Behavioural Reinforcement.

I was programmed in 1990.
I was programmed to fail, by the method of traumatic induction.
Traumatic induction as practised by my torturers is the replacement of random, non-communicative, non-influential and random occurrences with what they hope will be subliminally inducted communications.
So, for example, every time you go into a certain pub in an area under their influence, there will be a tape(a jukebox requires an observer-operator, and all pubs have a 'secret' preference control-I've seen them) playing a particular song, usually a mournful, threatening song such as 'Road To Hell' by Chris Rea, or a strident nag like 'You're So Vain'.What will be striking is the sheer consistency of the occurrence of the message.
Five visits, five repeats, and even the thickest-skinned will begin to get the message.

Of course, the people in charge of psychologically traumatising me were like a Spetznaz simulation of 'Western Rockers', somewhat unconvincing and crook.

The trauma part comes from the application of physical violence.
In my case random brawling was replaced by a targetted attack. Obviously these life-forms think of themselves as apart from general criminality, so they try to provoke.
Their desperation resulted in an actual challenge after I evaded their traps for three months.
The last time I fought was against their hit man.
I lost the fight but hit the hitter.
And last year in the North Of England they tried again.
The technique is always the same.
They don't necessarily resort to violence but they do try to induce fear and intimidation which they then exploit by rather sophisticated means.
My problem ws that my experiments in resistance training had left me slightly 'heads-up' regarding the locals, so I was noticed.

For sure there are people these creeps leave decidedly alone, people with connections and resources.
Of which I now have some. In theory at least.
But I also have plans for a life, so I am loath to take the risk of committing to sending the bastards a message they can't miss.
I suppose unless I actually cut number 1's throat I'd just be even more heads up.

These people were the prototype for the Village in 'The Prisoner', which like any good fable has a basis in fact.

I think that these funny little people are known all over the world by various other groupings and organisations, and are terrified that I represent another hostile organisation.
Or maybe they are just sadistic bastards for the sake of it.

I think that they are the Meta-Communists I was talking about earlier.
I think that it is quite possible they pre-date Marx.
I think that their 'science' is a living document or may even have been written down.
It's possible that they are tolerated in the West because they appeared to help in the fight against the Soviet variety.

But I know their stink.
The actual goal of their machinations is the mental collapse of their victim; even if only in the sense that the victim withdraws and leaves their path to power and potential dominance clear.
They are quite happy with the potential for the time being. It's like a promise of a breath of air for their fetid insect minds.
I pride myself that I obliged them to commit thought, effort and resources to my victimisation, and gave them cause for worry too.
But in the end experience tells, and mine was the mind that began to trick itself into disaster after freedom was reached; partly because they sowed my path with poisonous lies to prepare the way.
The fact is, they raped a girl I knew. Maybe she staged it. I didn't think so at the time. But they raped her in such a way that I would know. This was supposed to colapse my mind, because the knowledge was subliminal.
But I figured it out and went looking for them.
That was when I fought.
And the purpose of the fight was to make me 'give up'. That was what they wanted me to admit.
That I would 'give up'.
I didn't.

The reason I am non-violent today is that violence is playing their game, unless you do it so as to end the bloody game.

Sweet dreams.
Be seeing you!