities. The reality ground, where the police actually is, the reality black door, and the reality virtuality.

Some freaks called the Anarchist Cookbooker, with YouTube bombs clips for free, do sometimes a lining through the Intercops headquarter, then they remember in dark matter states the explosion. It’s half the way a private cold war, by Internet’s underground. And it is liked and supported by society ranges that aren’t that small, not even necessarily poor. It’s liked even among a lot of rich people and people that have influence. It creates a firewall against Intercops’ madness. This firewall is in between Intercops’ totalism and society humanity.

They just didn’t achieve the adapts to virtuality with sense. Some call it lawless and Intercops’ police connectedness, in shape of their dark nets is meant.

Topic switching I have enough. I achieved not to shivid/shake/shivering, while I write. Just keep on reading.

Some kind of blog of 2149.—!

He stopped typing and went to smoke a Camel. Just an addition about Mr. 2149: it’s his membership number on an Internet Security website. They have about 320,000 members. He’s proud about being number 2149.

Fantasy I

Die brainless golem, die! he screamed. He was trapped, he and his horse. He was in a small valley with a dead end. He rode fast, and golems are actually really slow, so he rode close nearby them. But now he’s trapped in that damn valley, and the golem is coming.

He wanted just to travel this path, but he didn’t know it. It’s the first time he rides along here. He just has the path description and the village Sandan, which he wants to reach and which was still far away. The golem walked angrily, looking into the small entrance of the valley. The elf stepped on the ground, held his horse no more at the rein, and took the bow out.

The golem glanced angrily at the elf with the bow. The golem is made out of loam and is actually empty. He’s an earth elementary and kept on moving slow. The elf took an arrow out and mumbled,

Wateris elemtaris odones. Windaris elementaris odones.

Some words to dial a water elementary, he repeated them a couple of times. The wind blew up, and clouds filled up the sky. The golem looked even more angry, made a strange sound, and kept walking.

The elf reaches the final words, the arrow tense in the bow. On the final term, he released the arrow. He follows with his view how the arrow flies. If he doesn’t hit the weak point of the golem’s eye, he has to flee. The problem is a bit, from here to where, trapped in this valley.

Eternity stood still. The golem looked astonished. The arrow did hit. And the cursed arrow exploded in the golem’s left eye. Water started to melt him. He took off angrily and screamed his last few steps and fell flowing on the ground and melted with the soil.

There was silence. The wind surrounded him now. The echo of the golem’s scream vanished completely.

The elf sucked back the rest of the energies flowing around this atmosphere bowl and prepared to leave; there could be more of them.

The weather did change. He sat back on the horse, took the path over the rest of the golem’s laom, out of this valley. Looking for his path.

Marcus Bearer—Good Morning

Marcus Bearer was on the way to wake up. He was still lying on his bed. He slowly reached consciousness again. He dreamed of a Japanese female. It’s not the first and probably not the last time that he dreamed of her. She was his space girlfriend, a chat partner, from the faraway country of Japan.

He turned around in bed and yawned. He slept with shorts and was topless.

After another couple of moments, his alarm clock didn’t ring. He just didn’t own one. He opened his eyes and saw the light from the morning sun that shined through his windows. He moved on his back, yawned again, and sat up. He stroked his short hair and breathed deeply a couple of times.

A nice good morning to myself, he said. He was alone in his room. In his room were a bed and a built-in wardrobe. Next to it were some books, thrillers and books about computers. He stood up and got dressed, a fresh shirt and the pants from yesterday, still barefoot. He went to his small kitchen in his two-and-half-room apartment and made a strong coffee in an oversized cup. In the living room was a big couch and his computers; he had three of them. He just kept the old PC when he got a new one. He was working mainly with the newest, the fastest. The other he used as backup or seldom to raytrace something, but mainly to let traces run.

With that he hacked, traced data. It was a technical thing, a gap in the security. It was possible with an own traffic webserver to trace the data that was going through. With a Trojan horse program, it was possible to do that even on other webservers that weren’t his own. Than happened a lot of filtering, what needed time, then the second round filtering by hand and checking the data, that got delivered after keywords.

He started his work on the computer, went to the balcony, and smoked a Camel. He lived in Zürich City, close to a circle. A circle is an area of the city for mid-rich people. It’s suited close to the waterside of the Zürich lake. The morning traffic meant welcome to the new day. He enjoyed his Camel and drunk a big gulp of his coffee.

