Intercept:1/2@svsn///_179

Hey daddio - safety valve is my middle name. Would I have gone into active sexual therapeutics if I didn't need to take on the problems of the world? And yes - your slang is horribly out of date. If you want to sound snap, you'll need to call me a "quick fix" or say I'm going back to touch work. And as you do know very well, it's noble work to actually touch people with desire. And, well ...I have gone back to it. It's the best work around here for someone who's trained well. You know I'm the best at it when my fuel cells are charged up, and boy am I charged! I'm making as much per week as a 14 year old and you know that's not easy for a no-lift 32 year old. It's the weirdest thing - puberty isn't hitting the girls up here until as old as 9! This land has been so protected for so long by the glacier that the seep water doesn't have any bioagents at all. Suprasnap for a middle worker. Wait until I hit 55, though - I'll be back to making clicks like you can't believe!

Greenland is lovely. I can't believe how fast the lichen and mosses turned over to willows and cottonwood here. The alder and Sitka spruce just below us is so well ensconced that it's got to be right behind. Watching a glacier retreat from your house is an amazing thing. And dad, no one would even think about calling Bio-Utopian Clones Brutes, here. You have to remember those people are genetically spliced together from the greatest minds in human history and then given the access of a MultiWeb brain-implant. Some people (including myself) believe they are the next step in human evaluation and we could all learn a thing or two from them. And I do believe it was you that tought me that Splice-Cloning was the next most obvious step in genome evolution as much as Tarious-style production cloning was a clear step backwards. "I think we have to believe this new breed of Sapiens can lead us into the future." You said that to me when I was 12 years old.

I'm glad you got a wall up - that's really exciting! Visiting in summer is definitely not an option. I've actually gotten used to being chilly! In this world!

Texas is the only place with shooters that actually have work to do. Most places put so many restrictions on shooting that they've gone to trapping their prey around here. Luckily I'm working at a good house that takes care of us...and I don't have to worry about squatter status, since I'm working!

Yeah, and notice how I don't ask about the work you're doing? See how circumspectly I tell you that there's only one other major religion that you could be downfalling? I'm dying of curiosity, so you might see me this winter after all!

Love by the meter,

Your Girl Lu

Incoming Transient:
'Art, please check out this PHog that I just received from my new employers. Do you believe this to apply to my most resent request?'
MH

?///?

Alert! this is not an interception

Below is transcription # 1/1.2 from the found text at the

TI-Ecotop/dig/site (incode***********************)

Dated rec:/1/15/2198///162/06:42

Submission by R.R. Smithers Bio-UT00235[1/16/2198///162/02:55]

START:

It's not just the hypocritical procreators that piss me off to no end.

"I'm going to tack after this ferry goes by, so come off the bowsprit for minute or two will you?"

This day was a perfect example of the Puget Sound in her muse. Giant puffy clouds that threatened nothing but scenery with the wind at a steady 10 to 15 knots barring the occasional gust kicking up to 20. Just enough wind
and waves to keep us both on our toes and a fresh taste of salt in our mouths. It's been this way since the orange sun rose on our three beautiful sails this morning. Day three on the maiden voyage of the Sailing Vessel...

"Dot, dot, dot? It can't be."

Yes it is, unless you agree that this ship would make the perfect Lysistrata. He says shuffling his way aftward.

"That doesn't feel right, ready to come about? You said that yourself the last time we had this conversation. Helms a-lee", she yells above the creaking strained sounds of her new (to her and him after a year of swindling, haggling, and compromising) 50 foot wooden sailboat swinging abaft of the giant Washington Ferry, the M.V. Tahoma. He/I haul the starboard sheet through the jib winch with a yank and the winch cries into place with only two full rotations of the winch handle to tweak the sail into shape. We hit the ferries stern wave just as we complete the tack with an incredible surge skyward and a sudden, sucking smack of saltwater under our 17,000 pounds of cast iron keel. Above the rumble of the ferry's engines we hear the crowd of humans on the observation deck of the ferry cheer as our beautiful sailboat heels into our new tack and lurches forward through the wake of the massive ship. The cacophony of
voices and photo flashes fade with the hiss of the brushing brine upon our planks.

Wow, you're a one-armed rock star!

"Let's not talk about my arm yet. Anyway, what else pisses you off about monkey besides the fact that the two big headed monkeys right here can't quite come up with a fitting name for this boat, this graceful, inspiring, great big beautiful boat? What the hell?" Dena grimaces as she slacks the main sheet a few inches with her right hand and motions with a jerk of her head for me to slack the jib sheet a touch as well. I do.

Ok, I'll let you tell the story of "Dena's Maiden Voyage-Broken Arm". But to answer your question, after adequately liberal Monkey pumps out their 2.5 puppies the flood of typical rationalizations come forth as if all the things they had said in their younger more passionate years and lives (as aforeranted) meant nothing at all. As if they somehow hoped they'd never said those things in the first place, or at least had no living witnesses.

