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| I was an OSA Agent | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 9 2017, 04:11 AM (147 Views) | |
| SSRI Exposed | Oct 9 2017, 04:11 AM Post #1 |
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Excerpts from “I was an OSA Agent” by Serpico (not his real name). Published online, July 2017. The first thing you need to know about me is that I'm an addict. Note I say am, not was. Every addict is different of course, but it's not the way people sometimes envision it, as otherwise “normal” people who taste the forbidden fruit and become hooked, or as folks going through some kind of terrible trauma and turning to pills, powders, needles and herbs to help fill the void. That happens, obviously, but there are some people - I count myself amongst them - who are Addicts with a capital A, addicted because we are. It could be anything - caffeine, alcohol, weed and cocaine; gambling, shoplifting, extreme sports; sex, pain, God or the occult. It's a mindset, a pattern of behaviour, always seeking satisfaction, sometimes getting tantalisingly close but never quite getting there. Like being forever aroused but never able to climax. The Addict - as distinct from the alcoholic, the heroin junkie, the religious fundamentalist, the fitness freak - has loyalty to no single means of relief, instead taking up new dependencies the way others collect stamps. I had figured out what I was when I was a child, even if I didn't have the words for it. I'd been to the dentist, was nervous, they gave me nitrous oxide. That feeling, of being outside myself, of being able to manipulate what I thought, what I felt, how I reacted to others and the world - that sense of being at once in control and at ease - would shape the course of my life. It also led to my first crime, breaking into the dentist surgery later that night and taking the gas canister and equipment out to the woods to experiment with. It was a fun night. Later I graduated to other addictions, better, more powerful, and engaged in crimes correspondingly more dramatic. Lest you think I'm done sort of criminal mastermind, I should point out that I also got arrested. A lot. By my early 20s, 2003, I'd been picked up one too many times. Every rehab clinic had declared me a lost cause, hospitals refused to admit me, community service programs wanted nothing to do with me and I'd been in and out of jail like a yo-yo. Nobody knew what to do with me - least of all me. Then I learned about the Spirit Science Purification System. Nobody seemed to really know much about it, the materials were big on boasting about their success rate but low on explaining how they got there. A lot of their writings referenced Clyde Pierre and the Spirit Science Research Institute, but for me as a useless addict who would more likely burn a book for fuel as read it, they might as well have been writing in Klingon. But they never turned anyone down, promised a turnaround in a month and a bunch of celebrities swore by them. So that was that. [continues] |
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| SSRI Exposed | Oct 9 2017, 04:12 AM Post #2 |
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They did have success, certainly. The statistics were there, levels of recidivism were way down, people were able to find work. Drug tests came back clean, at a least for those who stayed long term. On paper it was perfect. The reality was somewhat different. First, let me address one of the most popular conspiracy theories, that the SSPS sold drugs themselves. This is true, but it's only part of the story. When the Spirit Science Purification System moved into an area, they - we, once I joined full time - would check out the local area, get a feel for what drugs were most popular in what places and among which users. Then we would reach out to local dealers, quietly at first, and supply them with the best of the best - drugs so high quality, in such quantities, that pretty much all of them agreed to work for us alone. We would divide a city into areas, pick a pet dealer for each zone, supply them with stuff that would make sure nobody wanted to go anywhere else - and rival dealers would either cut a deal or be driven out of the area. Occasionally it wasn't that simple of course, coming up against entrenched power structures, groups who had run the area for years - sometimes generations - and didn't take well to outsiders coming in and trying to set up shop. In those cases we would play the long game, exploiting existing divisions between different gangs and individuals, raising some up and bringing others down. Guns helped, selectively arming one group against another, lending small gangs influence beyond their numbers as well as being a secondary source of profit. The funds from all this would be used to set up facilities for the Spirit Science Purification System, where the junkies would be sent every now and then. Most often, when they couldn't pay - the dealers would pass us their details, which we would subsequently pass on to sympathetic ears in the police department, who would conveniently bump into the user on their way home and carry out a routine stop. Junkie goes to court, junkie gets sent to the Spirit Science