With love. A moment please.

[HuggieSunrise]

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Your terminal or viewing system opens up with the image of an eye on a black background it sheds a tear of red that gradually turns brown from its core and the motion of an invisable thumb spreads it down and to the right.

A man in a dark room, the light comes up and shows he is probably in his thirty's, missing an eye, and wearing a common brown flight jacket.

Recorded log: CCM-80902


A man with a cybernetic patch over his right eye sat on a G-couch not looking at the lens of the media recorder.

Behind him are tapestry from the Gran Canaria markets.

The random and improvised threads is part of an ongoing practiced art form born in the centennials just before free ports and later free ports not having enough material for the usual canvas and painting.

Baskets with books and disc's piled in a corner and in cubbyholes. The light is low and the man takes off the eyepiece of his implant and sets it on the coffee table in front of him.

Where do I start? he coughed and cleared his throat his voice had cracked either due to flem or the memory of the subject.

I don't intend this to be a manifesto, I don't expect pity or a million contacts on MyFace or SpaceBook. I'm talking about my experience from a survivors perspective. While speaking he took out a small piece of shrapnel art that looks like a pendant.

He held it up for the lens and let the readout show the pendant had a simple graphic with a teardrop in front of it in a dull brown color. The high temperature alloy and composite material on this particular scrap come from a hull mix common in zoner spacecraft.

My old ship, my memento, and it survived like I survived. he took a breath It was embedded in a piece of iridium a friend of mine by serendipity found it, and I did the carving. It symbolizes what each slave is... Shuffling his position to be more forward he put it on a cord and put the pendant around his neck under his jacket.

A listing of slave recovery cases flood the infonet readout on the right of the video. Statistics read from all the house systems to even some hard to obtain statistics from IMG and the Colonial Remnant, Java stations data marks plainly visable.

Everywhere everyday sovereign individuals choose to enslave their fellow man, from the taking children out of their beds in the slums of leeds to the corporate employees blessed enough to have an INCH of freedom in the void by hauling the universes lifeblood to and fro. A smile crawled across his face as he began on the rest of this rant.

And we don't even see it... this stupid game... and like some sort of demonic juggernaut it has reached out and plucked the rest of us even in the most remote parts of inhabited space.

The smile went to a frown he had a look of thought.

Doesn't matter that credit is the mechanisim for this game... why have non house society's and cultures used credits like the rest of sirius? Ease of use? Doesent anyone think anymore that.. hey.. everyone needs these numbers attached to some fake banking entry in order to eat, purchase, and sell? You need credit to live in the house systems OH WELL now of course you need it in Omega and Tau.! He laughed.

"There is but one true law... and with credit, with commerce, life becomes regulated to mere policy of commerce... house space has judges and magistrates that take everything you let them know you have... the price for playing with money.. the price of playing the game. Oh ignorant masses you are sovereign."

He holds a finger out pointing to the lens.

You think a Nomad gets paid? You think an alien race uses money except as a tool or weakness against us?

There is only natural law... The golden rule... do onto others... as you wish to be delt.

We deprive others of freedom.
We deprive them of property.
We injure.

Sound like someplace you know?"

He grinned his teeth showing as it was an open smile.

"Natural laws cannot be broken and thus we have created this... universe... Dear sovereigns."

He shook his head head rubbed his nose with the back of his hand ,inhaled and looked back to the camera.

My crew and I weren't supposed to live. A patrol we've done fro six years like clockwork and two of those years in the newer gunboats, hell I thought for sure with so many kills and successful tours wed be able to conscript and build a destroyer... He shook his head no.

"Physics or philosophy?" he looked up in to the light above him

The order carrier blew past... on fire and broadcasting screams... all kinds of hell, didn't answer comms but just wailed by with every shape and size of those damned things chasing it. Whatever they did it was as great a sin to sweep us aside. I don't even think they fired a single shot at us.. there were so many our guns couldn't even cut through.

I dont blame the Order, I blame them as much as a kid poking and old dog eventually you'll tap Fidos doodaads and this sweet family pet will snap at you.

He had been holding a 4 a day cigarette/clove in his hands tumbling and fiddling with it as he talked he took the time to lite it on a hotplate and took a drag from it.

To quit is my goal... mimicking the jingle...

He had begun to sweat. His forehead glistened with perspiration. He promptly wiped his forehead and face with a white rag

He threw a pineal amulet on the coffee table from his forward coat pocket.

Thank the goddess for clarity, it enabled me to learn how to stop worrying and love the truth of the meaninglessness of the universe. Smoking and puffing.

Long and short of it... the jellies rammed my ship into pieces, I remember the pressure dropping in the cabin and I grabbed two handfuls of the nearest crewman or woman and made it to a pod. We drifted for what felt like three days headed for the largest star in Omicron Delta.

We got picked up by an unidentified ship... pods don't have scanners and I never saw it myself, just the shadow. I expected to be let out to make a transmission to FP11 short and sweet and tell the captain of the ship "thank you and heres your reward for picking us up." I smelled ozone for a brief moment and realized we were all about to get stunlanced... I didn't even get a syllable out before the volts hit me.

They must have cooked us too long when I came to my right eye didn't work so well and felt like they replaced it with a bowling ball. he pointed to the patch.

Junkers can be damned good doctors when they have to be, but they weren't accountable. he sniffed.

Yup.. cooked us too long...kid clenched so hard he bit his tongue off.. he took a shaky drag off his cig.