"What do you mean by typical rationalizations, I mean besides quote marks for the first person what else could possibly be missing here?"

Oh shush grammar girl, you know things like "Meat is murder", "My other car is a Trek" "subvert the dominant paradigm" or "Kill your Television"! Remember those gems? But when the offspring start drooling
and spewing shit it's time to stuff the little monsters with sugar or whatever works, plop 'em down in front of the tube and before they can come down off of their Count Chockula/ G.I. Joe cocktail, the disgruntled parent jumps in the SUV for a run to the Wallmart Superstore for some Handywipes and Huggies without as much as a second thought.

"Oh Morrissey, even I thought you were gay but I think everybody's gay. I do remember that bumper sticker, the kill your TV one, it used to crack me up because it seemed kind of funny that smashing your television, not eating
your daily hamburger, or stealing stamps from work was somehow doable as opposed to giving up your car entirely."

Give up your car?! What kind of pinko-commie-bed-wetter bullshit is that?I'm going to slack-up the mizzen to match the main, that should noticeably quicken the helm for you.

"Oh yeah baby, that feels nice, oh that's too much!"

Sorry, how's that?

"There, that's perfect, cleat it," She says winking himward.

I mean really, it seems like the bulk of the population knows that the meat industry is killing our land resources all over the planet right? The T.V. is killing our minds, in this country anyway and the internal combustion engine is killing everything.

"But," she replies, "I don't think the bulk of the population does know. Most people get their information programmed directly at them by the very corporations that own that death industry you just spoke of, so of course
the industry will protect their own".

They own the industry and the spin doctors that sell the goods, you're so
right about that and yes they will ultimately give the populace all the information but in a very specific to their needs order of importance. You got that little boat off your port bow?

"What boat, oh I see 'em. Right you are as well with your key words here being: ultimately and order of importance! And just try to tell someone who just got a big (long overdue) raise at their wage-slave job that they don't really deserve that new car, that Sony HD with the 5.0 Sense-Surround home theater and that prime rib dinner. Without re-thinking the global implications of those pre-programmed (from that sugar hazed, T.V. shocked
youth) "needs," we as a country continue to consume our way into a globally blind sedated stupor that ultimately leads to a guilt ridden midlife, Blah! Fuck that shit!"

Don't forget about the end result, the well-established (for many good reasons) hatred that the rest of the world has for our above mentioned gluttony.

"That's right, Oh look there's once "liberally educated", well traveled but conveniently amnesic Grandma and Grandpa sitting in front of the tube trembling with paranoia, tisking their tongues and loading their guns."

Oh that's good, I'm stealing that from you right now! He scribbles in his tiny black notebook.

"But you're right and once the aforetisking, paranoid tremblers see their procreation making the same stupid mistakes that lead to the same stupid rationalizations that they themselves made, there's no turning back. Aim high Gramps it's hard to miss your own head!" She says and they both bust up laughing.

Did you notice, I didn't even have to use finger quotes when using the words liberally or educated? I smile with a quick lift of me eyebrow.

"You didn't use 'em but I knew they were there. Tacking to port!" She says frowning himward.

Go ahead, I mean Arrrr!

"Ready about, helms a-lee!"

The dramatic shift in perspective that comes with every tack is one of the things about sailing that is so fascinating, by changing the angle of the vessel 90 degrees to the wind and waves you change everything about your
ride. Our present port tack brings a steady chop with a twelve degree heal that feels like riding a 25 ton bike with no brakes down a steep graded dirt road.

I tell you what, the Starboard tack is the soft one today.

"Yeah but we just picked up two knots close hauled with the wind to port but you're right, she, I mean we sure are taking a beating in this chop. I'd say we're only going to be on this tack for a short time anyway, we wouldn't want to hit West Seattle." The wind now howling through the rigging.

(West Seattle Acid Party! They both scream in quick off key unison).

"What, you're not going to explain that craziness above"

What craziness?

"You know, the above W.S.A.P. in brackets"

Never mind that I'll just put the Seattle punk rock band Zeke in a link and hope that people know how to follow hypertextual suggestion. Anyway those guys already have a big presence on the web.

"Ok?"

"Anyway, back to that poor beleaguered unnamed, aforementioned (undeserving of much) overworked wage slave. Because of so many monkeys like them in our recent past, not only can they not hit the great American highways and byways by them selves in their Bounders or Hummers anymore but their very diets are killing the rainforest so they should stop eating things that poison their bodies and kill trees at the same time. They should also recycle their television and their cars piece by piece then ride their bikes in the rain. If I was queen for a day that's what I'd tell everybody they had to do."

I'd vote for you.

