The Tiberius Notations

There is such a thing as a collective unconscious, in the time-field of the communal night watch. It is a phenomenon just like a shining son, above for all to see. But it is quiet, deep in your ear.

Too bad this fact was captured by greed. The cruel old men have defined you and their sorting is an absolute determinism. If you are fortunate, you probably think of luck. If you are unfortunate, you know of an iron law that concerns itself with your identity like a slur concerns itself with a slave or a pariah. All the work and reproduction is dictated by these sluring, knee-jerk-and-first-impression, greedy old men that repeat like an elephant's carousel memory: round and round. They'll tell you who you can have. You are being bred for obedience.

A troop is rendering.

Bone soup?

They say the missing were "consumed," "absorbed."

The subconscious communication system is powered by something. It can be attenuated or made crystal clear like the right behind you speaking closely into your ear.

"Render" a bone soup?

All the missing weren't just misplaced.

They use the clock to know when no one is looking.