Condensed Matters – Field Notes #21, VII
26 October 2025

Every day
For the past 21 days
I have thought to myself,
‘Perhaps today will be the day I write about The Silencers.’
…Perhaps today will be the day I write about The Silencers.
On 5 October 2023
My friend came to my home
& we talked, as friends do,
Of life, of love, of politics.
What a topic, isn’t it?
Politics.
& I laid into it,
Full force,
A critique of the administration at the time.
Not too difficult, is it, to find fault there?
& then we video chatted,
With an individual from Milan and his friend.
A quick chat. Nothing special.
Is the timing of this all just Apophenia?
My friend leaves,
As friends tend to do when the bedtime hours are approaching.
& those hours were upon me
& I set myself upon the slab, as one does.
…Variables.
My entire conversation was had within proximity of my cellular device.
Does that matter?
I was lying in bed, as one does,
Under a multi-bulb floor lamp equipped with a set of RF-capable remote control colour changing bulbs…
Does that matter?
I was lying there;
And then I was aggressive.
The silent frequencies,
Direct to the body,
Receiving,
“You are not going to talk about the government like that ever again”
& other equally extreme hostilities.
The receivings, I can easily deal with.
I have been trained for that, you know;
The ways of the psychological warrior
This…
This was not just of the mind.
As these receivings transpired,
Very suddenly, extremely quickly,
A thing activated within the throat that rendered speech painful in the moment
& impossible above the quietest whisper for over a week following the incident.
If we do not like what you have to say,
We will take away your ability to say anything at all.
& I was meant to video chat, with A Man, later that week –
Which ended up postponed until December.
For all the good that did.
Once that chat finally took place,
For a lengthy duration of time during the conversation,
I experienced a horrifically disturbing sensation that I can only explain as a frequency applied to the female reproductive organs and bladder.
Both of these events left their marks on me, psychological and physical both.
The lump in my throat where I was silenced comes and goes-
As do the skin breakouts on that spot,
Bringing with them the hurricane in the mind,
Thoughts of electrogenetic engineering,
Bioengineered bacteria
Genetic expression done completely remotely via frequency.
I fucking hate writing about this.
Words minimize the horror, somehow,
While maximizing the realization that this did take place, is absolutely not normal,
And time does not heal, only place distance between ourselves and event.
…It’s been quiet, recently.
Why did you stop?
Hell is an untold story.
Right now, this is all just on paper, in my personal notes.
How different will it be
When (if) I decide to include this in the Condensed Matters?
…I say ‘if’.
What am I, scared?
To tell my own story?
When I say ‘We are the products of our programming and experiences’,
These events are the programming and experiences I refer to. •
“Proton therapy? Then, what do electrons do?”
I am brought back, by this receiving,
To a day at The Matrix
That Black Programs Facility
Disguised as an automotive quality control and manufacturing facility.
Electrons practically took me out that day.
It was Ultraviolence that cured the headache I was left with,
The receiving, “You need to ask yourself WHY you have a headache in the first place.”
Memories.
Some memories are very much the opposite of good;
But somehow, I can look back on them fondly.
“-Understand it from the inside.”
To go into The Machine.
Where does one draw (& I had started to  write ‘join’, there, not ‘draw’, unconsciously) the line (& it really does feel to be, a joining of two lines, rather than a drawing of one so as to divide into halves) between natural and artificial?
Things created by nature are part of nature;
It is all nature.
‘Of a different nature’,
Still nature.
“How would you describe this particular expansion?”
“You probably should not have forgotten Everything when Aetos was reformed.”
It is 17:17;
& I am, rather intrusively, interrupted by a receiving of the Star Wars theme song as I get up to fold laundry.
Weird addition to Sunday Brain Soup.
“You enjoy certain frequencies for their scientific value.”
17:24 A visitation, Icky Thump, White Stripes
“The Recognition Test… means a thousand different things. It is a way of taking a quantum measurement on a nearly immeasurable entity.”
“All of these things are quantum measurements.”
17:36 A visitation, Dark Waves
17:39 A visitation, The Sound of Silence
17:45 A visitation, Hot Summer Night’s
17:58 A visitation, I’m Overflow •
It is 18:22.
I ponder.
Things that still exist,
Information, that still exists,
But is irretrievable.
A shattered record, perhaps,
A corrupted hard drive.
I do not even know
Why I want to know
When does information cease to exist?
When the format it is stored upon becomes unreadable?
I do not necessarily know
How to accurately convey
What I mean right now.
What is the opposite of ‘information’?
‘Brain rot’, probably.
There has been a study done,
LLMs can get brain rot,
Which is something I feel like we all KNEW prior
And now have solid evidence to back it up. •
19:04 “You were the Ultimate Reference Point… until Something came along twice the size, and taught us To Be Cruel.”
19:17 “That’s what you want, isn’t it? A love letter from the fucking Watchers.”