a record of events at sixteen chandos in the late nineteen nineties. the incidents have been slightly modified as to the time and what happened.
toronto, a crc rooming house on sixteen chandos street, at the time of the following incidents, rented to four people.
one night as the tenant in the basement room lays in bed another tenant comes home with some guests. someone of them comes down stairs past the tenants room and goes into laundry room. thit is only in there for less than a minute goes back up stairs and then he can hear them all seem to leave the house get in a car and drive away.
he gets out of bed and goes to the laundry room, he turns on the light switch and immediately can see the light fixture is not fixed to the ceiling, it has been loosened and when he pulls it down further he finds a bag of what seems to be a dried vegetable matter.
as he stands there he has a strange sensation between a thought and a voice intimating he should take the bag and flush the herbs down the toilet, it's a fire hazard and that would teach them not to store their herbs or whatever it is near the light fixture where it could catch fire.
the sensation between a thought and a voice is not very convincing though. he tucks the bag back, pushes the light back onto the ceiling as close as possible to the way it was to begin and returns to his room.
as he gets into bed and pulls the blanket over his head he is thinking what if the sensation between a thought and a voice is the voice to skull technology he's read of perpetrated by the csis and their leiu accomplices, or it's a malingering schizophrenic voice.
almost as soon as he retucks himself in bed somebody comes in the front door comes downstairs past his room and into the laundry room, for a few seconds and then goes back upstairs and leaves the house slamming the door behind thit. did thit lock it he thinks.
again he gets up goes back out to the laundry room and finds the light fixture hanging down and the bag is gone. that's so rude just to leave it hanging there some one could hit their head on it in the dark he thinks and again he returns to his room to finish pondering the question of the sensation and wether it was voice to skull microwave communication radio or plain old schizophrenic voices.
in the morning he comes upstairs to the kitchen where he finds the patio door to the backyard deck open and on the kitchen floor lays a small ziplock bag of a white and powdery material. this is what happens when people leave the doors open over night, the local heroin users come in the kitchen and leave their stuff behind.
as he thinks to himself wether to call the others down stairs and ask them if they had noticed or heard anyone in the house overnight he could sense that sensation somewhere between a thought and a voice communicating to him again. this time suggesting that he should take the bag of powder and try it. test it with his finger as they do in movies, please.
he can't decide if it's another voice to skull incident or malingering schizophrenia its so subtle. again the sensation is not very convincing, it could be arsenic for all he knows so he leaves it where it is and goes out for the day.
some thoughts on the incident the above fiction.
are they now using voice to skull in parallel construction to frame people into taking evidence they can then be searched for, knowing in advance the person has the evidence on them.
would they do this to increase convictions or to troll for informants.
is the crc working with csis the toronto police and rcmp, being little more than a surveillance unit disguised as low income housing.
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