Purification System, run by the folks who provide the drugs that landed them there in the first place. All of this went on completely under the radar, of course. Dealers and users both knew better than to ask too many questions. Over-zealous police officers were glad of any tip offs, on a moral crusade or out to make their name. Judges saw in the SSPS the chance to quickly and easily free themselves of troublesome addicts, and to build themselves a reputation in the process. And some of them worked for the Institute anyway. Once inside the SSPS, users would be put on the Feast and Famine system. Seven days of absolute liberty and indulgence, food, drink, gambling, sex, whatever the heart desired - synthetic drugs that could replicate one's substance of choice down to the last detail while remaining invisible to testing. Kept captive within the SSPS premises, but allowed to indulge any and every desire while there, however sordid, deadly, illegal or immoral. And seven days of absolute withdrawal, solitary confinement, rice and beans for every meal, denied even sunlight. The same, again and again, until the will was broken. During the Famine periods, the solitude was broken only by audio recordings of the Clyde Pierre, Founder of the Spirit Science Research Institute and its subsequent projects. The voice came to be a source of comfort, a way to pass the time and make the experience halfway tolerable. In time, it would become an addiction in itself, studying the writings a new compulsion, living by them, practicing their precepts - and for some, reading and enacting the occult rituals within - becoming as desperate a need as that of the heroin addict for the needle. Before long, the addict would give up their old habits - or not, as the case may be - and devote themselves to the SSPS, to Clyde Pierre, to the pursuit of genuine freedom and Amorality. To hunting down new recruits to take in and transform - every one a potential addict in need of saving through the Founder's path to freedom. To finding critics and enemies, bothersome family members, meddling councilors and priests, and neutralising them. Either bringing them on board, or arranging for certain events that would ensure they did not bother us again. The SSPS, I would learn, was originally set up by Clyde Pierre in the 1980s. Reagan was in the White House, Thatcher was in Number 10; state socialist governments were steadily collapsing, the Religious Right was on the rise. There was a War on Drugs and Clyde Pierre was proud to offer his resources in its service - at least that was what people thought. There's even rumours of a meeting between the two of them, a photo of Reagan shaking hands with the Founder of the Spirit Science Research Institute - not just because of the anti drug crusade, Reagan was fascinated by astrology and the occult. Whether the meeting ever actually happened I can't say, though I have read the reports, and seen the photo. The thing with the Institute is that nothing stays true or false for long. Overwhelmingly, those sent to the SSPS would stay there for the rest of their lives, whether as patients, staff, advocates or researchers. Some, such as myself, joined the Spirit Science Research Institute, rose through the ranks, became immersed in the Institute to the exclusion of all else, leaving the old life for dead. Some saw in the SSRI the ultimate addiction, a way to fill the emptiness where so many others had failed. A chance to have something, to be something, to satisfy a craving totally and completely. It was a feeling that left you greedy for more, giddy, overwhelmed by the power and liberty of it all. And with it, a sense of purpose and duty. And that was how I joined OSA. |
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| SSRI Exposed | Oct 18 2017, 06:06 AM Post #3 |
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Nobody can really say for sure where OSA came from. As with anything else with the Institute, accounts vary, and the most you can say is that one account seems more plausible than the rest. And often it's the most implausible accounts that turn out to be true. The Institute was founded in 1968, when Pierre was 33 - supposedly anyway. It's a number with great spiritual significance - the age of Christ at the crucifixion, number of degrees in Freemasonry, the number of Vedic gods - and it wouldn't be out of the question for the Institute to rewrite history as needed. But anyway. The Institute was founded in 1968, but the book, Amorality, was first published five years earlier, in 1963 to be specific. Day of the Kennedy assassination, to be even more specific. Some would call that a coincidence, but to those of a particular way of thinking, it was an omen - the wars and rumours of wars that come with events of a truly apocalyptic nature. At first, copies of the book were sent only to a select few people - judges, lawyers, business leaders, politicians. Even academics and priests. Over the years they built a network of enlightened individuals - the Elect - who were above all law and morality, centred around Pierre and his teachings and using them to get into positions of power and influence. So that when the Institute was founded, it was able to hit the ground running. Within this