Having been placed in a deep, deep ongoing hypnotic trance, for the stated purpose of putting my head back together, the media people then began to inform me, once again, that this was all happening to me because I was gifted, that I was telepathic. And that if I so chose I could become a media analyst for NASA. At the time I would have taken any NASA nametag, even if it said janitor. But media analyst had a nice ring to it.
At the time I really didn't know what a media analyst was or anything, but I began to learn that they employ telepaths for that purpose because it really involves a lot of intuition. And that essentially I was to learn about a variety of things per whatever aptitude was revealed in me through a battery of tests that took place over the media itself. I suppose that I must have shown some promise, because I would eventually be clued into how to spot codes taking place in the media, body language, psychological warfare stuff, generally telling NASA whatever I could about news stories appearing on television, and since they had telepaths (I didn't know they had synthetic telepathy at that time, if indeed they did) I didn't really need to verbalize, but I did communicate in subtle body language gestures which were taught to me at first, and eventually just seemed to happen as if they were sometimes performed by my subconscious mind.
This prevented me from being committed by friends or family, only on occasion when I was alone did I verbalize about anything. In fact, verbalization was frowned upon sometimes, other times it was more or less welcomed. It was a sort of behavior modification routine in my estimation, because the media could suddenly turn very hostile, or very friendly, depending on whether or not they liked your attitude. At times they threatened to reveal private information, or let the gang stalkers have me back, and at times you would have thought that I had become some kind of king, feel good fare served on about the most expensive silver platter one could imagine. Bearing in mind that, well, all they had to do was to lace the media with little candies of information that made me feel good, it wasn't as if the media isn't always looking for content of some kind anyway.
During this time I was watching all of the news thatI possibly could on KABC Los Angeles. I felt as though I had gotten to know everyone on the news crews personally, and there did seem to be a really powerful connection between us, how or why I could only speculate. I often began my days at 5 AM with the morning news, ended the day watching the 11 PM news for the second time as it was replayed at 1 AM, and began the following day in the same manner. Hey, it was way interesting and I'm a hard worker. At this point not much remembering my private investigation, but earnestly trying for that brass ring of a NASA name tag. It was exiting. It was, up to that time, the most intellectually stimulating thing that I'd ever known. And I felt as though I was getting a real education. I even thought to myself, hey, you know, even if they attempt to deny our relationship for any reason there was still erudition. I could prove that I had learned.
Under the ongoing trance, and with all of the slight of hand media attention and so forth, and probably due also to the E-weaponry, the world had become a wonderful, magical place, I was living some kind of dream that I never even could have even imagined. Now, to be clear, there were moments of heated disagreement, but these were seldom met with threats, they were far more often sort of congratulated, at least by the media. I wasn't becoming a mere robot after all.
Part of the reason for that, as I mentioned earlier, was that I piggy backed my own self hypnotic commands on top of whatever they were attempting to do, with admittedly mixed results. While I didn't manage to avoid all of the peculiar thinking that they were inducing in my mind, I did stay in control of myself, and I did manage to make it so that I could eventually recall all of this.
That magical world would change drastically, however. After six months of "therapy" and training, NASA announced that our time together was finished, but they would check in every six months or so to see how things were going, make sure I wasn't still being gang stalked or receiving death threats or anything, but that if I wanted to I could transfer to the CIA and do analysis work for them and continue my career. Now at first I was devastated to be rejected by NASA this way, I mean, there went my golden name tag. I never cared much for the CIA. But then I began to recall that, well, after all, I was investigating MKULTRA for congress, and that meant entering in to the world's largest and scariest haunted house of spooks. "You can serve your country, you can help the world", the media said.
Now a smarter person probably would have turned and fled, but well, this is what I had come to do, and likely I could no longer survive in the world all by my lonesome and that it might actually be safer to continue on than be forgotten and end up with a dagger in my back for all of this anyway. So I agreed to be transferred to the analyst division of the CIA.
More later...
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