If you’ve already immersed yourself in The Death Clerk’s Gifts, The Neighborhood of Eternal Afternoons, The Death Clerk’s Reach, and The Networks New Pawn then discover the deeper patterns that unfold across these tales as the threads of connection grow ever clearer.
If you’d like to listen, simply press play. Otherwise, feel free to read the story below.
A Story Seed Studios Presentation by the PVT Group
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The hospital records room had grown dimmer as evening approached, casting long shadows across the scattered files they’d spent hours examining. Ms. Chen’s daughter rubbed her tired eyes. At the same time, the rightful owner stared at yet another document with a missing signature, another timestamp contradicting their timeline, another piece of evidence that slipped like water through their fingers.
“It’s like they knew we were coming,” the rightful owner said, her voice hollow with exhaustion. “Every trail leads to nothing. Every document vanishes. Every official suddenly can’t remember conversations we know happened.” She pushed away from the table, the weight of Margaret’s systematic corruption pressing down like a physical force.
When they left the records room, the rightful owner checked her phone and frowned. “My battery’s nearly dead again. For the third time this week, it’s drained for no reason.” Ms. Chen’s daughter nodded grimly. “Mine too. And did you notice? Our searches get redirected whenever we access certain files, and our emails about specific documents never arrive.”
They walked in silence for several blocks before the rightful owner spoke again. “Last night at Pine Valley Court, I found a small device in my shower head. And the light fixtures have been replaced. The new ones have tiny cameras.”
Ms. Chen’s daughter wasn’t surprised. “The same network that can manipulate property records and death certificates has access to surveillance technology. Every word we’ve spoken there has been monitored. Every plan we’ve made has been heard.”
She led them to a nearby hardware store. Inside, she purchased two Faraday bags and immediately slipped their phones inside. “These block signals. Your phone can’t be used to track us or record conversations while it’s in here.”
Next, they visited an electronics shop where she bought a signal detector. Outside, she explained, “Margaret’s network uses more than just legal manipulation. They deploy technology originally designed for prisons and high-security facilities – devices that turn every electronic item into potential surveillance: smart TVs, digital assistants, even refrigerators with WiFi capability.”
“I found six different devices in my unit at Pine Valley Court,” she continued. “Three cameras, two microphones, and something attached to my router that redirected all my internet searches through their filters. It’s why they’ve been one step ahead every time we’ve made progress.”
“I thought I was going crazy,” the rightful owner admitted. “Things moved when I wasn’t home. My computer showed logins from addresses I’d never visited.”
“You weren’t crazy,” Ms. Chen’s daughter assured her. “It’s part of their strategy – making you doubt your perception while they gather information about every move you make.”
They walked to a small diner with no WiFi and old-fashioned cash registers. After choosing a booth far from any speakers or electrical outlets, Ms. Chen’s daughter pulled out a small, worn book.
“My mother faced something similar,” she said quietly. “Not with property, but with medical records. Things that disappeared. Treatments that were never documented. Bills for procedures that were never performed. She discovered her home had been fitted with similar surveillance.”
“What did she do?”
Ms. Chen’s daughter held up the Bible, its pages dog-eared and marked with colorful tabs. “First, she found somewhere safe – somewhere off their radar where she could think clearly. Then she turned to the wisdom that existed long before digital surveillance, wisdom that keyloggers or backdoor exploits couldn’t corrupt.”
The rightful owner looked skeptical. “I’m not particularly religious.”
Ms. Chen’s daughter replied, “Neither was my mother at first, even after her near-death experience, as she saw and followed many of God’s ways.” The network we’re fighting uses isolation as a weapon. It separates you from support and makes you feel alone in your perception. My mother found something here that connected her to thousands of years of resistance against corruption and oppression.
The rightful owner considered this. “I can’t go back to Pine Valley Court. Not now that I know.”
“You shouldn’t. At least not yet.” Ms. Chen’s daughter explained how her mother had rented a small cabin outside the cell tower range – a place with no smart devices, WiFi, or digital footprint. “I still have access to it. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s genuinely safe.”
The cabin became their sanctuary. They could finally speak freely with signal jammers at the perimeter and regular electronic sweeps. As they sorted through evidence, Ms. Chen’s daughter gradually introduced the wisdom in her mother’s Bible. What began as a practical necessity – finding a surveillance-free space – evolved into deeper explorations of truth and resilience in the face of systematic corruption.
It was here, beyond the reach of digital ears and eyes, that their conversations about Matthew’s Gospel began. Away from keyloggers and hidden microphones, they could explore questions of justice, truth, and spiritual foundation without Margaret’s network analyzing their words.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, insects, or cats, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