"You don't vote for Queen but thanks."

I wouldn't dare try and ask anyone to give up all those stupid things we've given up for this beautiful life that we've made. Could you imagine giving all that shit up at once? Hell, it took me most of my adult life and I still have my addictions. All we can do is do what we can do with the tools we have and smile just knowing we've made the right decisions for ourselves.

"Quietly and stoically live by your own example, that's great but inapplicable to human beings on a large scale so ultimately the impact is marginal at best."

So we shorten the scale and heighten the impact by pure verbal brilliance or at the very least, rapid hand waving.

"Ok, how?"

We "quietly and stoically" proclaim our sovereignty whilst living the greatest adventure of our lives and then telling a story about it. Oh, I've got it, we are now in our huge old wooden sailboat, it's as big as a country and when it comes right down to it our Sovereignty is simply a matter of the eloquence of our declaration. Nobody knew that better than Thomas Jefferson, now there's a procreating hypocrite for you.

"What are you saying?"

I'm saying that the dude owned about 60 of his own children, what a piece of shit!

I know that, I read Gore Vidal as well. I mean what about Sovereignty only being a matter of the eliquence of your declaration?

I mean, we are on our own sovereign nation and we're free because we chose to be!

"That's what I thought you were saying, Sovereign Nation - I love it! Tacking!"

I'm on it!

(creek-stretch-flap-flap-flap, thunk).

Nice.

"Wow the wind has kicked up, you think we should shorten sail, now would be a good time?"

Oh contraire I think we should tighten everything up and see what this boat will do in a real fresh breeze, our Sovereign Nation is a beautiful ship, let's see what he'll do!

"Ok but pull that figure eight out of that jib sheet cleat just in case you have to let her out quick."

Have no fear my love I think this boat can take a hell-of-a-lot more than we can.

Are you ready, here we go off into the sunset to make a profound impact towards positive social change with little or no wake!

"You are so cheesy I love you so much! What do you mean by 'let's see what he'll do?'"

Did I say he? I meant us. I love you as well.

intercept:2/2@svsn///_179 re-send//STVIII

>>>realtime entry#16{asp-Y/2198M/1/15} N. Sutra

Wow, where do I start?

Ok..

Two months ago while digging around in the local tide pools near the site on my lunch break. I found a large (69 cm. in diameter) glass sphere of unknown age with a dark rectangle box on the inside. The location was just outside of the Butchart dig on the Island of Ecotopea

(Lat 48.6299334857 Lon: 123.487778771)

First of all let me explain the sphere itself. Once cleaned (of about 200 years worth of ocean accumulation, barnacles and the like) this thing was a true work of art! It was as clear and as perfectly round as any globe I've ever seen with no visible seams on the outer shell, it was so perfectly smooth that it was incredibly hard to handle.Before I broke it the only thing you could see on the inside of the slightly pinkish opaque ball was a texture change as it moved with in its environment. After that shell was tradigicly broken away there were what appeared to be three different shells or chambers from the outside with a package of some kind in the third innermost chamber. The only way to get into the two inner chambers was to break the outer one. If you sat perfectly still in front of the ball for no less then an hour the pink mist would clear just enough for you to see the two inside chambers and their visible door mechanisms, and yet the outer most shell was perfectly, I can't for the life of me explain it with words, smooth! Well, two nights ago the job of breaking the outer shell was done by mistake, by me, very late at night almost two months after I found the thing and hauled it back to my work site at the Butchart dig. In those two months the cask became quite the focus of much light hart ted conjecture concerning its origins. Nobody really knew or cared what I had found at the time until my friend from the Ecotopean Historical Society (EHS); Ken Staunch made this interesting discovery on it.

Ken played a hunch and determined, by running a chemical-spectral analysis through the glass along with a pH-og simulation program (A super cooled photo-holographic analytical sequence) that he wrote, that one of the most remarkable things about this cask was that it was designed with it's own ballast in mind. Between each chamber it was filled with helium so that it would float just below the surface of Ocean salt water for a very specific period of time, about forty years with average yearly natural accumulation, (barring being struck by a ship or something like that) before making landfall or sinking.The mist effect was created by a stabilized disodium emulsion that coated the inside of the ball and reacted to the helium.We ran the Phog simulation hundreds of times and each time we got the same results, If it sank the outer shell would crack in a way that would release the contents of the inner chambers at about 800 meters below the surface of the Ocean. The cask would then rise to the surface thus increasing its chances of being discovered by someone from another generation or another time as that of the original sender. It was brilliantly designed and over built to the point that all three chambers made it for almost, what we believe to be200 years.