Afterward, he went back inside and sat in front of the computer and logged in with the user name 2149. The password was made out of just four letters. The computer logged in. He opened automatically the e-mail and chat software. His space girlfriend from Japan was online, as she was so often in the morning. Because of the time zone gap, he chatted with her mainly in the morning and the evening. It fitted best both of them.

As he sat in front of his computer, he turned to the left side and packed out of the second bureau table some cocaine and prepared a really small line. He was a daily user, but an aware user. His usual were two lines a day, not more as normal people would pack twice in one line, and seldom did he took some more. It happened usually when he was active in the night. Then he started some music. It was a Drum and Bass podcast.

He clicked on the name of Yoshiba and started typing.

Good morning. Weather is nice, with yeah, so hopefully even in the afternoon. He wrote.

I don’t have much time, great, it’s dark already here. She answered. His view line followed and his seat felt warmer. He felt her over this distance. He was even able to watch her when he was in the state. Without webcam is meant, both where able for third eye sight and they made sometimes jokes the spooky kind. Next to it, they sometimes made ghost love, after discussion in the web or as a surprise. It isn’t that tricky as being enlighted and being one with the other person. It’s pure empathy. You don’t see clearly through the webcam. You just see actually the energy bowl of the person, and faces do have light. Means the see mainly the aura of the other and not like cam everything.

Marcus Bearer was even some kind of a neomentalist. It means mainly that he has the ability for the combination of digitality and mentalism. I just let it stay.

I don’t know what I could do today, any suggestions? he asked.

Just think of me, then I dream well. She typed back. My day wasn’t much unusual, I was busy with some business. I don’t tell you.

So let it be, I even can’t tell you everything, so good night. I’ll write you later. He typed.

OK, bye.

What he knew was that she was a young yakuza, or probably she’s lying in this case, but why would she? She didn’t tell him that much. But he liked the chat minutes with her. It was somehow a let’s feel each other. Distance didn’t matter. The planet earth became somehow smaller since Internet.

He took the last gulp of his coffee. He was awake and ready. So a short think through, what’s up today?

He’s still working on a tool in J, which was a priority. He should look for another freelance offer in J. He will just check the usual contacts. He will see if somewhere a project is open. When he has some time left, he will play some ego shooter or watch even a movie. And he might go for a beer walk in the afternoon.

At the moment, he checked the news channel. With his PC, he bought a TV adapter for it. He liked to be informed. Some news about the earthquake a couple of days before ran. He zapped away to the market channel. Markets looked stable; he owned some shares and checked it online. It was stable in a slow manner. He’s actually a peak point of being buyer/seller by being patient.

Afterward he checked the e-mail inbox. There was an e-mail from 5456 with the attachment of a crack for a tool he liked. Not much up. So lazy day. He decided to eat some corn with yogurt and to play then the adventure he started a couple of days before.

He could look for a project later.

Marcus Bearer—Spending the Day

He played almost all morning long this damn senseless adventure. It wasn’t even especially fun; it was a time filler somehow. Emotionally at the boundary of being bored he just clicked and followed in mind the knowledge about the story. A low-level functionality. For such games, you need to get some marijuana, then everything glows with color, and the feeling rises. Even boredom vanishes then. But he didn’t like this drug that much; it makes the mind dizzy.

After a while he checked the time again and went out. He needed some cigarettes and something to eat. He was a lazy cook. He didn’t cook every day and when he did, he made big portions that he even had for the next couple of days something to eat. It was mainly something like fried rice, cinque pi, semolina pudding.

He went out the front door and stepped on the side street of the circle where he lived. He went to a cheap store. This cheap store sold even sushi packages. The cheapest he ever found till now. The good thing with sushi about this is: quality standards are high, so it didn’t much matter. The price, weight comparement was it, what counted. He took two, paid them, and walked out of the store.

Then straight to the kiosk, and there he bought three packages of Camel. And then he decided, what he does irregularly, to buy a newspaper. Everything done, he went back home.

He enjoyed one of the sushi packages on his balcony. He thought of the Japanese female while he ate and caught a glance of her sleeping. It was how it was about this. When he read something, it wasn’t just words and sentences. He imagined them and had the description completely, as would it be a movie. As a comparement. He knew she was even able, his miss spooky.

He took a lot of wasabi; he liked it and was able to eat it. The trick was to mix it in the mouth instantly with the fish and not let it come too much on the tongue. He thought why the hell only the Japanese ate their fish uncooked. Only the Eskimos were the other.

