The Otherness - Tim Watts-pages

Page 40 of 154

Page 40 of 154
The Otherness - Tim Watts-pages

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Although the sophistication of their technology appears to dwarf ours, I still feel there is fallibility somewhere in the system. I have noticed that whatever they do, it is like a detailed master-plan with very little back up for the unexpected. Stringent calculations and dead reckoning can become quite vulnerable when exposed to spontaneity. The Programmers, not unlike the psychology of our own computer programmers do not like spontaneity. Should you do anything spur of the moment or out of the ordinary without any preconception whatsoever, they would be thrown. Looking back, had I glimpsed this light in the sky, deliberately ignored it and then spun round to view them head on, I would probably have caught them in their process. It seemed that every tendency I had might have been somehow registered with them so that every move becomes predictable. Unfortunately I had no awareness of this flaw at the time. They obviously make mistakes. This recent leakage of memories was probably caused by spontaneity somewhere and this combined with my stubborn will to remember must have thrown them considerably. I had also sensed their despair over this. Once being plunged into this disarray another stage of the plan would take over. This period of my life was another phase of their master-plan, a phase that was about to end. What I was currently going through with the “night walks” was just part of an ongoing drill for something big about to happen. One particular evening during that autumn of 1994 I would take my very last night walk. Up until now it had been a regular excursion, at least 3 or 4 times a week. Perhaps the regularity of these visits would pave the way for the big evening in question so that the final journey would not appear too unusual. That “evening” soon came around. I never did recall the actual date but it was certainly an important event in the Programmer’s calendar. Everything about this evening was pre-arranged so that by sunset, I would just get the same compulsion to get up and walk to my nearest rural open space. Nothing would appear strange about this as I had been doing it regularly. Once again, the urge overcame the logic and even while I tried to rationalise, I was putting on my jacket to leave. It was one of those delightful crisp autumn evenings. I watched a deep orange sun set behind some trees thinking how wholesome everything looked. All around me was a pleasure to take in and that I suspect was intended, a type of acclimatisation with the new state of mind. It wasn’t hard 40 common espionage, voyeurism even.