Sunday, December 2, 2012

9/19/12 - A Monument to the Ruined Age - Pt. 2

And we're back, but really no !@#$ better.

I wound up taking a walk around the city, thinking that being around ordinary people would clear my !@#$ing head. But that was a big !@#$ mistake. Everyplace I went I saw signs of what the Imago have !@#$ing done to China, and the world.

And that just made me !@#$ing angrier.

I wanted to tear down all those !@#$ing posters on the walls, all gently demanding obedience and sacrifice. I wanted to kick in and !@#$ on all the video screens everywhere, playing endless propaganda loops and watching for "crimes against the people." I wanted to scream the truth at the top of my !@#$ lungs, especially now that I know a !@#$ of a lot more about that truth than I did before, or ever !@#$ing wanted to.

And then, just when I didn't think I could get any !@#$ angrier (at least not without !@#$ing exploding like a Halloween pumpkin) I actually saw one of the !@#$ers.

He was Silver and Blue, floating twenty !@#$ing feet above a busy intersection, slowly rotating like something on top of a department store Christmas display. The people who passed by him all nodded and half-bowed and moved past, like they'd run into a high party member or something. And he was looking down at the people, and smiling like an arrogant politician on a palm-presser, all smug and secure and knowing that he !@#$ing owned the !@#$ floor. 

That wasn't the worst bit, though.

The worst thing was that the corners of the intersection were piled high with !@#$ing offerings to the bastard. Fruit and flowers were heaped up in rotting piles no one dared to clean up or remove, and makeshift shrines had been made by them, with incense sticks lit from oil lamps.

And people were actually !@#$ing praying to the thing, like he was the shrine in a temple.

I stood there, wondering how high and hard I'd have to jump to grab his head and twist it the !@#$ off, and then someone half-punched me in the !@#$ing ribs and told me to bow and show respect. So I did, and kept moving, hoping the Silver and Blue thing didn't notice me, and just kept keeping the !@#$ on.

This is the answer, son. When you ask me how I can go on with this war, knowing that they could teleport into !@#$ing Southern Thailand and exterminate the whole !@#$ing population because they thought someone who'd hurt them had come from there, it's things like this.

The fact that humanity has meekly !@#$ing accepted these metal-plated monsters as their saviors, not knowing what they're actually capable of.

(Well, that and we're about to get !@#$ed by some weird-!@#$, big lethal Doom from beyond the stars, but that's another story for another time.)

So we're back to continue the big !@#$ true story of GORGON, son. But this time we are !@#$ing playing it smart. I am not even touching that baijiu !@#$, this time. Instead, I have elected to drink all the local beer I can, which means I made the grocers just outside this adorable guest house really !@#$ glad for the night.

And, two cases into my stash of Beijing Gold, I am finding that my brainmeat is less !@#$ed up, and I am better able to process and express the true horror that my highly-flammable fishing expedition uncovered. 

So, Dark Star, who's outed herself as a !@#$ing alien to General Shiro "Partyman" Iishi, is hanging around Unit 731 to see what makes us !@#$ pathetic humans tick, tock, and stop moving. This is all being done to supposedly help her help the Japanese make submarines capable to getting down to where her crashed spaceship is, so she show her gratitude to them (for rescuing her from a freaky gangster-run whorehouse) by loading them up with insane levels of technology.

That's what she !@#$ing says, anyway. But after hanging out with this girl with black, empty eyes for a while, and watching her suck the memories out of captives, and picking up on little things she says, and the things she doesn't say, Shiro gets the idea that she isn't being 100% honest with him. Of course, his job is to !@#$ing obey, so he doesn't make too big of a stink about it, but he confides his worries in his companion in trolling whorehouses (that happens to be her !@#$ing handler) and his buddy agrees to look into things for him. Somehow.

1941 comes and goes, and you know what !@#$ing happens then, son. The day that lives in infamy, and the end of our being able to sit on our !@#$ hands and support freedom in Europe with our money but not our blood. Things at Unit 731 reach a renewed pitch, now that they went and !@#$ed with the wrong hornet's nest, and the Imperial Army wants Shiro to give them more results, and faster.

Especially when it comes to that !@#$ submarine man thing, because if there was ever a time to get space guns and rocket ships from that spooky girl they "rescued" from the freakiest little whorehouse in Tairausuiso, now is !@#$ing it.