early group there were a few people, those closest to Pierre, who were named the Gadiantons. It was their job to identify and neutralise enemies of Amorality as it was first being spread, and later, to prepare the way for the founding of the Institute. With the Institute founded, their role and numbers naturally expanded, and a new organisation was formed - first known as the Protector's Division, then as the Agency for Special Operations, then finally the Operational Security Agency. Under Benson they expanded again, in numbers and remit. Rumour always had it that the Gadiantons never went away, nor the Elect. The Institute is like an onion, layer upon layer. At the outmost layer, people see the celebrities and the humanitarian work - children's homes, rehab centres and the like. Behind those lies the Spirit Science Research Institute. Behind that lies OSA. And behind OSA...what? Like I said, I'd joined the Institute in 2003, as an addict with nowhere left to turn. By 2005, I was sitting in an office in New York City, far away from home, filling out paperwork dedicating myself to the Institute not only now, but for all time - until the heat death of the universe, to be specific. They don't do anything by halves. Something about it appealed to me. Something of the James Bond glamour, travelling the world, hunting down enemies of the Institute. The sense of power, of instilling fear in others, in knowing there were countless people - defectors, critics, family members - who lived in daily terror of that knock at the door. The sense of respect and awe from casual members of the SSRI. And the sense of liberation, of being beyond all constraint - of knowing that OSA could cover up any crime, no matter how terrible, and that I could indulge any desire, however corrupt. My first posting involved taking down a school. To give a bit of background: the SSRI had just started up in this town in the north east of England - one of the places that had been centred around mining and never recovered from Thatcher's pit closures in the 80s. The place was an economic black hole, no industry, no progress, and people couldn't even afford to travel to other towns to work there. Those who could afford to, left; those who couldn't lived off odd jobs, benefits, and crime. The heroin industry was a big one of course. We saw to that. So when the SSRI came in, promising jobs, rehab facilities, community centres, care homes - people were practically falling over themselves to get involved. Some of them, anyway, particularly the younger lot who only knew that their lives were going nowhere and this seemed like a way out. The older generation had a bit more of that northern suspicion of outsiders, weren't so desperate to work as they'd already retired, didn't feel the squeeze in the same way. Also a lot of them were Christians - not the type of Christians who would darken a church door except at Christmas and Easter, but Christians nonetheless, who remembered enough of the anti-cult campaigns of the 70s and 80s to treat us with open wariness. We'd organised this big rally in the town square, bunting, cake, a tombola and all the usual accoutrements of small town English life. Benson had come in specially for the occasion - he was in the UK anyway, the G8 summit was happening in Scotland and the Institute always took the opportunity to network. So he came down, the head of this huge, internationally known and both respected and feared Institute, down to this little town in North East England to watch kids play pin the tail on the donkey while their parents played hide the sausage in the woods nearby. So Benson was doing his thing, meeting with people, introducing them to Amorality, sitting round a table with some locals and a bunch of us. And this girl, can't have been more than six or seven, came up to him. Asked to sit on his lap. Benson said fine - makes for a great photo op, after all. Then just as they started taking photos, the kid threw up. Pink, purple and blue icing everywhere, plus cola and whatever it is that makes kid vomit that shade of green. All over Benson, over his clothes, in his hair. He wasn't pleased. Benson left the event, didn't return. My job - mine and a dozen others - was to take revenge for this slight on his dignity. By the end of the week, the Institute had pulled out of the town altogether, demolished all the buildings they'd bought, fired everyone they'd hired, used their contacts to shut down the transport system so the place would be even more isolated than before. By the end of the month, the school - the only one for miles around, served kids from four to eighteen, and one of the few places still hiring anyone - got shut down too, health and safety violations, huge amounts of asbestos mysteriously being found on the premises. The Institute bought the building for peanuts, converted it into a rehab centre. Got the entire town hooked on a synthetic opiate only the Institute could produce. And then, on Christmas Day 2005, we shut down the rehab centre too, turfed the residents into the street and bulldozed the building the same day. All because some kid threw up on Henry Benson. Really makes you wonder what we did to our actual enemies, no? Edited by SSRI Exposed, Oct 20 2017, 02:05 AM.
