Th3 Drummer Ab1de5

October 6th, 2011

I decided I’m not going back. Harry’s just gonna have to deal with that.

Come and get me, Harry!

Somewhere out in the mass of lives and confusion, Ricky has my phone. He’s “winston” now. I figure, if I’m not gonna spend my time messing with Harry, someone should. Ricky knows how to stay off the grid, and as long as they only text each other, Harry might think I’m still running around fighting him. If he goes back to smoking as much pot as he used to, he might never figure it out, but it doesn’t matter. Until then, Harry can blame me for every random thing that goes wrong, and I don’t have to do a thing.

In honor of the Dude, here’s a line from Fight Club. “When the fight was over, nothing was solved, but nothing mattered.”

About a week ago, I was heading out to play my drums, and I saw people camping on a street downtown, as upset about “the system” as I am. Now we’re camping out and protesting. They’re organizing against corporate greed. I don’t think greed is quite Harry’s problem, but it’s definitely part of that market he’s so interested in.

These other people don’t know about the surveillance technology yet that guys like Harry are working on, but I can wait. I can still fight. I can oppose the spread of technology, and I don’t have to be alone anymore.

Alli is with someone else who makes her happy. Women in the company used me for sex and access to secrets. I guess I did the same to them, but I’m ready for something real. I hope I find it.

Anyone can join us out here. There are some dicks like Harry that want to run things. I guess those show up in every group, but nobody listens to them. The people out here value their freedom as much as I do.

Sometimes I drink, but I have to be careful. My injuries may never completely heal. Sometimes we play music. Sometimes I even slip in one of the old Effective Disorder songs. I want to form a new band, even though I’m never gonna find another Casimir, that magical force who’ll never give up. We’d just have to keep each other going.

I called Roger the other night from a pay phone in the BART station, checking in about the company.

He seemed happy to hear my voice. “Hi, Oscar.”

“What’s going on over there?”

“Everything is different. Someone called Harry took over, and he’s watching everyone through the computers. Creepy, right?”

We all monitored people from dispatch, but somehow this was different. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m still driving, but I’m the last one. Harry asked me to stick around until you came back.”

“I’m not coming back.”

“Oh, then I guess I’ll stay. This is still better than a serious job. driving helps clear my head.”


The joy went out of his voice. “Harry’s a bad boss.”

“I know, but I feel better having someone I trust there keeping an eye on him for me.”

“I never expected I would end up a chauffeur.”

“Hey, man. That’s life.” I didn’t know what else to say. Sounds like things really are different over there.

I regret leaving all those people behind. I thought I could be a coyote, smuggling them across the border to a new home, but they never really wanted to go. I can’t help them if they don’t want to help themselves.

Looking back, I see how I could have survived on my own, but if I had never taken Harry’s job offer, I wouldn’t know about the system. This way, I understand enough to know where it can’t see me.

Harry’s system is designed to infiltrate stuff, but I feel safe out here. The systems we have aren’t really compatible with his.

Are we being watched? Definitely. We live our lives in public. That’s just how things are now. I can try to spread the skills I’ve learned, teach these people how to avoid showing up on the grid, even if we can never get completely off it.

The cops came by last night and took all our tents. That’s nothing. We’ll get more and find some other place to camp out. We’re not doing anything illegal. We’re exercising our freedom of assembly, and we can keep it going, one day at a time.

My life took on a strange cycle, unmasking one boss to find out there was another one behind them. I’ve seen enough to assume everyone is accountable to somebody in some way. I figure there’s dudes everywhere, thinking they’re the center of the universe and acting like their own shit is so damn important. I was paranoid for so long, but I’m over it. I’m breaking the cycle.

The city is full of different philosophies of ways to make it through the day, so many different kinds of human beings. I think that’s great. The programs and the programmers that work for them want to make us simple, so they can calculate things, but every person is their own unique puzzle of fears and desires that the programs could never fully understand. We have to keep them guessing, being unpredictable. We have to keep acting like people, not programs.

The Dude built a place for that kind of control by intimidating people, but he was presenting himself as something he wasn’t. I can do that. When I’m bored at night, I write down what I think would happen if I went back, a bunch of bullshit, and it makes me even more glad to be out.

I’m gonna have to stop writing soon. Alli’s making copies of this whole thing, giving them out to artists and punks to hold on to. I want more people to have my notes. Make your own copies. Learn from my example, but think for yourself.

I don’t think Harry and his system will ever really be dangerous, but I’ve been wrong about things before, wrong in so many ways.

If Harry or the system get out of control, they could easily take me out, but there’s still enough secrets in this little diary of mine to fuck up the secrecy of whatever operation they might have left, so we’re telling people to hold on to these pages, just in case things go wrong. Read it if they get me. Tell people what’s out there. They’ll never be able to stop all of us.

Editor’s Note:

As I explained in the prologue, I acquired one of those copies and used it to fill in gaps of my records. Most of this, I knew about while it was happening, but Winston here has a unique perspective.

The system is still going, of course, and you can’t keep something like that secret forever. People should know that we didn’t mean anything wrong. Our story deserves to be heard. We have nothing to hide, so I put together this online version.

If anything should happen to poor Winston, let this be a record that we never really meant any harm to him, that he has no secrets we feel the need to keep. Now people can read how the system came to be, that we weren’t the bad guys.

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