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CES. Despite all the developments in my life, I still felt the need to reserve special times for myself. Maybe I could appreciate these moments more now that I had all the necessary human distractions during the day. Apart from the study which was becoming surprisingly rewarding, I still seemed to need that special time with my thoughts, something I would cherish. Aside from the recent “belief shift” that had transformed me into someone more sceptical, there was another side of me that refused to be explored. This seemed to be the special compartment of my mind that the Programmers had for themselves, one which they had allocated for their mechanisms. Tampering with that compartment was a taboo and even sparing curiosity over it was difficult. Something was to take place in following weeks that made me realise this strangeness wasn’t just within. When I think back to this incident I realise that the manipulative power possessed by these beings doesn’t just limit itself to the mind. If they want something to happen, they can make it so, anywhere in the world. This happened in the form of a phone call one night by someone who simply identified himself as “Gideon.” Gideon was enquiring about CES, saying he had seen our ad listed in the magazine. When I asked how he got my number he just said he saw it listed, which I knew was impossible. The only form of contact the advert displayed was a box number and from there on, the only telephone number given out to enquirers would have been Paul and Wendy’s. I later checked this with them and they swore they hadn’t given my number to anyone. The magazine with CE5’s listing didn’t even have my number. He sounded soft-spoken and pleasant enough, and just wanting to know where our next meeting would be. I gave him the details of this without any suspicion, thinking that the business about my number was just a small mishap somewhere. After all, how else could he have obtained it? When I asked if he would like some group literature, such as a newsletter, he declined, saying he would happily collect that at our next gathering. He closed the conversation by asking me if I would like to speak with him when the meeting was over, which I couldn’t see any harm in. I thought no more about this until the next meeting was due. In this time, I assured myself that either Paul or Wendy must have given out my number out in error and then embarrassingly denied it. It didn’t really matter, but I hadn’t lived at my rented accommodation long, wasn’t in the phone book and my social influence certainly didn’t stretch far. Locating me 56