Reconnaissance

#1957 here . . . I know I mentioned geography for a new post, but I'm still working on that. It is not easy--or safe for my person--to travel all of the island, looking, asking questions, taking photos. I must be discreet.

I do not own my own car or truck or motorcycle or scooter or even a bicycle. I do travel by Transport Vehicle, which is like a bus but smaller. It is too far to walk, too cold to walk. If Spring ever reaches Soybean Island, perhaps I can do better. Until then I do not want to cast suspicion upon my person. But I will tell you that I'm trying to put a map together of what I know. I am on reconnaissance.

Yes, I lived here before and thought that I was free man. But back then I had a steady job. I worked regular hours, many hours, and was too busy to realize what was what . . . Anyway, now I have no true job. Now I have too much time and wonder if being too busy to understand what was what would not be a blessing.

I realize that my photos--my images--are bland. Boring. Mundane. There is a reason for that at this time. The Apparatus is obsessed with images. They do not care much about words and rarely look at them. many inhabitants of Soybean Island do not read and perhaps cannot read. Who knows? That's not to say they are stupid people. They are only ignorant in the sense that they think they live in a democratic society, that they think they can come and go as they please. Very few Soybean Islanders travel and when they do travel, believe me, The Apparatus is watching. They are looking. They are recording images. But they are not reading.

I can tell you that there are three towns on the island, the biggest of which is Soybean Island City. I live there. The capital though is Cornana--many government people live there (though the headquarters for The Apparatus--I'm convinced--is in Soybean Island City; someday I hope to provide a photo, if I dare be so daring). South is a small town where many of the Elite live: Ste Abattoir de Chevres Pres de la Mer. Yes, you read that right. There is also a university here--the University of Soybean Island--which is like a town in itself. Their mascot is a snail--but more on that at some other time. But north there is, rumor has it, a settlement named Ranville. Actually, Stalag Ranville. This I will investigate when possible, if possible. I know of no Transport Vehicles with routes to Stalag Ranville.

So, that's a lot of words for today. I will leave you with yet another pointless photo:

And there you have it . . .

And, until next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island

Language

#1957 (Number One Nine Five Seven, as The Apparatus calls me, perhaps I should say) reporting once again. It is still a frigid world where I am. I heard, through a broadcast by the state run Island Media, that it has been a hard winter in my home country but that a warm spell has finally descended upon some of the worst hit spots. No such luck here:

I still struggle with my "job" as An Object of Curiosity. One way I'm trying to achieve this, and to appeal to The Apparatus, is to make and publish photos such as this one:

I have titled this:

                                                                     SNOWBANK


Yes. Silly isn't it. Yet I think this is what will please the populace of Soybean Island. Forgive me. But this also raises the subject of language.

You see, the Official Language of Soybean Island is English. Other languages can be heard here. French, German, what I think is Portguese. certainly Spanish is not that unusual. But there are also a number of Asian languages, what I am told is mainly Korean and different dialects of Chinese. I am not knowledgable enough to ascertain which is which and what is what.

I do understand that a lot of these people who do not speak English, or speak only some, are fellow rendition prisoners. But alas, even if we could communicate fully, it would be too dangerous to do so. I will try to show some signage of different languages in coming posts--that is, if this blog is not discovered and I am sent off to a true gulag. My understanding--as I may have mentioned before--is that a prison/jail/detention center/gulag exists north of Soybean Island City. This is a rumor, yet one that sounds quite true; a rumor no doubt put out by The Apparatus in order to make people such as myself think twice about talking, commingling and asking the wrong questions. Fear is a great pacifier . . . I realize I should discuss the geography of Soybean Island, at least what I understand of it. But that could be very dangerous--I have never seen a map of this place and, I know, you cannot find it on any conventional atlas. That will have to wait. Instead, I will leave you with a few more photos of the outre banks of the island.

Enough. I am sorry I cannot reveal more. I am here and I wait for Spring and--someday--my eventual escape. So . . .
Until next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island

Snow

It's me, #1957 . . . You can refer to me how you like, Nineteen Fifty-Seven or One Thousand Nine Hundred Fifty-Seven or  One Nine Five Seven. I don't call myself any of those, yet I cannot reveal my real name. I only refer to myself in writing as #1957, and that's because it is the name/number assigned to me by The Apparatus.

It remains a cold and snowy winter. Snow falls atop snow that refuses to melt, along with a clean shimmer of ice beneath it all. I slipped and fell on my walk today--a walk I am required to take (as best i can interpret) as part of my job as And Object of Curiosity. A job given to me by The Apparatus . . . When I first came to Soybean Island I had a room--a rather pension-like room in a house. There were others living there and I do not know if they too were prisoners as we were not allowed to speak unless spoken to. There was no communal room, no dinners together. After a few months there and, no doubt, because I obeyed the rules, I was given a somewhat shabby apartment in a somewhat no-so-shabby part of town, that is, in Soybean Island City. And then the job, and then a meager stipend on which to live upon. So, I walk most places, though often take Transport Vehicles. I also bought a small camera (bought, in part, by resisting non-essential purchases and by cooking my own frugal and simple meals):

And yes, I have a computer, an old one that I purchased at a thrift shop.

It is not especially sunny today--sunlight, fresh air, watching small birds are examples of the few and free things I can take pleasure in here on Soybean Island. But here is a view from my window:

I'm not sure what else to say. It is dangerous for me to do this much. As this blog progresses I will attempt to reveal more about my situation, about the nation of Soybean Island, it's towns and agriculture, its institutions and of course, about The Apparatus that rules all things here. Though I am not supposed to go to the airport, I did take a photo near it because this is where I first arrived after my capture and, because, I believe this is where I will have to make my eventual escape. I suppose there may be boats, somewhere (you must be part of the Elite to visit the coast), but this is an isolated island, either in the far northern hemisphere or the deep southern.

Yes, there is more air than port in the picture, but that is what it is.

Okay--I'll post a pic from the inside, though it frightens me to do so:

I can reveal no more . . .

I think that, for now, this is enough. I will try to write more often. So, until then:

Goodbye from Soybean Island

An Object of Curiosity

     I have been here for a year now. It is winter. A bitter cold, snow and frozen-rain winter. I have heard from The Apparatus that I am to make myself an object of curiosity in the community. That is my job description, in total. But if I want to retain what small freedoms I have, I must fulfill it.

I have lived on Soybean Island once before. At that time, I thought it was voluntary. When I discovered I was not a free man, I made my escape. I was gone for sixteen years, but, they found me. Now I am back and under no illusions. There are many others like me here, but we cannot communicate with each other, cannot gather together over coffee or cocktails. We must be careful. I am known only as #1957.

This is a secret diary of my incarceration, on or in or within this island nation. Legally, I am a citizen of the United States of America. I have to be careful how much I write, what it is I post, lest The Apparatus come after me. So for now, I can only promise that there will be more. When I am able to post, when They are not looking, I will attempt to do so. I will also include photos, if possible.

This is a view of the south coast of Soybean Island, near the airport, taken surreptitiously from a Transport Vehicle.

But I must be very careful what I reveal . . .

So, until then:

Goodbye from Soybean Island