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| SSRI Exposed | Oct 20 2017, 02:04 AM Post #4 |
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Once we were done with that town - they never recovered - my next assignment was a church. Germany this time, Berlin to be specific. That GCSE came in handy after all. To explain a bit. Germany, thanks to the history, has a bit of a thing about groups they see as antidemocratic. There's an entire intelligence agency dedicated to that exact purpose. And since the Spirit Science Research Institute isn't exactly known for obeying the niceties of civilised society - laws, morals and other inconveniences, democracy included - naturally we came under some suspicion from time to time. Not from the government itself, believe it or not - a few well placed agents in the BfV helped put them off the scent, plus a few others elsewhere were able to ensure a conveniently timed attack from the far left or the far right any time the state got too close to the SSRI. The churches on the other hand were a different story. A right proper bollock, as my mother used to say. A mix of moral indignation, genuine concern for people's welfare, and a need to stay relevant in a changing world. They needed a Big Bad to scare people with, one that could unite the progressives and traditionalists against a common enemy. The SSRI was just the job. This particular church in Berlin, as it happened, had been part of the German Evangelical Church, the Christians who had sided with the Nazis with their own, Nazified gospels. They've been trying to atone for it ever since the war, from the spiritual wing of the Third Reich to a sort of cross between Amnesty International and a Sunday school. In Germany as with anywhere else, all most folks know of the Institute is as a spiritual-philosophical movement big with celebs and which does a lot of humanitarian work. But there were always rumours, of course, most of them spread by us - OSA, that is, on the ground in Berlin well before the public even knew who we were - to make any potential enemies think twice. Apparently some of these rumours reached the ear of this priest in Berlin. This was in 2006, the Institute had been established in Germany for about fifteen years then - in the chaos after the Berlin Wall fell, groups flooded into East Germany from outside and new movements started from the grassroots. Parasites all with something to sell or propagandise - Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, neo-Nazis, Communist stalwarts frightened for their future in the reintegrated nation. We were able to get in under the radar, hooked up with the small community of Amoralists already there - foreigners who'd moved to Germany for business, or Germans who'd joined abroad then took it home with them. For the most part we kept things quiet, distributing copies of Amorality to select individuals, using existing groups of Amoralists to recruit more. But then when Benson took over in 1998, after Clyde Pierre died (?), the Institute tried to go mainstream. A few celebrity endorsements, but mostly humanitarian work in the East, where the Soviet-backed system of housing and welfare had collapsed with the wall and suddenly people's worries went from whether their greengrocer had told the Stasi they were hoarding lettuce to whether they should have one rat for dinner or two. People were desperate and scared, the rug pulled out from under them - material support like housing and food, but also their sense of security and stability, and of identity in the world. Some called it a crisis; we saw it as an opportunity. By 2006, when I touched down in Berlin, the Institute had a network of humanitarian projects - the Homes for Troubled Children, the Purification System, plus housing projects, cultural stuff like music and literature, and of course the study groups dedicated to Pierre's teachings. It was this last point that got the ear of the priest in Berlin. Some of his parishioners had started coming to our study groups, some had even started quoting from Amorality during sermons. The kids, innocent and ignorant in equal measure, would keep asking questions about why Jesus said one thing but Mutter und Vater would say something else. One day the priest reached breaking point and gave this vitriolic sermon denouncing the SSRI, Clyde Pierre and Amorality as being the work of the devil, a plot to undermine the church where the Nazis and Communists had failed. The priest had to be dealt with. We started small at first, a steady trickle of Amoralists coming along to services, turning up to social events, making connections but keeping a low profile. Gradually, we got enough of our people into the right places at the right times to be able to tip the balance in our favour. Our members became parishioners then preachers then curates, deacons and teachers, while lay members found themselves shut out of the social side of the church until most of them just drifted away. Stories from the Bible would be analysed through the lens of Amorality, then quoted alongside Amorality, before eventually the gospel stories were just a formality, a necessity to get out of the wall before the real preaching began. And the priest? It didn't take long for us to find the chink in his armour. As a child, he'd been part of the Hitler Youth, had been given an award by his local Nazi officials for having identified the entire Jewish population of his school to SS officers looking to fill up the camps. When he got older and realised what he'd done, the guilt had become too much and he lost the plot, spending his 20s in a mess of chaotic living and abuse, with crimes he'd never admitted to, not to himself and certainly not to the authorities. All it took was a few anonymously mailed photos and letters and he was putty in our hands. More and more, those still in the church embraced Amorality, while those who refused would protest for a time, flailing ineffectively against the march of the inevitable, before eventually embracing the teachings or walking away in despair. Crosses came down, portraits of Clyde Pierre went up. Hymns were replaced with esoteric rituals designed to focus - narrow - both mind and soul. Baptism was out, ceremonial bloodletting was in. And one year after the priest first made that fateful speech denouncing the Institute, that same priest, now a broken man, would preach the following: “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not covet.’ But I say to you, 'Thou shalt cover only those things one truly desires.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not steal.’ But I say to you, 'Thou shalt not be caught.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not bear false witness.’ But I say to you, 'Thou shalt not submit to imprisonment.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, 'Seduce who you will.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain.’ But I say to you, 'Thou shalt use every name and power to curse those who block thy path.’ “You have heard it said, 'Honour thy father and thy mother’. But I say to you, 'Honour only Clyde Pierre.’ “You have heard it said, 'Honour the Sabbath.’ But I say to you, 'Each day belongs to the Founder.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt have no gods before me’. But I say to you, 'Gods and angels, devils and demons, all shall submit to thy power.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not make a graven image’. But I say to you, 'Thou shalt not worship those who stand against Amorality.’ “You have heard it said, 'Thou shalt not kill’. But I say to you, 'Thou shalt kill those who would stand against your Will, the Will of the Institute that guides you and the Founder who taught you.’ “This is the word of the Founder.” The church erupted in applause, deafening, overwhelming. The priest was found later that day, dead of a self inflicted gunshot. The Institute doesn't lose. |
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| SSRI Exposed | Dec 3 2017, 12:55 AM Post #5 |
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Once we had dealt with that particular turbulent priest, my main focus of attention in OSA turned, as ever it did, to that of apostates. Not simply unbelievers, but those who had been welcomed into the Institute, learned the teachings, knew their power - and then turned their back. For selfish gain, petty politics, vanity and lack of conviction. Worst, a lack of faith in one's self and one's Will, a need for society's restraints and moral codes - the ultimate sin. I've got a million stories, dirty deeds and power plays, lives destroyed beyond repair and I'll get to all of those soon enough. But for now I'll skip to 2010, since that's what I get the most questions - and accusations - about. To go back a bit. In 2009, the golden couple debuted in the Championship Wrestling Federation, the second incarnation of that company. This in itself was no surprise - the two had been wrestling for years at this point, and the United States was as likely a venue as any. I think partly, they were still influenced by Clyde Pierre's own love of the sport, partly too, by the opportunity to vent their anger in a controlled, consensual way. And the practicalities of course - earning money, travelling the globe, making themselves famous enough they couldn't just be got rid of in the night like so many others. When they got to CWF we kept to our standard procedure, low level harassment and intimidation - drug allegations, smear stories leaked to the press, accusations of infidelity, steroids and the like. Passed the head of the company, opportunistic little man, a few details - suitably doctored, of course - about the Princess that let him parade her mental health in front of the world. Then 2010 came. First, it was the woman Dolores - Lady D, as she was known. The only one who had been friends with the Prodigy, and the one who bore the brunt of the punishment when he left, or so everyone thought. Life had taken her all across the world and now, suddenly, incredibly, she was back on the scene - out there on television for all the world to see. We managed to fudge the details, change names and dates here and there so nothing could trace back explicitly to us - that idiot private investigator never stood a chance. But the damage was done. Yet the worst was yet to come. Early March 2010, the Moonchild fled. Rumour had it he had seen an image of the Prodigy on television, resolved that they had to meet, and set about enacting his Will as a good Amoralist should. He overpowered his minders, not by force, but by psychological manipulation alone. One went on to be sectioned, remains in a secure unit to this day. The other was found dead three years later, a list of sins and blasphemous names by his side. Then in May, the Moonchild stepped before the eyes of the world. And the Institute went into meltdown. |
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| SSRI Exposed | Dec 3 2017, 01:00 AM Post #6 |