Whatever, so the Japanese owned this kitchen monopole, he liked it.

After he ate, he smoked the Camel and went back inside. He checked if there were any freelance projects open, but there was nothing. So he would try next week. He took his second small line of cocaine.

Then he thought about doing a new hack; he had just thought of it as of the moment. He had enough money; he wasn’t stressed about this. He had about 200,000 bucks as black money somewhere, with the possibility to wash it slowly. Next to about 60,000 bucks white-washed money, some in the shape of shares. So there was no problem at all.

It was a rule that he used as a hacker that staying small was part of being careful. He would probably never stop hacking as long as it’s possible. But Macrosoft (I’m sorry, it isn’t Macrosoft . . .) will probably be that nice to bring a new bugged version of their system software. Being a hacker was about staying up-to-date; it was about self-education and doing that every day. A knowledge hunter, knowledge was the money in the end, and most of this knowledge were details about the systems and protocols. Always looking for a gap and programming a tool, that lets you use this gap.

So he spent the next two hours on websites with technically nonsense about Internet and especially the software with that it runs. A lot of reading and printing and highlighting. A lot of sorting and bookmarking.

He did forgot that it’s sunny.

Awytok—A Freaky Appearance

After a while, sitting down at the lake, he pivoted the beer bottle. Cause the yeast is attached at the bottom of the bottle, and he took the last big gulp. He took one of the cheapest cigarettes out that were available and smoked. He did buy the cheapest one, cause he didn’t had money at all, he was a social aid and working poor. Thoughtless he sat there and enjoyed the diversity of the water’s reflection, the clouds, the waterside in front on the other side, the plants around . . . Everything did reflect in the divers sized waves of the water surface.

Awytok’s full name was whoever, hm . . . He knew till now nothing about the existence of Marcus Bearer, but will learn him to know, to make it clear from the begin, cause of some Illuminati kind of confusion. They are two persons, who will never meet eye in eye, but in cyberspace. That their names, are coming not even close to each others, isn’t coincidence. This for the book reality, in reality is Marcus Bearer in the end a creation of Matthias Bärlocher, means Marcus Bearer is fully a character in the book, hm . . . Some mean, Marcus Bearer is the only character without a existence in reality, who thought him? Bye, bye, side plan of the Illuminati. Is it now clear Illuminati?

Then he stood up and went back home. He walked with his head held up high. He was a little bit taller than the average. With his not so heavy oversized baggy pants and with his T-shirt, he looked like a stylish, somehow still young stayed person.

He seldom watched other people in the eyes. He just walked along.

Back at home, he took the newspaper on the table and started reading the front page. He made some notes and a sketch. It’s half the way his work in spare time. It was about reading even the sidelines and entering spaces like smoke. Not provable circumstantial evidences, this was somehow his interest, among his know tradings. Things, that couldn’t become explained properly . . .

Right to find the answer for these unexplainable things and he was good with this . . .

It were things, about this people just mumbled and he used even his word for this. This made him unique, and often was he even active among such things. He had some fundamental indexes, and he actually left them never, else would he called something just some kind of enemy territory. He hated virtuality, cause it wasn’t reality and he analyzed virtuality at the same time all over. Just to handle it, to control it and often to prevent, even destroying it.

The index, that he didn’t liked to loose, was Gaya . . .

A lot of images that were hand painted and some cyber art. One computer table, his working place, computers with two screens. A bookshelf with a lot of books and just a few magazines—he just didn’t had the money for that. A stack of old newspapers. A lot of wires lying on the corner.

He saw it as he started reading. Often he stroked his head and turned the pages. He seemed to read it almost fully. He really sometimes decided to read it just through. Every damn article written, it has something to do with will, with being preserving.

Awytok read an article about child abuse among the Christian priests. A glance of the past flashed by him. He didn’t understand why priests did that. Is it really just because of celibacy? Why don’t they go to prostitutes? Why don’t they secretly have a girlfriend? It’s strange that some priests do that crap. He wasn’t a Christian at all, Awytok. His beliefs were conducted to some kind of cyberspace ethos. He’s grown as one of the first-generation teen in the Internet.

