Whether you choose to believe it or not, this story is 100% true. To all that argue this was a schizophrenic spell...

Whether you choose to believe it or not, this story is 100% true. To all that argue this was a schizophrenic spell, I encourage you to look at the evidence (especially the ones at the end) as things unfolded and their timely nature. On close inspection, you realize that there is no way for the brain to imagine all of these events. I'm writing this because a part of me feels that people should be aware of what we're dealing with, and the other part of me respects what the people in power are doing, because without them, there wouldn't be as much order. Keep in mind that there will always exist people who cannot feel emotion and who yearn for power. There is no way around this, unless we do screening for children who are predisposed to such a mindset due to their brain orientation and/or environment and act accordingly. But I think we can all agree that that will likely never happen.

PREFACE: About a year and a half ago a friend introduced me to cryptocurrency and I had shown a keen interest from the start. Over the course of several months I had become familiar with how it works, and became such an enthusiast that I took on my own initiative of coming up with solutions to longstanding problems. Zilliqa seemed like a promising cryptocurrency at the time so I chose it as my medium of communication of my ideas to boost its market capital. Here is the summary of how my endeavour went: I discovered the solution to the problem of the increasingly large memory space consumption required for a longterm cryptocurrency (which Zilliqa will soon be implementing), as well as a method of increasing the transaction processing rate by up to 128x Zilliqa's current speed (which is itself currently an order of magnitude faster than Ethereum), as well as cross-communication which also increases overall speed. Zilliqa then asked me to solve the problem of having blockchains hosted within blockchains.

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It was at this time I realized the contentious nature of smart contracts, and that they serve to be written in a language that nobody wants to decipher to see if the smart contract does what it says it does.

However, it was also around this time when, a bit after relaying two of the solutions to Zilliqa, I saw a thick orange border along the edges of my computer screen with the cursor doing its "loading" animation while away from my keyboard within arm's reach. Keep in mind that during this time I am completely unaware of what is to come, and am fully aware of how strange this border is. Ideas are certainly manifesting, though, as, being the naive idiot I am, I had made it known to my colleagues and thus the supervisors who overheard that I made some great discoveries in cryptocurrency.

A few days pass, and I return to work from my holiday time. I work for the government. On my first day back, I come to a full realization that smart contracts are essentially scams. Upon this realization I feel extreme danger for myself and rush back to the work station to tell my night supervisor about this realization. Essentially sprinting, I arrive at his desk saying "cryptocurrency is a scam!", and he says "oh I know". I then say
"do you like math?" and he responds "love it". His countenance changes to a visually obvious display of interest, for asking that question meant I was potentially about to share the solutions with him.

For reasons pertaining to discomfort for sharing such information with you, I will avoid explaining what lead up to the point of having what I will call a "special interaction". So let's fast forward with the understanding that I am aware of a "special interaction" (by which he was absolutely shocked) between my night supervisor and me, the kind that only superstitious or ghost hunters would believe.

Much of the night was spent talking about theoretical stuff, especially things pertaining to this strange form of communication. At one point he asks if I feel emotion, and to his surprise I answer I do, because he had previously thought that I was like him. It doesn't take too long to stir the idea of sharing my solutions with him. Consider the following the first instance of strange activity. Between us talking to each other is the entrance door and everyone winding down for the day doing stuff that they aren't getting paid for for the next day before leaving. I see everyone walk past me at the same time BEFORE he says "everyone is leaving". If they began walking past us after he said that, you would have every right to say that my brain imagined it happening. Some questions you need to ask yourself are the following: what are the chances of everyone (about 15-20 people) leaving at exactly the same time? How the hell did he do that? So now we're alone and we head to the lunch room. I have pen and paper on hand ready to explain to him, but I insist that I can't proceed with this because of how dangerous it is.

He urges me to proceed by taking advantage of one of my greatest weaknesses: ASMR-inducing shovelling. The sound of people shovelling snow using a plastic shovel against concrete causes an absolute brain orgasm in my head for reasons I can't explain. From nowhere he says "do you hear that? someone is shovelling", and before I knew it, in the darkness of 6-7 pm, a shoveler comes within sight of the fully windowed lunch room. This is by no means proof of anything, I just found the timely nature of his arrival to be somewhat odd, as you'll come to notice the numerous coincidences, perfect timings and things that were said that simply cannot be attributed to a schizophrenic mind. These things were real and the people in power have learned to take advantage of it. In the end I refused to divulge the mathematical solutions.