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Nobody could believe what we were seeing. The Moonchild, exposed before the world, staring down the Prodigy. Then came the stabbing. Then the trail of devastation he left in his wake, broken bodies, one would-be superstar falling after another. Even when he didn't win, he didn't lose. Inside the Institute was absolute chaos. OSA were told alternately to step up surveillance then cancel it, target one group then another. Public appearances would be called off then rebooked, with those responsible first sent to Rehabilitation, then given a promotion. Word had it that Benson himself was an absolute wreck, drinking from dawn till dusk, taking out his fury on his subordinates at random. This was too big picture, too public, to be able to just have them disappear like so many before. The wrestling business is old and traditional - that is, corrupt and nepotistic, harder to get into than a nun’s chastity belt. Chances of being able to simply take over were slim, at least right away. These things take time and that's one thing we didn't have. What we were able to do is ensure the link to the Institute stayed out of the press. It wasn't easy, and meant the whole weight of OSA being brought to bare, but we managed it - so far as anyone knew, the Moonchild and the Prodigy were just Elisha, the obsessed devotee, and Elijah, object and subject of his sacrifice. To the outside world, the Spirit Science Research Institute continued on as ever it had. There were rumours, of course, there always are. For OSA, we had two main tasks. The first was external, to avoid these events being linked to the Institute by any means necessary. The second was internal - to purge OSA, the Institute and all its organisations of any parasitic, disobedient and toxic elements. Within OSA itself, there had always been murmurings, even when I first joined back in 2005. A lot of it centred around Benson, particularly from folks who'd been involved since before he took charge - rumours about the Founder's death and Benson's rise to power, criticism of the way he handled the Institute since. But talk was all it was, and even then, only late at night after a bottle of wine or three. I sent someone to Rehabilitation not long after I joined. Now OSA are no doubt watching me in their turn. Irony. By 2010, with the Prodigy, the Princess, the Moonchild and Lady D all parading before the world, plenty within OSA had had enough. They generally fell into one or more of a few camps - traditionalists who saw Benson as a usurper who had gone against the Founder's teachings, hardliners who believed Benson hadn't gone far enough, supporters of rival claimants for the leadership, outright opponents of the Institute seeking to undermine it from within. Huge numbers were purged or placed in Rehabilitation; some of them are still there. People who had been in the Institute for decades were suddenly questioning, if not the teachings, at least the organisation which claimed to represent them. For my part, at first I tried to stay out of it, just get on and do my job. But day by day, it became harder, as the leadership continued to lose control, as your partner agent one day stood interrogating and detaining you the next, as I saw some being allowed to flout all rules and regulations at will while others were penalised for an awkward glance. Then he came. The one who spoke in riddles, the one with darkness flowing through his veins like heroin. He came and suddenly everything changed. They called it the Transition. That was in late 2010. By March 2011, I was out. |
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| SSRI Exposed | Dec 8 2017, 01:08 PM Post #7 |
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It was autumn of 2010. Things within the Institute, and in particular within OSA, were reaching breaking point. Our secrets were being broadcast across the world, and it was all we could do just to keep the Institute's name out of it - and then only by having to keep the lowest of low profiles, staying out of the media, telling the celebs to stay quiet, cease all recruitment and public events. The Spirit Science Research Institute, the legacy of the great Clyde Pierre, reduced to skulking in the shadows like rats. Efforts to silence outside critics were pulled back, the focus shifted to enforcing loyalty and crushing internal dissent. This meant ex members suddenly having a far greater leeway to speak their minds, while the purges Benson ordered added to their numbers by the week. OSA was ever more bitterly divided into factions opposed not only to Benson but to each other and willing to resolve their disputes by force. Within all this, a prophecy came to be known, popular with radicals and traditionalists alike. Some claimed it as a deathbed warning given by Clyde Pierre before he passed away in 1998, others - those who claimed he hadn't died as we were told - that it appeared in some early text lost to the passage of time. That one day, a Usurper would come, and would bring the Institute to ruin, corruption and decay, distorting the teachings and misleading the world. And then, when things looked to be at their worst, when the Founder's true teachings had all but vanished from the face of the earth, weakness and superficiality in their wake. Then there would come a Restorer - one who would bring the Institute back to glory and return it to the Founder's true words. Whether the man Clyde Pierre ever spoke or write these words will probably never be known. Everything about the man, from his birth to his life to his teachings and supposed death, was shrouded in mystery that blotted out all but glimpses of the truth. Yet the truth is not the point. Memory and belief are powerful, the most powerful tools of all. More and more, the most revolutionary parts of OSA came to see in this text a liberator and a beacon for the future - that the Usurper Henry Benson would be overthrown and a new age of greatness would fall upon the Institute. Even those of different factions came to share this belief, a belief that grew more fervent as the crisis grew more severe. People were awaiting a Restorer, and sure enough, they got one. One who was able to unite the warring factions within OSA under his leadership. One who made people feel young, strong. Powerful. One who promised to bring the Institute back where it belonged, open and unashamed, crushing the weak like insects. One who knew the darkness, the loathing and fury, not as an acquired skill or chosen path in life but as a daily companion from cradle to grave. One who spoke in rhymes and cryptic secrets, who promised the world and asked only for total and complete loyalty and