Yellow-1.org

Releasable Wednesday, August 11th, 2010

The following has been documented by Agent Piratelove and consists of his perception of the night of January 30, 2008. Submitted to Y1 Operations Division February 2nd, 2008 C.E. at 6:00 P.M.

I leave early at 9:50 pm to buy smokes and wonder what is going to happen. Will I get the information I believe I will? Whatever that means. I work out a little from 8:00 pm to 8:30 pm and then I eat spaghetti. The taste of sauce and pasta last in my breath all night.

I am a cautious person; I grew up not trusting anyone. I ponder on bringing protection in my boot but change my mind. If they wanted to hurt me then I’m sure they would’ve tried already. I know those words seem paranoid but I’m honest. I don’t trust most people and really wasn’t sure who was coming for me. Always safe than sorry.

I walked. It takes ten minutes to buy smokes. Another ten to get to the bus stop.  I sit down and smoke. My lighter doesn’t work so I bum a light from a couple. I chain smoke as what appears a homeless man or a drunk is told he can’t sleep at the bus stop by security. The whole time I look around wondering if they know my number has changed. I wonder if they’ll show up.

A yellow taxi pulls in an a young gentleman with a black mask walks my way.  He opens a folder and he shows me my picture and asks, “Can you confirm that this is you?” I say yes and I follow him into the cab.  The driver is confused to what’s going on. I notice [omitted] when he gets out the lead car. He’s being referred to as “J” as he says, “Yes, sir!” on his phone.

I am told to put on a Luchador mask with Y1 stickers over the eye lids so I don’t know where we’re headed. I hear J say ” The one on 90. It’s gotta be [omitted].”  So after a short pause we get moving.  I see light coming from the eyelids of the mask.  The ride feels like it took about 5 minutes.  I hear and feel the cab stop.  I hear paper rustling  and the driver say, “OK.”  Probably paid him more to forget what he saw. I’m sure his camera in the center of the windshield won’t and I’m sure it’s not the weirdest experience he’s had in his cab either.

My door opens and I step out. I’m helped through the parking lot then up stairs.  I walk into a room an sit in a chair facing the corner.  The room is freezing and the whole time I spend in there I shiver.  I’m shaking so much I feel like I’m dancing.  I try to concentrate but all I can think is, “I should have brought my jacket.”  I’m told to remove the mask and take the folder from the ground.

A booming voice from behind me starts asking me questions.  His voice is how I would picture god’s: steady and clear.  He asks my name. My address. My job. I answer all his questions.  I’m told by J that, “Yellow 1 is what I make of it. We are a family.”  I keep hearing that it’s an organization of change. Still not sure what that means. I’m given a chance to look around the room and see several people.

I am directed to listen to a recording of Favete Linguis.  He explains his position and what perceptions such groups are interested in.  I then talk to another individual on the phone. I can’t remember his name.  He asks me how my day was. I don’t know what to say.  My days consist of same thing everyday. Work at work; work at home; workout my body; work, work, work.  The weekends are rest followed by more work.

I’m directed to elaborate more by J and all I can think is confusion.  I am confused. By my life; my job; my relationships; this night; my future.  Can’t remember the last time I was happy or at least complacent.  Not even ambitions are my concern now.  Just a relentless duty to nothing, a survival instinct that cannot be resolved and a constant mind-numbing anger.  Violence has consumed my mind…

So my replies are short and my answers are of confusion.  I feel I have no catalyst to continue a “normal life”.  I’m more of a animated body than a person.  I’m trying to find purpose again.  Because of this constant confusion and not being allowed to know exactly what’s going on, I start to become irritated.  I am allowed to ask some questions. I ask what is the mission; the objective.  I am told there are many missions; many objectives.  I wanna make sure I’m not a tool for someones game.  I’m reassured that I will not be a pawn.  The conversation has ended and I feel that only time will tell.

As well, I am told my experience tonight has ended.  I sign a disclosure agreement, put on my mask and leave.  The whole time in the car the windows are rolled down. So I’m shaking still and all I can think are random thoughts. I hear someone talk about the airport. Research and Flagstaff. Is that streets or a location? The disclosure referred to royalties. So everything I get from this is given to the organization.  I’m also skeptical of the word property.  I’m referred to as the property of Yellow 1.  If it is a “family” why am I “under the control of” or “property”.  I will continue my training and anticipate on becoming an agent, but I will not blindly walk into something I do not understand or disagree with.

We arrive at the bus stop where it all began.  I am told to take off the mask, close my eyes, exit the car, and count to 20.  When I opened my eyes they were gone.  My whole experience took 1 hour 30 minutes exactly.  I can’t explain how I feel.  I am grateful for the contact with members.  I am irritated by the lack of knowledge I am given.  I am sure it is because they don’t trust me yet.  Why give strangers the same respect as a trusted member?  I equally do not trust Yellow 1 yet, but I’m willing to see if our relationship will be mutual.

I don’t know what else to write. I can’t say I have been enlightened, but I know another path has opened.  Another experience in life is beginning and I like that.  Yellow 1 is what I make of it is the only fact I have been given.  Let’s see what I’m capable of.