But he had a far extended life experience. He just read a lot of books mainly as a tween. And these books were pretty special. There were a lot of fantasy with a lot of elves, magic, and other fable creatures. There were a lot of historical novels that showed the life of these medieval people. He read even some belletristic, some biographies. And the real special part of the books in his library were the books about magic and magicians. About the good old classical European magician stuff. It doesn’t mean that he would cut rope botch together as would it be new. It was more about spaces, about the macrocosmic environment and the microcosm of the person that he represents and its interactions. It was about the balance of the forces and to influence them. It was about synchronicity, about perfection, about will.

He kept reading the newspaper. Another article was about a green fund, a 100 billion investment against the climate change. That’s new and a big amount, will it get used wisely.

An article about the millions some bankers deserve as boni. Awytok recognized some view lines and didn’t ignore them. He made some know services that were meta and sometimes he has dials to figure a viewpoint or opinion. He even has known markets. He looked sometimes like a know central that seemed to be pretty big. And his services usually did fit.

This was really the strangest thing with him, he’s liked as a know, he’s liked as an opinion and at the same time really just a working poor. Somehow was he really known all around the globe, just cause he thrown some clues into the subconsciousness of the press. It made some kind of named hero out of him, who wasn’t liked everywhere . . .

Another article was about Mexico City. He just overflew it. It was about the Indios and the conqueror and the time that passed in between. Interesting somehow. It was even about what they do nowadays in the cities, far away from the rainforests.

The Swiss part he just overflew. He didn’t read it fully today. Why does someone buy a smart newspaper anyway? What do you mean? It’s about the common space that it creates and about sharing knowledge. Some stuff is interesting, some stuff not. Information that are worth money for the buyer is almost zero, isn’t it? But the flair of his apartment did change a bit. It’s somehow a macrocosmos with the center the newspaper. Some pressure leaves, some view line see and the sun is shining again let’s say. That’s more or less the reason why he likes to read a smart newspaper, like the one that’s titled with Neue Zürcher Zeitung, the city where he lives.

Because he entered that paper space where some folks appear. Awytok is known as a know, and a lot of people remember him from past things. Some viewpoint exchanges happened. And the art that hangs all over the place can be seen with watching in. Humanity is pretty far in the case enlightenment, are we?

Some players are even around now. When Mr. Awytok sometimes has a meta clue, he throws this into subconsciousness of newspapers’ world. There were stuff about future theories and tendencies. Sometimes even technology knowledge. He was a known trader and functioned pretty well like that. He liked to step back a bit and watch things from a wide range or, as mentioned, from a meta position. And he understands players and their mention system across room time. And he even has some future contacts himself. Some are pretty stable; some vanished.

Marcus Bearer—Afternoon

He went out after sitting already, added through the day, for about six hours in front of the computer. He took the street down and went in another store that sold beer and got a big white beer. With that in his backpack, he walked further to the waterside of the Zürich lake. People who do this, weren’t that seldom among the waterside of the Zürich lake and they weren’t necessary alcoholics.

It was sunny warm and nice in the middle of the spring 2010. He sat close to the water, enjoyed a beer, and watched the ducks and swans that were there. He liked it more or less lonely, it was even somehow a safety thing. He had a couple of friend circles, but they were broke for a couple of years. He seldom sees them.

There just were other times that he went almost every weekend to parties, but his friends got older, and even baby alerts happened. The seriousness of life started for some of his friends like this. And the meetings got less.

He has a bunch of friends in virtuality, but he sorted them by sense and worth. People that were a break within his lifeline, he just left. He liked being productive, and gossip talks—he didn’t like them much. For what? He liked it when there was a meaning behind it, when it went deeper. Or when there was sense behind something. For he enjoys the body part of life. Did he had Yoshiba and seldom he ordered an escort service. This was all he needed. He could have a girlfriend without having big expenses, but he just didn’t find the right female until now. When he would have a girlfriend, then she’s the one that he will keep for the rest of his life. And she has to be someone special. He just didn’t want to look for. It wasn’t the right time in his life. And time will see. And idea with this could be, a really big hack and to vanish to a warm place.

Sometimes he thought that even she was a programming nerd like he was, with that comparement, happens a lot of zeros after the comma of the percentage calculation for the amount of possible females. He just couldn’t imagine what kind of female would fit him. And he didn’t want to test it. Lest he could end in a story like this: Need some more money for cocaine and clothes, darling! I’ll be back in four hours, just don’t stop loving your computer. Bye. And then he lets her, because the females’ mind-washing unit, so-called vagina, with its sweet smell, happened to him.