Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 557
"They wanted to make me a receiver," he said, voice steady, eyes manic. "But I jammed their signal."
His story seemed dated; a mix of early conspiracy theory from the chupacabra days, alien abductions, MKUltra, fifties pod people, and a nut hollering in the street. Overall, it unfolded like conspiracy fan fiction of past times;
A black van.
A private research facility nestled beneath the foothills.
Unmarked sedatives and machines that hummed in fractal frequencies.
"They were tuning minds," Wendell said. "Picking low noise brains to transmit behavioral nudges to the population. I was just one node. One of hundreds."
The officers exchanged the kind of glance people save for relatives who start speaking in tongues at Thanksgiving dinner; then one asked; “We’re in a cheap movie, right?”
Wendell told his story like a man narrating a lucid dream; a black van, men in suits with no insignia, a lab carved into the underside of Mount Rainier, the humming of machines tuned to frequencies no one else could hear. "They said I was ideal. High