Didn't just bite it.. bit it .. off. Bled to death while unconscious... I hope.. and her hair was burnt off, scars and tears all over with patches of melted clothing... the diode must have been right above her for an arc to get her that bad.

A 3d representation of a simple tube appendage with a high voltage arc touching the wall of an insulated escape pod, the two sharp prongs penetrate the seals just enough to put a shock hard enough to induce seizing and muscular fatigue so great that even a prized stallion would lose its bowels and feel like a puddle of jelly after the volts... but not enough to hurt you for good... well... intendedly.

When the ideal simulation was over it showed a grotesque sequence of the speakers body being shocked so badly his right eye popped, the other male present bit his tounge and the person closest to the arc doesent sieze but burns.

The simulation IS just a idea..... but im sure any sadistic college kids out there could put three pigs in a tin box and get the same data. the graphic went away and the video was close up on his face.

Im sure they fixed her up and sold her off after they wiped her.

You know before VR and senso-vision they had to terrorize and rape you in person in order to crack your mind?...

Now with the right doses of muscle relaxers and hallucinogens they can do two months of brainwashing in a day.

Manufacturing at its best...

I don't know how long I was hooked up to the machine but it was hell. If you had a thought anything, felt anything, you'd feel a pressure and a hum that would push your nerves all the way from the highest pleasures through the worst pain.... it numbed you... so much.. that seemed to push you to the verge of well you didn't die... Call it un-death.

Even dreams where blanked.. it wasn't peace it was a terror... of nothing you could imagine. I don't suggest those of you who will try can do it. Torture isnt.. the right word.

A chap at Cambridge believed that my memories where false that I had been taken by nomads and tortured, but... no. Animals don't torture a man, they'll kill him, or in their case assume control, but im not important I would have died. If that was the case.. he held his head in his hands for a bit and the video jumps suggesting some editing was done.

A man.. did this. A Slaver. The lowest rung of this black economy that everyone participates in while a mere protein in a cell, a mere atom of an element in the scheme of things one of US did this.... and IS doing this to us. Its physics.

He started to clean his eye piece.

I dont suffer and if this was a guru speaking infront of a mass I would be screaming at the top of my lungs to get the hell away from the preacher and this pulpit.. So that is my warning.. If you want to ignore this ignore it now.. stop watching stop reading stop looking at the data and be a good little cell. Be a good little atom. He finished his cigarette and brushed the connections on his eye lens and patch and used a small dropper bottle to apply something to it before it made a odd crack and click noise when it reset on his face.

He had a red rag handy when the brown liquid leaked for a moment from the implant down his face, wiping and cleaning the tiny mess.

Oh you can address me as Crying man if you want to post a comment or send a private message.

Melodramatic.. yeah I know..

The brown teardrop stained the rag and he put it in his left coat pocket.

So what is this about crying man? Why post this gruesome sob story on the neural net boards?

Well to let you know that they call the process done to me as nerve stapling, it confuses the neural system till it can only express warm or cold. Wipes it clean so that pain can be pleasure pleasure can be pain... freedom is slavery etc.

Not a lot of pain or pleasure out of the body anymore its.. I guess a slavers version of gelding or making a unic. Only thing that grants me a .. small.. bit of .. what you'd call satisfaction is... filling a ship full of plasma and watching it light up.

Nothing else fulfills my purpose.

I chase love we all crave it. and now... acts...

Did you know if your tortured in the line of service you cant get promoted or re enlist?.. funfact.

Gun camera footage of a Cerberus turret. Class 8 firing on what looks like a mule carrying slaves.

The mule blew and the escape pod was left alone however the cargo container of slaves is hit with two turret launched missiles.

People and all their parts.. flash freezing and disappearing from sight into the void...the blackness swallowing them up.

Im sure I lost a lot of sympathy there. he said cooly.

He nodded and smirked.

Not saying its right.. not saying its wrong either.. I'm mostly dead... And so where they... Who killed them? Did I finish the job? Am I merciful?

He played the gun camera video on a loop in full screen and the audio was now a voice over.

This was the first time, it wasn't the last. Slavers took a lot from me but left my unlife. Was this a divine thing? A malfunction in the plan that left my thinking mind and inspiration intact?

Any slavers care to speak up? Any of you slave transporters reconsidering your life? Stop? To get a job, get married. Raise a family?

There's no escape you need money means you need to be enslaved. The only rights we have left are to contract... or not. There is nothing left, sovereigns of sirius. You are the universe, you have elected ignorance and cancer.

I will dispose of the soulless. I serve them. I know when I meditate and pray that I am loved by them.

Sweet Isis, great Ishtar, lovely Venus, loving mother fire, and father void.

The screen went back to the Crying man sitting back on his couch. He was smoking another cigarette.

Im going to be updating this via proxy and bot. Im pretty sure it will take weeks for each post but Im open to discussion and discourse, it helps me relearn or remember what things were like.

The feed cuts off with simple text.

With love,
Crying Man.

The encoding and info links are all public and on a wide array of corporate and independent sites, some of these sites ban the topic or delete it all together but on the exstranet where there just passive data being held for the customary 15 minutes of fame theres a multitude of replys to this post and the topic just doesn't seem to go away... Eventually though it will float to the bottom of the pile and the latest nude slip, laughing baby, guy hit in crotch with football, viral clip storm overtakes it ...