When I was in the Navy, I was an electronics technician of sorts, a Cryptologic Technician (Maintenance), Second Class. A CTM2. It was a good place to be. I installed and maintained cryptographic equipment and its related transmitters and receivers. I had an extremely high security clearance. ...Which meant that I rarely had to mop anything...you see...
I scored very highly on the military entrance exam. I went somewhere to take a test to qualify for the nuclear program, which was the most rigorous and prestigious of the "ratings," or job specialties.
I was 19. It was 1986.
I was hammered for the test at 8am and I failed by two points.
That was fine, as I went into a field that was probably way better.
I spent eighteen months in Pensacola attending the various crypto schools. We'd learn how to fix things, and how to handle keying material, how to identify spies and foreign agents, some moral training, The Rights and Responsiblities of a sailor... It was a good education. I did nothing for eight hours a day, six days a week but go to school on base. I loved it.
I'd go to the beach on the weekend with the other guys and we'd get crunk and we'd all pretend we were straight and we'd pick up girls...or something...
There's...at least at that time, anyway...there was a lot of queers in the Navy. Just so you know.
But anyhow, during my stay in Pensacola --I now understand-- I was selected for programming. This process involves methods that are not pleasant.
Over the years after my discharge in 1992, something happened. Something reprogrammed me.
I was to be a programmed killer. But now my target is my monstrous makers.