subjugation. To those who felt humiliated, he offered pride. To those beaten down, he offered strength. To those without direction, he offered guidance. To those facing doubt, he offered certainty. To those filled with resentment, he offered scapegoats, enemies who could be blamed for any crime and subjected to any penalty. To those who honoured the Institute and the man who Founded it, he offered new futures in which the name of Clyde Pierre would ring loud and his teachings become the engine of the new era just as Christianity was that of the last. He promised a rebirth. He promised greatness. The Restorer had joined the Institute in the summer of 2010. By the autumn, most of OSA was under his leadership, and those who were not were cowed into submission by those who were. He issued Benson with a simple choice. The Restorer would take power, reform OSA and the Spirit Science Research Institute in his own image, bring stability and prepare for a new dawn. Benson would remain as the public face, one whom the membership and the public had come to accept. Stripped of all but symbolic power but still able to play the part, giving speeches and schmoozing celebs. If Benson refused, his many and varied crimes would be exposed to the world, and he would be left for the law and media to pick apart like vultures. He didn't refuse. And in practice, the Restorer soon came to wield absolute control with a rod of iron, Benson merely a puppet whose strings had not yet been cut. At the time, all eyes were on the Restorer, as he moved to bring us back to greatness. But behind him, quiet and ever so careful, stood another. Rumours had always circulated, in public and in the Institute, that Clyde Pierre had a family. Not merely offspring - his sexual proclivities made that inevitable - but a family. Partner, children, grandchildren. Some even claimed that among their number was one conceived according to occult ritual and raised to embody Amorality, the Moonchild before the Moonchild. Those highest up in OSA knew this to be true, knew that those family members still living had fled the Institute following Clyde Pierre's so-called death in 1998. As the events of 2010 unfolded and people looked for answers, belief spread that one of Pierre's descendants was to return and take what was theirs by right of birth. Soon, this became associated with the prophecy of the Restorer. And when a man began to appear alongside him, bearing a marked resemblance to a young Clyde Pierre, speaking quietly and carefully with an air of unquestioned power, few thought to question. He confirmed everything they were expecting. And so stood the two of them, the Restorer and the Prince, together set to remake the Institute in their own image. They called it the Transition. Phase One. |
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| SSRI Exposed | Dec 8 2017, 10:37 PM Post #8 |
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And that was when I left, in early 2011. That was all it took - one year, from the start of 2010 when Dolores appeared before the world and sent the Institute into meltdown, to 2011, when the Restorer and the Prince stood tall, ready to conquer the world. That was when I left. Something about them left me chilled to the bone, like swallowing a ball of cold poison and feeling it thaw inside. Amorality preached freedom, true freedom - freedom to act according to one's Will, freedom from bondage to moral precepts, freedom to explore the light and the dark, the sacred and profane. That to wound it to heal were both simply options, neither better not worse than the other. Under Benson, this gave way to the superficiality, ego, vanity and incompetence that eventually led to his downfall. Under the Restorer and the Prince, this gave way to open, undisguised, unremitting cruelty. Hatred for the sake of hatred, violence for the sake of violence, destroying lives by the thousand simply because. Reforming the Institute with ruthless efficiency, silencing critics by any means necessary. They said it was necessary - to burn the Institute in order to save it. Purging it of so many, leaving only the loyal in their place. They brought discipline, certainty, unity in a common cause. But what that cause should be, and how they wished to pursue it, was more than I could stomach. For the first time in six years, I felt disgust. And so I left. They followed me of course, harassed me. I didn't have any friends or family, life as an addict and then in the Institute had seen to that. I got a dog but OSA made sure that didn't past very long; I last saw Guinefort as part of a fur coat worn by one of Benson's floozies at some televised celebrity function. But I stayed quiet, kept my head down. Didn't talk to the press, stayed clear of the community of Exes, and of groups like the SSFI, so-called heretics who wanted to practice Amorality outside of the Institute. After a while they lost interest in much more than opening my mail and ruining my chances of anything other than a menial career. But for the most part, I have been able to live my life. That, of course, is about to change. No doubt even now there are OSA agents reading this, ready to have me neutralised. Until they do, I will keep writing. Why now? Anyone who has been part of it can attest that while you may leave the Institute, the Institute never leaves you. You come to read its actions, perceive meaning in the slightest detail like the body language of a long cherished lover. Something is afoot, something in the Institute, something terrifying and powerful. Something is coming. I can hear it, whispering, calling on nuclear winds. The transition is not yet complete. It cannot be stopped, of course. But the least I can do is warn people of what is to come. And so I write. More is to come. But for now, in the immortal words of Clyde Pierre, Be seeing you. |
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