Appendix B
Dear Dimitrius, immortal spirit emancipated from your body, thanks to Ron Hubbard,
It's about time I replied to your last letter. This is my first respite in 1981 (31 years after the book Dianetics was published, viz., "anno Dianetics"). Here are the facts I promised you. Lots of wins at Upper Level Scientology headquarters. We're making rapid strides. Many individuals who have purchased Ron Hubbard's consciousness-raising techniques are getting reads (FNs = floating needles) on a biofeedback indicator that they have passed these drills, or have even attained the ability to leave their bodies and return to them whenever they like. Ron's rehash of his old material, including his emergency treatment for fully-restored souls like yourself, (but who need help despite their superhuman abilities) has made the difference. I'm now taking an advanced training course, and it's the greatest ever -- even more mental orgasms than the course preceding it. I've been totally free from the negative influence of my subconscious mind since I got the favorable biofeedback signs on my answers to several simple questions put to me by a Scientology practitioner. Last night I left my body behind for three hours. Proselytizing Scientology is effortless when you're not bogged down by personal problems (PTPs = present-time problems) and physical limitations. We intend to take over the planet (Admin = Administration) as well as anything else we find out there on our mental space missions.
Not to bring up an unpleasant subject, but something is fishy at local headquarters. I've had a flash awareness that the Director of Training is to blame. I haven't seen all of his records of treatment on the most advanced drills, but a while back he was upset about something, started falsely and irrationally criticizing the way Ron wants things run, and left English HQ at full steam. Well, they got him back all right, got part of his story out of him, and put him through a long lie-detector type of test and some additional interrogation to find out who's been putting him up to his subversive behavior. He finally divulged the person's name, renounced him, and made it official by writing the culprit a letter stating that he would have nothing more to do with him. But that didn't end the matter. More recently he's been jabbering like one of those idiots who hasn't joined our group, complaining of pains (SOMS = "somatics") even after we checked out his performance on every drill he's done so far, and he's again behaving so erratically that he could damage our operation. The routing office got him back in the swing of things, and ordered him to go through two different sets of troubleshooting questions. He got so tense he had violent reads that finally blew out the machine. At some point he may have made a sham of our honor system by lying about his progress -- perhaps false statements concerning his competence at doing the drills by himself -- or else at an early stage he misrepresented his understanding of one of his neuroses. The guy may even now be reliving a past life in which he was hydrogen-bombed in an exploding volcano. In any event the poor bastard's flipping out, and we must find out who or what's to blame and fix it. If necessary the enforcement unit will have him work three straight days without sleep and send him to Ron's boat, where he'll be kept in strict compliance.
I don't wish to go on too long about this; you must think I'm still playing the yenta. So long for now. I'm going across the road and kill a couple hours staring into the eyes of a cow, haha. Talk to you soon, man.
| With a Universe of Understanding
and affection, Louise |
(That the English version of the letter is longer and much more cumbersome at last gives me something to admire about Scientologese.)