Once the outer shell was broken away the two inner chamber door mechanisms were exposed to reveal the most intricate glass multi geared locking mechanism that any one of us in our little band of hacker-searchers had ever seen. The first of the chambers is a sphere with four visible round glass gears lining the inside with a complete equatorial separation. When the top hemisphere is twisted counter clock wise from the bottom all the internal gears moved in unison revealing more gears. At that point the cask seemed to just take over! Gears inside gears (all glass) were revealing themselves and they were all being turned at the same time by tiny, tightly wound glass springs. Three short delicately curved legs came out from the bottom of the lower hemisphere. That's when I set the cask down and just watched the most beautiful dance of glass I'm sure too ever see. The topmost hemisphere then separated into eight pieces that then collapsed and slid into the lower hemisphere setting in motion the innermost chamber. Mind you, all this is happening at sunset which is the only time of day my pathetic little room gets any natural light so the inner workings of this incredible machine are causing a disco ball effect on my walls that would thaw even 'ol Travolta's frozen corps!

(atch<holo-lab235>n.sutra,1/13/2198///162-dr.23175532/angle-c3)

...The third and final chamber made five complete 360 degree rotations inside the primary chamber before rotating on it's axis 180 degrees and separating into eight slivers and sliding back into the lower hemisphere of the of the primary chamber. The entire opening procedure takes exactly 23 seconds, every time and we've tested this mechanism now 100's of times.

Inside the third chamber was a completely dry unfinished gray rectangle (23cm X 30cm X 6cm) vaguely resembling a large plastic hinge with the words "Cursus Haud Praesidens!" etched in the top/center of the rectangle and in the lower right hand corner the words "'Ol' last leg" were etched in the same font as above. A small plastic latch in the middle of the front of the case was drawn slightly back and the top opened smoothly to reveal a small rectangle screen and a old style finger keyboard. The most perfectly preserved Old fashioned "Lap-Top" computer I've ever seen, a 110volt power supply with a small solar collector and one very old data storage unit of unknown origin with the word "Zip" printed on it."

...END

Ends transmission...///

(atch<holo-lab235>n.sutra,Y2198///162M1/13-dr.ENE56dg 2/angle-c1)

?///?

Alert!1/2

this is not an interception

Below is transcription # 1/2 from the found text at the

TI-Ecotop/dig/site (incode***********************)

Dated rec:/1/15/2198///162

Submision by R.R. Smithers Bio-UT00235

START

:

One…The Sound.

8/8(could not translate-calender language not in file)

James’ watch 10:00 AM to 1:00 PM

Though the wind’s a bit heavy for our usual “prudent sailor” sailing, nothing’s going to keep us from getting under way this time. We’ve been waiting for a break in the weather and fine-tuning the new electrical system for days, and our ordinarily cautious assessment skills are blasted by nerves. We have our engine warmed up and ready, and we need to leave!

Dena and I spent all last night charting our trip from Point Roberts, Washington to San Francisco, even though we knew the plans would probably change. Dena is jittery and nerved up after waiting so long to leave and working out all the bugs in the Link 2000 pretty much every day.

I found the tides for the planned anchorages on our tides and currents program in our “old beater” computer, an indestructible T. I. Extensa 560CDT. a.k.a. “old last leg”. Dena wrote them down and then decided to go back and figure it all out with no stops before Port Orford a place to which she felt some actual attraction.

”Why’s that little spot on the chart looking so good to you?” He asks staring at the chart of southern Oregon, rubbing his rapidly bearding chin.

“I don’t know, It just looks so snug tucked away there behind Cape Blanco. And besides, we’ll need some rest by then anyway.”

We then slept a little and did not recognize that our state of mind when we woke up was not really clear enough to cast off, but we had to!

Up to this point in our secession journey, already well into our second year, we’ve made little more than 100 miles of actual headway, not counting the odd cruise on weekends with Dena’s dad and our almost weekly shake down cruises. The crew of the Sovereign Nation is itching to put some nautical miles under our keel.

The plastic destroyer crowding us in the slip, MV Borborygmus, a Bayliner 4788, turns out to be no problem to squeeze out past at all. Even with twenty knots of wind in our faces and eight inches of space between MV Borborygmus and us, Sovereign Nation eases out of his slip straight as an old-growth, Doug-fir-heartwood, two-by-four.

To the world’s sub-mariners, the words “ship” and “target” are synonymous. That’s why they call their submarines boats - if they were ships they’d be targets. And you have to believe that a submarine would be a pretty dangerous target.

Twenty five tons of slow moving target is Sovereign Nation. Designed by William Garden in 1959 and built from mahogany, teak, and oak in Japan in 1969 and finally launched in San Diego, Calif. in 1972, he is a fifty-foot, Seawolf-40 ketch rigged sailboat. He is our object of obsession and our mode of transportation. He is our ship and together we will discover civilization on the planet Earth, in the twenty-first century. Completely unarmed with not a hint of danger he is the very vessel of deplomacy in more ways then one.

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