To summarize how a certain event went during the period where we established a special connection, let me say that I was able to visualize an image in my head and he would respond accordingly. This next strange event still gives me the shivers, one year later. We continue talking in that same space between the entrance door and where everyone works, away from cameras, and there comes a point where there's a brief pause in the conversation. For whatever reason there is this animation of these little dots or sperm-cell-like small things moving about a region of circular boundaries very quickly in my head. I have no idea what they were or why they were there; they were completely beyond my own control. My night supervisor responds to this by drawing out dots with his fingers close together in different points rapidly, perfectly demonstrating that he knows what is on my mind amid the quietness of the work station without any other influence or reason for doing so. There is another pause in the conversation shortly after, and I return the hand motion because they are still there.

Later on, I ask him "so because I am aware of this special form of communication, does this mean I have to die?" and his response is "only if you lie". Remember, none of what I am saying is made up. This actually happened. Originally, I had no idea what "only if you lie" meant, so I agreed that I wouldn't.

The number of following days leading up to my admission to a psych ward total about 7. One of the first noticeable changes during this time was that everyone that I looked at quickly stared at me before turning their head away. Literally everyone. Everyone that wasn't facing me turned their head sharply to make the stare. This was particularly worrisome because I don't like being watched. This sounds awfully like schizophrenia, even I agree, however, given what I had experienced so far which is irrefutably true (i.e having someone lead the way and provide the experience to me, who was obviously there and not a figment of my imagination), it does not surprise to me to think that somehow those in power have the ability to do this to the mind. I cannot say for certain, so let's leave this one as a mystery.

Because everyone is staring at me I have intense anxiety. To spare you from reading all the details of everything that happened, let's fast forward a few days. I'm talking to my friend via Google Hangouts explaining how weird my life is getting. And he ends up calling the police on my behalf because he was "worried for me". This is the last thing I wanted because I don't know what is on those in power's minds, so I panicked and ran at 1 in the morning to the nearest Tim Hortons. I then asked the cashier if I could use their phone to dial the same number and reroute the police to the Tim Horton's building rather than my home.

After doing so, with nobody around to see it (of course), I saw the large TV screen in Tim Horton's that usually reads tips, motivations, and astrological readings, read the following: "teenage boy dies for lying to the police in global conspiracy". At first, I didn't understand what that meant. Why does someone who lie deserve death? Why do I have to tell the truth? Most interestingly, I didn't at the time make the connection that this is exactly what my night supervisor said to me. That being if I lied, I would die. It took me about a week later to realize this. Furthermore, if I had seen an orange border surrounding my computer screen, there should be no surprise that this is happening elsewhere.

I sprint home to see my friend is still connected to the video chat with me while I was gone. I start panicking further, and then I get the knock on the door. I suspect this is just what they wanted: the police take me to a crisis centre where they take your information, and ask you questions. One question was "have you ever been admitted to a hospital before?" to which I answered yes for when I couldn't sleep for 5 days straight, and would not have been able to get out of that rut without medication. I didn't think of that question as dangerous at all but after answering that, I saw her give an evil smile, in the same way a schizophrenic would see. But I had no idea why that smile happened.

Fast forward a few days, I am playing my game online with my friends. The game involves a page lobby which collects players for a round of the game and a button after the game is over that returns you to the lobby to collect more players. This particular day, however, is different because the pages are loading a /lot/ quicker, and people are entering the room much quicker than usual. The chat is different too because everyone is responding with perfect punctuation, which is unusual for the casual conversation between us. Not only that, but things people were saying were along the lines of "Always number one...", "Whatever you say, JB.". Just total attitude. And then there came a point where I said "If this shit continues in my life indefinitely I'm just going to kill myself." and the response was something like "Well, you're going to die soon of sleep deprivation [a reference to what I had made known in the crisis centre], it's not like anyone is going to miss you." Remember, the screen I am reading for this is vivid in colour and the text is as clear as crystal. This text was actually there. I forgot to screencap the event because I was so captivated by what they were saying (of course).

