Little Mapmaker… The clouds. Oh, clouds in the airstream. Some were dark, some light, many billowy, others tight. The girl studied them from within the airstream and from its outside the in. She studied each cloud assessing its nature, or antithetically an artificial construction which defined some of the clouds. As she witnessed them shift, it was the clouds that formed more permanent definition which were artificial. As she moved within and between them, she simultaneously looked down at the table. Around the table the players looked up at the clouds too, but never noticed the girl as her flashlight blinded them when they gazed in her direction. So she could watch them mechanizing certain plans for the kingdom which they thought were being secretly executed. The plans which they thought were only known to them, were all known by her in eventual time. As she floated between and betwixt the clouds, one in a while declining down to the river then up again weaving through train, she recorded the strings connecting the artificial clouds to the kingdom upon the table. As she recorded, she mapped. As she mapped, she re-recorded reconfiguring the strings to align with her chess match played and overlaid upon the precarious poker card kingdom.

The players around the table continued to balance cards of the kingdom. As they balanced on edge, they were careful not to blow it. As they stacked the cards high they stretched straight strings between the kingdom and artificial clouds. They tweaked the strings to strategically so the people inhabiting the soon to be dome-for-a-king would align with order properly. The straight strings carried currents connecting the clouds generating unconsciousness within the habitants. This unconsciousness made the people programmable. To the most microscopic scale within each body the conduction streaming through the strings from clouds to kingdom ground shifted the coiling DNA coding, forming an attempted fixed infrastructure between the habitants. As it did, the players planned precisely how they would use the program to determine the future erection election, tall tower and all.

They connected the poles of the earth, north and south, to the erection election poles. After all, the election would be used to build the tall tower erection. Around the world they strung the straight strings, assigning parallel pathways between the poles and the people. There would be one choice, and one choice only for those connected to the poker players’ invisible yet very real infrastructure. That one choice would indeed lead to a towering erection for the joker, and all the other players around the square table. They would collect bits and bites of the most private data in the most perverse way. They would accumulate a bank of data that would eventually become a bank to pay for the towering poker erection. The people in the kingdom upon the table would accept with little question, the privacy invasion, out of fear. They would pretend to not recognize the collateral damage of the systematic film overlay upon their freedom. You see, fear had already been injected into the people after two towering towers made of real mass and matter had already fallen like a house of cards.

So strategic dialog between fear and freedom continued, amongst the people not only in the united country, but in the whole wide world. The strategy was refined around the table, the kingdom of cards the model. ‘We’ll entrain them all right,’ proclaimed the king of the airwaves. ‘With all this data we will know when their sense of freedom is high, then we can inject fear with images, icons, and measured rulership’. The joker chimed in, ‘Does that mean they’ll look up to me?’. ‘Say yes,’ the sucker whispered to the cush. ‘Yah man, they’ll think you’re the king of the kingdom’. The cush whispered a return, ‘He’s such a fool, do you think they’ll realize he’s deranged?’. The sergeant smiled knowing himself the king of the airwaves. They laughed together as they tested their mapmaking skills, stretching orthogonal lines in the air as the girl from above now looked down upon her chess squares turning them into bows and ribbons in her natural airstream. Little did they know, as they strategized entrainment of the people they were being entrained on the train by the little mapmaker, in train car number seven.

As the stretched straight strings strategically stole and stored data from the people around the sphere, the players categorized it. They calculated and categorized cumulative data bits and bites from north pole to south. They coordinated efforts to mass manipulate the people, connecting the artificial clouds of information to the spiraling coiling data within the deoxyribonucleic acid within human bodies. The electromagnetic poles at each end of the earth were meshed together with an interwoven net managed and manipulated mainly by the sergeant. Earthly poles would become erection election poles, per the players devised planning. The invisible net then woven into the artificial clouds was then stretch stringed to the ground plane, where the people stood two feet to the ground. The electromagnetic energy from the poles then followed the mesh internet around the globe, then down to the ground and into the people, manipulating the electromagnetic locus within each body. This was the strategy of the poker players sitting around the square table, designed so they could traffic the people within the kingdom of cards. The girls within it were most vulnerable. The little girls were the chosen targets of the trafficking.

The singular map girl resonated above watching them, as they assumed they were above everyone in the kingdom. As they stacked the cards into the kingdom three dimensionally, she projected her own map overlay upon the table. The clouds were moving now, like the river below but also up and down. The plane was gone although the traffic in the artificial airstream still present. The little mapmaker tried to focus on the natural clouds, where her friends resided… those others who had been trafficked through the artificial airwaves of internet. She started stitching her own seed stitch of ribbons and bows as the natural clouds moved, as the earth turned ‘round as it moved around the sun. As the natural clouds moved, the strings connecting them to the telluric surface of the earth below moved too, bowing generating a threading within and between each other.

