Mini-fiction by John Iwaniec aka taxigringo

Wednesday, February 05, 2014

A schizophrenic journey in San Antonio

THE JOURNEY OF A PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENIC IN THE CITY OF SAN ANTONIO.
About this time of year in 1999 I became psychotic in conjunction with a threat and much stress.  It was a long process to get my mental balance back and part of that process was to write an account of the experience in the form of a fictional adventure.  Now that I've regained my confidence I can tell you that it was almost all true and in fact some of the more fantastic experiences have not been written.  The reader should be able to see a dual perspective: one from a normal explanation of events and the other from the mind of a person with paranoid schizophrenia caught up in a hallucinagenic and delusional psychosis.  Even though I did not begin to post these events on the Yahoo message board under Social Sciences>Fantasy in San Antonio until three years later I've decided to leave the writing and gramatical flaws in place to keep the original emotional effect.

12/20/03  They say San Antonio is such a clean city, so charming? I'll tell you the real story of this city. To begin with it's a psychotronic concentration camp: a place where the controllers use electronic media and visual media to control the people.  Only a few of us have broken free from this hypnotic influence, and almost without exception, we live on the street by our wits.  This is the story of a man who resisted the psychotronic control.
12/20/03  As I walk through the city the sounds bring to mind a jungle.  Instead of monkeys, birds and insects it is the voices of tires squeeling, horns honking, and overhead music in almost every store.  The sounds have a rhythm, and dare I say, a  composition.  I've been listenening and observerving.  I've learned to anticipate what comes next.  Some might call it instinct, but no, the music of the street has become as familiar as a song.  I watch people unconciously respond to the music.  They unknowingly change direction on cue like they were a flock of birds.
12/20/03  I've been wandering about the city on foot like a detective gathering clues.  I don't have any money, but my hunches led me into Chacho's, a Mexican restaurant.  On the wall are paintings of people on the Riverwalk having a festive time.  The only thing is--the people have no flesh.  They are all skeletons in clothes.  I leave and notice that  people I pass do not seem to see me.
I wonder if they are human.  Everything is so predictable and automatic.  I get bold and approach these maniquin-like people and do outrageous things, and they smile.  They have not been programed for such a situation.  Then I really get close and notice they have no smell.
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12/21/03  Clues and evidence continues to build.  The Yucca plant growing wild next to USAA is just too perfect. I pull on one of the sheaves.  It doesn't tear loose. Using all of my strength I rip it from the plant. I don't want to believe it; it is of an aritificial material with numerous small wires imbedded.  I keep examining it yet it is no illusion.

12/29/03  A theory begins to form in my mind. Whatever entity is conducting this pychotronic dance, part of the agenda is to isolate every individual who still has independant thoughts. At the Exxon station there are fine crystals floating on the surface of the coffee. The overhead music torments me as I study the employees. They appear to be human but behave as androids: unresposive to any personal social signals. I get a sense that they are afraid to make contact with me under the scrutiny of the video cameras.  They are hoping that I succeed; I just know it, but they will not expose their awareness.  Some of them are completely given over to the hypnotic control of the music and chemicals while others cling with quiet desperation to what is left of their identity. Allowing for the possibility that I may be having an optical illusion I go to my apartment to devise a conclusive test.
1/01/04 
 After boiling tap water in a clean coffee carafe the crystalline substance begins to surface. I continue to boil down the water and when all of the water is gone a slippery white powder remains. I would expect an alkaline residue, but this substance is of a nature I have never seen.  I know that the water is contaminated with a chemical hypnotic. What has been the been the effect on me? Stepping outside of my apartment on I notice that there is a cat watching me. Something is odd. The cat's movement is unnatural.  I go back to my apartment; the cat has followed me inside. It walks stiffly through the apartment and scans each room. It seems to be looking for something. Something isn't right; I pick up the cat by the fur between its shoulders. Being a kindly sort, I give the odd animal some support on its bottom with my other hand. As I look at the cat a sick feeling comes over me. The animal's eyes are cameras. I am on video! Almost catatonic from the discovery I finally place the cat in a closet. I don't want to believe things have come this far. Someone is remotely controling the cat which obviously has a brain implant with a receiver and transmitter.  A sickening anxiety infects me as I feel overwhelmed by the unknown sinister entity. 