Fast forward to a day or two later at work. I'm extremely exhausted, frustrated, and on the verge of exploding. I tell my supervisor "If this continues, I will have to consider taking matters into my own hands and kill myself". The superintendent down the hall and around the corner somehow heard this (this happens frequently later on with a different superintendent that fills her place as well at /just/ the right times. Very bizarre behaviour.) and immediately came to respond and says this matter is in her hands now. She calls the police. Lessoned learned: never openly admit you are or will be suicidal. The police then arrest me and put me into the psych ward.

I'm introduced to the psych ward and am wheeled into my unit, and I can't sleep that night because every single time I start dozing off, the nurses make some loud noise like binder opens or closes that shocks me awake from the hygnagogic state of sleep (is this the 'sleep deprivation' that they were talking about? If you can't sleep, you can't leave the psych ward). I spend the entire night at the nurses desk, trying to reason with the nurses away from perpetrating the sleep deprivation. I eventually say "I don't know who I'm talking to, or how you're doing it, but whatever it is you're doing, you are admirable. You just don't give a shit." and they respond "we think you're admirable, too."

Fast forward to the morning. I would like to introduce you to someone named Kean, because he is the person of interest throughout my entire experience at the psych ward. I'm seated down thinking my death will be in this psych ward, asking Kean what I did wrong or what I did to deserve this. His response didn't seem to pertain to the question at hand, but more-so an exhibition of what he knew about me that would surprise me. His response was "well, you playing your game is like you playing sports". What is surprising about this that I cannot remember the last time I have spoken about my personal condemnation of sports. Was it at work? I think it might have been. The true surprise, however, was the brief acknowledgement of how accurate his statement is, to which my heart responded by "jumping" out from itself as a shock.

Kean was simultaneously walking around the nurse's desk away from me, and turned his head slightly towards me and said "Ah! Now you get it!". Question: How the hell did he feel what I felt? Does he have access to my heart monitor or something? Also, how the hell did he know I condemned sports? The game that I play wasn't a surprise because I was playing it on the whiteboard next to the nurse's desk all night, so somehow he must've overheard or seen it, right? Right? RIGHT?! (Much later on, when I'm out of the psych ward, I talk to him over the phone and ask if he remembers when I met him and when he said that me playing my game is like me playing sports and how he knew that, he agreed that it was strange and simply said "it was God")

Fast forward some time later. There is a camera in the centre overlooking all the units. One day I am just exhausted by everything and decide to "hide away" in my unit's closet space that is away from the camera and people in general. It's very small but enough to stand in. Later that day, Kean walks up from behind me and points to the bathroom door we were passing and says "you can't hide behind that door"

His countenance and voice slightly changes when he has one of these moments, almost as though someone or something has completely taken over his body, whoever they are. I remember one instance where he said "look into my eyes and tell me I am better.". I did so and reminded "him" that it is because of people like "him" that we as a society have gotten up to this point. I also remember another instance where he asked me "why did you say you feel no emotion?" (I may have once said this as a defence mechanism to the night supervisor) to which I responded "because having emotion is a weakness". Again, a simple case of "how did you know this?" and more importantly "why don't you already have the answer to this?" Maybe they can't feel the emotion that accompanies your thoughts. Isn't that beautiful? Another question he asked in those obscure moments is "How do you sleep?", given what I know and have been through yet have been only taking 25mgs of quetiapine and 2mgs of risperidone: absolutely minute doses. and yet able to sleep soundly.

Now I'm going to start putting him to the test. One day about four of us are sitting on a couch watching TV. I'm on one end, he's on the other. Out of nowhere I decide to start thinking about something random but significant, in this case it happened to be the act of sex. I expected his response to be verbal, so I wasn't looking over towards him, but shortly after animating the act of sex in my mind, I did see in my peripheral vision a gesture which was stopped too soon for me to see what it was. I asked what he just did, and proceeded to raise his hand, with index finger and thumb forming a circle, and the index finger of the other hand through it to represent penetration. I am not making this up. This happened. Whether you choose to believe this or not is in your hands but I insist it was not a figment of my imagination. It was real.