She moved with the strings bowing, hanging onto them tightly in the spooky sky. The girl moved through her airstream fabric with ease and grace. As she did she pushed and pulled the clouds along with her body dance while grasping the strings. And as the little maker of the map projecting to below, she was connected to the strings which connected the clouds to the earth below and events taking place within its surface. So she began to map the events taking shape below, moving in time, specifically as her chess match taking shape too. Her board of chess squares blending with the organic nature of happenings connected to the strings was turning from orthogonal corners and straight lines to a delightful organic map. It was the little girl’s map. It was a fabrication re-recording the story for all the girls who had become ghosts in the trafficking wake of the poker players.

If they could traffic the girls, they could traffic the boys. This was part of the plan to penetrate the people with electromagnetic vibes from the artificial clouds. The systematic programming would be specific in intention. The straight strings would keep each other separate enough; disconnection forming vulnerability making programming of the populations efficient and effective. The poker players designed the internet, clouds, and connective string this way by design. Once the programming was in place, propaganda could push and pull the populations of people. And if they would traffic the girls, they would traffic the boys. The male members of the populous would follow the wombs, by nature. The poker game could transform from the kingdom of cards in casino car seven, to the real people upon the ground plane across the countryside which the train swept when not stuck high on the bridge above the river water below. The poker players became anxious for the train to start moving.

The players perceived trafficking human beings as money in the pokerish pot. With the invisible electric airwaves in place, the players could plan with precise premeditation. They could puppeteer the election poles from north to south. They could also plan ahead in time, purchase parcels and land plots as they pushed and pulled the people toward them proliferating profitable purchase prices not in the past, but in the future. This was a particularly precise plan. Even more preposterous was the puppeteering of the people to property perpetually unobtainable to them, as the poker players already had strategized the most potent poker hand of all. They had played their trump card for presidency in tandem with the purchasing of plots of land with water. Water essential to life proliferation, they figured they were able to control not only the migratory trafficking of the people; they considered themselves entitled to determine the actual life and death of the people actually. The poker players were performing a coup de gras of populations, of sorts, by way of a system of invisible and ubiquitous slavery coordinated within the artificial clouds. They would connect virtual internet protocol addresses, to each ground address within the kingdom… so they thought. Yet, they were presumptuous. They presumed they could own all of nature above and below. Little did they know, they were enslaving themselves. The little mapmaker watched them execute their own execution from above, as she projected her fabric story precisely to the table below. She played the players, as the players played the people.

As she danced within and between her natural strings stitching in the spooky sky, she moved the chess players on her board overlaid on the table and card kingdom upon it. The 8x8 board of players was connected to her natural clouds. Her wish was to make them turn back time to before the people began being puppeteered by the poker players. She understood a percentage of her experience was perceptual, a projection of her and only her personal composition in particular. Yet the puppeting of the people below was real, too real to be exclusive to her imagination. So she connected king, queen, horse, pawns and all to her bowing strings, attached to her natural clouds in the spooky sky. Then she began to play her match. The spooky sky was hers. She was the mapmaker. And as the match moved along, her chess board of 64 square turned into an organic map deconstructing the king dome into a free dome. The players thought they’d devised a way to oversee everything and everyone below them. They figured all below them were subject to the objective royalty of the kingly dome aver which they resided.

Still the little mapmaker floated above them in the spooky sky. She was above, below, and around them. She was everywhere. And she decided the freedom of the subjective singular populous was the most important thing, not the object kingdom. As her own personal composition of 64 chemical codes sequences calibrated, she projected them as an overlay upon the kingdom of cards below. She played chess while they played poke her, one tall tower poking high in the imaginary sky of the kingdom above which she levitated in casino car number seven.

The casino expanded. The players entertained other games between poker hands. Black Jack was the game of choice in the British corner. In the Russian corner, they played roulette. In the Israeli corner they played the slots. Of course the poker table remained the center, the American kingdom rising high now with one tower, instead of two. Together, the casino games all comprised parts of special strategies, some behind closed doors and other in open air, for facilitating the erection election. From the clouds the straight strings were pulled, pushing and pulling the people below without their knowledge, to convey a manipulated election from north pole to south when in fact the joker wasn’t elected at all. The twelve mountains needed funding in order to appropriate the appropriate water. This funding would be back door defense spending from facilitated false strife from the border to the land of milk and honey. The joker wasn’t elected, and election manipulation was an idea used to perpetuate belief in elections actually. The fucking joker and his Aids, were hired… the internet coordination between the casino countries nothing more than a media effort to perpetuate the same myth.

~

She knew her list well. She began fabricating her author ship in the dark, by the light of her flashlight. One story at a time of all nine, she wrote. She typed without typecasting. She cast without typing. She mapped her way through her parasympathetic responses to memory and shifted through the sympathetic responses to fears presenting themselves within the belly of her author ship, as she fabricated its stories of ribbons and bows. Each story she wrote presented a new situation, a circumstance of sorts. So as she oriented herself as a situationist within the stories inside her digital paper, she did so too within her places found present and invisible… even within the air stream. This was her chess match. She placed the players within her board well before they even began to move, in real time. She lured each player across the board, without them even realizing so. She was the virtuoso of prey, indeed. They had taught her well, embedded memory of trauma a constant reminder within her coiling coding fabric. And as she began to author by the light of her flash light in the dark, she began shaping the archetypes… for her match.