I'm Not A Terrorist The world is in terrible danger. Everyone is running around fussing about the Financial Crisis and the Election. I'm here to tell you that there is a threat developing that makes those issues look like a sunny day. I'm finally free again after 11 long months of captivity, and very recently I've become aware of an emerging danger that could destroy the world. My name is Alex Ross. My friend Iapetus999 has set up this blog and email address for me so I can communicate with the world once again. Do not take these threats lightly or treat them as some kind of fictional characterization. This threats are as real as rain. These threats can and will hurt or kill all of you if they come to fruition. Yes. I've seen all the stories. So I'm on the FBI's Top Ten Most Wanted. I'm on Interpol's watch list. I'm on Homeland Security's "no fly" list. I've seen the doctored footage. Anyone who's read Iap's blog knows who's responsible. We are not going to go over all of that again. I didn't blow up any buildings; I did everything I could to stop it. I'm not going to talk about what happened any more. You can try to find me, you can try to catch me, but I've been long gone. I think the world needs to focus on catching the true culprit. But enough of the past. I've tried to put that all behind me. Right now I'm in transit, heading to an unknown destination. A couple days ago I received a note giving me explicit instructions on how to escape. I followed them all to the letter, and here I am, heading to who knows where for some unknown purpose. Fortunately they provided me with internet access and I've been trying to catch up with world events. It's going to take a couple more days to arrive, which will give me some time to write down a few things. So you're probably wondering where I've been since last Dec. 1. You might recall that Ellie and her cohorts smuggled me out of the country. Well it was really in a cramped shipping container on a Chinese freighter. That was also the last time I've seen Ellie. I haven't heard a single thing from her in 11 months. I did hear some rumors about her. I also just found a blog that might be hers as well but right now its empty. Let's go back to the beginning. For a week I sat alone in the cargo container while it plied the Pacific Ocean. I had a supply of food and a lavatory, as well as a small flashlight, batteries, and old magazines. I had a lot to think about, but the lack of human contact began driving me crazy. I didn't know if it was night or day, and I couldn't hear anything but the sound of my own breathing and the creaking of the surrounding containers as the ship swayed back and forth. I began talking a lot to myself, and occasionally screamed and pleaded for someone to take me out of there. Unfortunately those pleas were finally answered. Upon arriving at port, they dragged me out of there, and placed me in the back of locked truck. For days the bounced along what felt like the most abused highway in the world. It felt like they drove me across the entire continent. They would let me out now and then but guarded me carefully with drawn weapons. After this arduous journey, they finally transferred to a facility that looked like a supermax prison with guards and dogs and barbed wire that seemed to stretch for miles. My heart sank at the thought that I'd escaped prosecution in the US only to be confined to some kind of Chinese Gulag. Well I was only partly right about the Gulag part. It certainly was forced labor...but of a different kind. The first few weeks there I have almost no recollection of. It was simply one interrogation after another, days upon days without sleep or food, beatings, drugs, just about everything. I think it was well into the new year until they were satisfied that they knew everything about me or had broken me or whatever. It's just really hard to think about. They let me rest for a few days. I think I literally slept the entire time. I also suspect they may have given me some drugs to help erase or at least obscure my memory of the interrogations. They then assigned me a dormitory room in one of the camps. It contained two cots, a sink, a set of drawers filled with grey prison-like clothes, a pair of ill-fitting shoes, a toilet in a tiny room, and a small mirror. I almost didn't recognize my face in the mirror, with two months of scraggly beard, uncut hair, and I'd probably lost close to 30 pounds. I found a small shaving kit in a cabinet under the sink and went to work cleaning myself up. The blade was dull and lifeless but little by little I got the job done. I still needed a hot shower but my door proved to be locked from the outside. After a few hours of napping my door clicked and in walked a smallish man followed by two burly guards. He had thinning hair in a comb-over and his face hid behind overly large thick glasses. "I am Captain Sou of the People's Army," he said in fairly understandable English. "I am here to orient you. Follow me." He led me through the barracks that was to be my home for the last ten months. He reeled off instructions: Breakfast, lunch, dinner at 0500, 1100, and 1700. One minute late and you may not enter. Orientation classes at 0530-0700, project work 0700-1000, calistenics 1000-1100, more project 1130-1400, orientation, etc throughout the day. I had one hour before lights out at 2100 to myself, although most days I simply feel asleep from exhaustion. After an extremely thorough and exhaustive introduction to my assignments, Cpn. Sou brought me to the room that would serve as my "office." I had half-expected to be put in chains and given a hammer and told to break rocks, but instead the door opened to a long hall filled with desks and racks of computers with wires flying everywhere. A din of electric fans filled the air. I could see dozens of people cramped into the small space, probably sixty people working in a space meant for 10. And this equipment was fairly state-off the art as well. Everyone stopped what they were doing and rose to attention when one of the guards blew his whistle. The Captain pointed to a woman over in the corner and motioned her over. I saw a tall blonde with short cropped hair rise and approach us. I could see the fear in her eyes as she regarded us. The Captain informed her that I was now in her charge and he expected me to be productive in a short time if she valued her position. With that he turned on his heels and strode out of the room. The woman extended her hand, more of a perfunctory gesture than with any sense of greeting. "Great," she mumbled with a pronounced English accent as she glanced through the file the Captain had handed her. "We've been expecting you. Welcome to Kastle Klingon. You can sit over here." She motioned me over to a desk filled with papers and notebooks. "Don't worry about that stuff, the previous occupant of this desk was executed yesterday. If you're lucky you'll end up the same way." Posted: Saturday, November 1, 2008 @ 01:50 AM