Dark Star isn't necessary to the program, seeing as how she's just observing and advising. So she isn't there as much, given that the Imperials are shuffling her around Asia and the Pacific to have her help make sure that places the Japanese have taken over stay taken over.

I've talked about the sick !@#$ she did, before, so we don't really have to get into that, again. Except that now she's got better ideas about how to hurt people, given how well she learned from watching us. 


That's what always !@#$ing gets me, you know? All these aliens and their weird tendencies to turn us into hamburger meat, or open us up and make us tick? So much of that isn't something they came up with on their own.

I mean, if you've got the power to fly across the !@#$ universe in realtime, then why do you have to get your tentacles bloody to see how we work? !@#$, most of them have medical scanners so precise they can see your !@#$ing DNA dancing around in your pancreas from ten !@#$ miles away. Our most sophisticated means of imaging the insides of the human body are !@#$ing antiques to them.

So all that !@#$ with them landing, collecting us like butterflies, and taking us to pieces like we're pigs in a butcher's shop? That's all !@#$ they learned from us, son. Either that or they're trying to scare us, because they're invaders and body horror is always a good way to strike fear.

(Or they're !@#$ing Spider People, but let's not talk about them today. I don't need another headache...)


Anyway. Dark Star. She's playing "I want your memories" with eligible bachelors on far-flung islands throughout the South Pacific with Thunder and Lightning, and Shiro Iishi is trying to develop ceramic bombs to spread the !@#$ing black plague. Then, one day, in 1943, Dark Star comes back with a wicked !@#$ing gleam in her eyes, and has a new idea.

It's not merely enough for us to be physically modified to withstand great oceanic pressures, she tells Shiro. We also have to be mentally modified. Our minds must be fused with discipline, determination, and will, or else we'll get down there, see a !@#$ing whale skeleton, and !@#$ ourselves to death.

Of course, Shiro Iishi's all about discipline (when he isn't out drinking and whoring) so he approves of this. And he lets her set up a new regime of testing within the pingfang compound. He gives her some guards, lets her have first crack at his supply of "logs" (that's victims, son), and asks her to have some promising results by, say, the end of a month.

And at the end of that month is where his diary stops being a clinical but !@#$ing disgusting read, and really goes over Niagara Falls in a barrel full of !@#$ and monkeys.

You see, the Japanese have this weird thing about self-harm as sign of devotion. Samurai would !@#$ing stab themselves in the guts to redeem themselves if they'd failed big time. Their gangsters still slice off their fingers, one knuckle at a time, if they screw up. And people are always throwing themselves in front of subway trains if they think they've screwed up, enough, just to say "sorry."

Well, it's not like she was experimenting on Japanese people, but you have to remember that her understanding of our culture was pretty !@#$ limited. What she got in the whorehouse, and was told when they inducted her, and what she saw at Unit 731, and out in the field? That's all Dark Star !@#$ing knew about us, at the time.

And it's not like the Imperial Army went out of their way to tell her otherwise. Not when she's doing such good and creative work, and has promised them the !@#$ing stars if they can get her back down to where she !@#$ing came from.

So she gets a group of healthy male prisoners together, and sequesters them from the rest of the population. She gets them to see her as their protector, and then she tells them things, together. And she tells them these things night and day, over and over again, until they believe them heart and soul.

And then, once she's convinced they really do believe it, totally and completely, she challenges them to prove it. She tells them to show her they have changed. Show her they have become something entirely new.

Show her they reject the life they had before, and with it the one thing that truly identified them from that life.

She gives them a small amount of powerful painkillers, a mirror, and a knife.

Not all of them live through the !@#$ing thing, as you might expect. But by the time the first experiment is done, she has two men who are so !@#$ing loyal that, once Shiro Iishi tells her to take it one step further, they gladly slit their own throats at her command.

He !@#$ing loves it. So they do it again, and again, each time changing things a little. And while they find that their prisoners respond to threats, and appeals to loyalty, the best results they get are by finding broken people and making them feel loved.

And that's how the first False Faces were made, son. Chinese prisoners of war who listened to an alien who told them that she loved them, and wanted them to change themselves for her.

There's still more, here, son. This diary goes !@#$ing bat!@#$, shortly thereafter, and you'll just love what happens when Shiro's party friend gets back to him.

But before we get to that, you are having a !@#$ing drink. Trust me, you're going to need it.

Down the hatch, son.

(SPYGOD is listening to Cold (The Cure, remixed by Denny JT) and having a !@#$-ton of Beijing Gold)

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