music
to go after the story: dead
weather live
for
further evidence see chemtrail
footage
The
subterranean traveller visited Neus Eddict on her roof terrace, where
they sat watching the early spring sky fill up with chemtrails. This
has been going on for three days now, Neus commented. Up in the sky
planes are passing by, ten, twenty, once even thirty an hour. I've
never before seen so many planes over Barcelona. Planes not destined
for El Prat, you know, the high flyers. Never before have I seen them
follow so many different routes. And all of them left this thick
trail, much thicker than what seemed usual, a trail which wouldn't
dissolve, which dispersed and thinned out like the rest of them but
which stayed up in the air. On Sunday it was just planes in a blue
sky leaving what would turn into a patch of fine lines, on Monday all
these criss-crossing lines started to form a cobweb curtain over our
heads and now on Tuesday it's filling up and weaving a blanket of
clouds. Tomorrow there'll be rain, like the forecast announced on
Saturday.
She
pointed a long finger skywards, in this city never too far up. It
looks real enough to you perhaps, but I'll tell you it is not. I've
seen it forming, I know it's manmade and I know it's full of metals
and chemicals.
Why
would one want to do such a thing, the traveller wondered
slightheartedly.
To
block the sun from boiling us, Neus Eddict came quickly. There's not
enough ice left on the poles and the mountain slopes to reflect the
sunlight. And with methane now being released at ten times last
year's quantities, temperatures are quickly rising above bearable
levels. I mean, it's only March and it feels like godam summer. So
they fill up the skies with metal particles which work as tiny
mirrors, and with chemicals which bind water molecules to
artificially enhance cloud formation.
You
seem to know an awful lot about it, the subterranean said in a tone
that could easily be held for admiringly.
Been
reading like a maniac, Eddict eagerly admitted. There's so much to
know, see? The less willing authorities are to clarify, the more
information you need to keep up with your fact. She set fire to the
joint she had been fixing and after a few deep drags burst out in an
ear-splitting cough. In the end they come down and settle in your
lungs, she told as soon as she was able to speak again, those metal
particles I mean. So I smoke a lot of dope to help me get it out of
my system.
Neus
handed over with a smile. The subterranean traveller, reasoning that
gonzo journalism requires for going along every turn your subject
takes, naturally inclined.
Neus
had been using the break in their conversation to glance over the
three screens she had at a ready, her mobile phone, a netbook and an
old pc, wrapped in plastic against the corrosive effects of nightly
dampness. Nothing new there, she mumbled in an accidental manner.
People think I'm crazy, you know. They say I'm a conspirationist.
That I falsely believe in conspiracies. But how can one falsely
believe if those conspiracies are true?
True,
according to whom? The traveller preserving the observer role.
The
conspirators themselves, of course. Rather, the individual
ex-conspirator turned whistleblower. People who have been part of
this grand scheme and those who have witnessed it and who couldn't
bear having to walk round with their secrets any longer. Many of them
have paid for their courage with their lives, others went into hiding
and haven't as yet been found. You can find the facts on the
internet, that is to say as long as people keep mirroring those
stories. Hot news is rapidly removed, these days.
So
it's all a grand conspiracy, the subterranean agreed, the weed
needing him to feel his thoughts tread in harmony with Neus's.
Don't
make fun of it, Neus Eddict warned. I guess I won't have to tell you
our beloved democracy has become a gross joke. Every four years we
vote in the next idiot and the morning after they happily continue
doing exactly what we don't want them to do. Then who run our
governments, you ask? The companies larger than a fair number of
countries, of course. The really big ones. And since they all have
become monopolists in their specific market segment, they have long
ago decided that collaboration and knowledge sharing would be that
more profitable.
They
are all in this together, is what you'd say.
You
bet I would, smiled Neus. They are interconnected, just as the
problems they create. Take a look at what's going on in Ukraine. They
organise a putsch so they can offer the country a loan and demand
highly profitable austerity in return and at the same time they blow
up tensions with Russia with the predictable outcome that the supply
of oil and gas to Europe dries up, so they will finally have the
incentive to make EU authorities stop their resistance against
fracking. It's all one big machine, the state working for the
corporations.
If
I'm correctly informed, that's called fascism, the subterranean
offered.
Neus
Eddict didn't immediately answer. Her eyes were running over the
screens again. The media are totally corrupt, she exclaimed. Is there
one newspaper or tv station stating the obvious fact that Russia is
merely defending its interests against US agression?
So
how would you know?
Because
the world is still slightly bigger than the fascist empire, dear.
There are still websites dedicated to telling the other side of each
story. Eddict again raised a hand heaven wards. Look at that sky,
mate! Does anybody think they are doing us a favour? How can they
imagine mass scale poisining will lead to anything good? She ran out
of breath but she didn't cough.
They
don't care, the subterranean traveller took quietly over, it's not
their problem. They sell solutions and care not for the effects, the
havoc wreaked. They've always been like that, it's just new
technology which makes them go that much further. And don't forget
the money, money of course being the greatest human invention ever,
so it is vital to collect as much as one can. Whatever happens to
human beings in this scenario I fear is of utter futility. Neus
Eddict was suppressing a smile. So now you say they've come to
poisoning us, deliberately I hear. Do they want us dead?
Neus
nodded shortly. I know we're on a dead end, she gave with fear
flashing her eyes, and it matters perhaps little how and when it will
happen, but I kind of prefer to be eaten by the methane rather than
getting poisoned by my own lot. To be insulted by these fascists, is
so degrading.
As
in the old song. That's right.
It
would only start raining on Thursday, one day later than forecasted.
Since then, a thick wet blanket has been hanging over town and
northerly winds have dropped temperatures back to January levels. Was
all this the working of those chemtrailing planes? For sure they
would have been busy elsewhere also, but were nevertheless people, a
select few people with lots of money and knowledge and influence,
capable of changing the weather at their will? As he covered his
throat and mouth with a scarf, the subterranean traveller suddenly
felt very small and insignificant. Neus Eddict was right. Much better
to die from methane overload.