At last I find my courage and retrieve the cat.  When there is nowhere left to retreat it is time to go on the offensive.  I look into the rectangelar eyes and speak to the hiden microphone that the controllers have surely included.  "My my, what interesting eyes you have, little kitty! I bet that someone would pay me $1000 for those eyes." I then place the cat back into the closet.  It is an Orwellian world I now live in.
01/03/04  An aquaintance comes and removes the cat. I've quit my place of work. Am hardly able to eat as heightened senses show that my groceries are unfit for consumption. I walk two miles to the H.E.B. on Wurzback and I-10 to buy water. Everywhere I go there are signs of an alterered state. No sir, I am not talking about an altered state of mind but an altered State. Overall there is the appearance of the US as I used to know it. Closer examination reveals that cameras are everywhere. I do not want to cross the street against the crosswalk light.  They will arrest me.  They know that I know. After pushing the walk button and waiting the WALK light refuses to accomodate me.  They are watching me and I can feel their delight at my dilemma.  I will go down fighting. After counting to 60 I boldly cross the red light.  They are the ones who are the lawbreakers.  They are the ones who have broken all the constitutional covenants.  They are the violators.  I will not roll over for them.  If I accomplish nothing else I will make them show their hand. 
It occurrs to me that the policemen are in the same predicament as I and even worse as they find themselves doing the unknown controller's dirty work. 
In the store I picked up Hill Country distilled water and a wilted carrot that did not have the death smell of the better looking produce in pristine condition. Smells, I find so few natural smells. With the passing of time I would come to sniff objects like a dog. 
Day by day my senses heightened.  I would come to see objects in brilliant hues of color and smell became my prime sense of discerning real people from the androids. In the light of the monstrous changes all my emotions are blunted and have gone beyond a concern of life and death. With increasing intensity I have a mission.
(edidted to here on 1/4/09)
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01/03/04  Billboards are a bit different in San Antonio than other Texas cities and towns. Walk around and notice them a bit more closely. In particular are those with a red, blue and yellow format. Let your mental focus relax and you might wonder if the Car Nation board has a dual message. With that thought you might start to notice the peculiar traffic patterns. Light traffic when it should be rush hour, localized heavy traffic without reason. So many late model cars in a city of low income service employees. Look at the advertisements at the churches offering car washes with bug removal. Could it be that someone suspects that their car has geopositioning sensors implanted. Could it be that such a devise is wired to another that can stall the vehicle? Just try to leave the city of San Antonio and believe that fender bender, or that sudden traffic jam that caused your car to overheat is a coincidence. There is a group from a particular profession which I will not reveal that drive restored cars made before 1984. Ever notice how it is always someone in an older car that comes to your assistance. Oh Yeah!. World Pest control? Another cute billboard. Same color scheme. Wendy's rules the night. Same color scheme. So what you say. I'll tell you what. There are entities (corporate, international, governmental?) orchestrating business practices that have a purpose beyond business. In a city that is the third most popular tourist destination with 7 military bases, it is the medical center that is the prime source of the city's income. Go there and watch 100,000 black grackles that make Hitchcock's movie THE BIRDS seem tame. I once played with the sentiment that each of these birds represents the soul of a baby aborted on the sixth floor. I have come to find out a truly ominous reason for their unseemly presence.
01/04/04  I know that they know that I know. Going out from my apartment early this morning I'm struck by the fact that the whole ground before my apartment is littered with acorns. It is completely out of proportion with the few Oak trees nearby. The birds dropped them. Of course. They are small explosives dropped by real birds(?) directed by the controllers. At this point I have taken the position, what will be will be. I step on the acorns and nothing happens. I go back into my apartment on the second floor and begin to preach in a loud voice from the balcony. I preach about the cat, the billboards, music and beepers, etc. I conclude with: Honk your horn if you want me to preach. Immediatly I hear a horn honk. It must be understood that here in Texas many still understand the preacher to mean a gun. I pick up my Chinese wooden flute and proceed forth. Being the 14th day of October only one day remains to file my IRS tax return. The fifteenth is the deadline of my last extention. Walking down Huebner Rd. to Fredricksburg Rd. the traffic is out of all propotion. As I continue my six mile march to the IRS office on Callaghan just inside the 410 Loop honking horns add grim determination to my mission. I feel a little weak from lack of food and thirsty from insuficient water. The necessity of what I must do overrides my body's complaint.
(I may or may not continue with this post in the future.  Right now it is a bit much for me to retrieve the material.)

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