The material evolves rather quickly. If a person is starved for the seance (partial seance doesn't exist but, for the money, you'll get on the mine cart in the gossip storm anyway) then, upon approaching the later stages of improvement into fast, they accelerate.
The world is a zoo managed by the mine cart people. At significant times in your life, three or four or so, you take the magical mine cart journey. Was it worth it? No, but they say everybody is required to do it (you'll get in the box and laugh at the joke for the money). Once, fine tuning. Twice, readjustment and recalibration. Three, if the machine broke then the faulty component is on the way to the love boat.
Rainbowtards don't get the magic mine journey until late age. They spend their lives on a sequence of running from one veal box to another and gleaning power words in six and seven hit combo sequences as they interact deeply with the organ donor. "Massage Envy", here in La Jolla, is one particular "baby changing station" (if the Asians are involved then they have the most reliable system for making the target turn into a dog). After picking up their fresh drawn audio blood they walk down the block and hit me on the ear with it while somebody else in my range of sight makes the hand arm motion used for John the Baptist's special dunking move hold. Rainbowtards are given good routes to begin with, then in later years the variety becomes onerous, and around mid-life crisis they get a hot tip for a special veal box and, when they go to investigate, the investigators are there. When the rainbowtard attempts to use his usual six-hit combo to deal with official authorities he discovers that he's on a mine cart set. Handled into the basket, given to the mine cart servant, and taken on down.
They claim we're all family because they really ring his head when they only hardly yell at him. No. We're not family. They're spitting the freshly drawn blood on me after they just finished practicing their seven and eight hit mortality combo (do they ever sound like they're talking gibberish? it's a combo move) on the mummified wounded organ donor in the high turnover baby changing closet up the street, around the corner, down the way, or just over there.
Those "wild ones" don't get babies, don't get zorg, but they do get to tell everyone else that "everyone must do it" all their lives. That becomes their funniest joke in the world when it's time for their magic mine cart going straight to early retirement love boat.
The whos are escorts to the mine. They also get to spend a significant amount of time down there and then deal with mummified editions up here. Really wealthy ones are able to buy the mummification for their own love boat and then receive a veal organ donor who wasn't mummifically mutilated. After a few months in the box and some general physical therapy they work just like all the others.
The zorg empire is a large part of what happens underneath. Up top nearly anything with boobs is bound to be a modified XY genetic late stage or a cyborg. Real true XX models are kept down below or are used as bait for the mine cart. Love or money.
Mine carts are on routes. You are on waiting lines on cue. If you're not really doing it for the money then you probably will not be in the box next to the handler, the mine cart servant, and the escort when the mine cart flies by. If you are recently walking away from the money plan on the seven year platter hell sequence. Don't fall for the excuses. Over all of time, of all of the excuses that people make about "not doing it for the money", which ones are wrong. Every excuse is trained speech gleaned in six hit combos off of some open wounded baby (or freshly applied, if necessary) kept in a baby changing veal closet around a ghost box in various areas of all towns. You only use fifteen percent of your brain anyway. The remainder is on cue or on magnetic MRI field.
When China went through "The Last Emperor" and propped Forrest Gump up in place of the newly murdered nature boy Isaac mummy, they either went to hypernumbered mummies in permanent veal closets or "mummified baby with every home mortgage". What the emperor didn't know, caught up inside of his forbidden sheltered city, is that the people offering to him the refinancing paperwork (to move the eunuchs out of the treasure town and into general population) were already themselves part of the eunuch empire. The emperor thought that he was getting rid of the eunuch and gaining a few observers--who were themselves eunuchs anyway. Perhaps America was moved into the secret system of abomination much earlier in the effort to ward off The Last Emperor effect. Mummified baby with every home mortgage? Did you have enough money to afford the mummification?
The mine cart world is terrible. Phantasm Hellraiser the Cube Box on supercollider magnetically pulled mine carts. Michael Jackson up in da Vinci's crystal ball and the guy working on his pores with a dremmel. Every possible abomination, atrocity, torture, and mechanism. If you achieved a Ph. D. then you get a mine cart journey with only a miniscule adjustment to convince you that only those who really deserve it get taxed and you just earned your degree. Full MDs get the first mine cart journey with no extra fee and that really ensures that they play along when they return to the upper world. The world down below is neverending noise worse than hyperaccelerated day of atonement party--explains why the whos are so batshit crazy nuts (in addition to handling wounded organ donors on a nightly basis into peg out death).
Mine carts servants. MC Escher. cservice.undernet.org. MTS, mine cart training system. Your automobiles are obviously functional foot pedals and MRI chambers and trainers for the mine cart.
Did it ever occur to you that doctors egg beat your babies? Left right left right sacred ogling pole? The wealthy ones in the department stores, too,"Let me see your baby" (left right left right left right). That trains your baby to accept their presence more than yours. If you ever lose your child they will gravitate towards the people who beat their egg the most. Since they handle wounded mummy babies their entire lives they are always able to quiet yours down again.
What's the oldest method to progressively push someone onto the mine cart sequence? "What's wrong, Cain?" Run them through a trying situation, give them five seconds of quiet to begin to collect, then bang with "what's wrong? what's wrong? what's wrong?" Whatever excuse they make up (similar to a new baby, they make noise only hoping for you to shut up and go away) is then given to the people who are working on that one for the mine cart. Whether or not the system works that person has been waiting in line to get on that mine cart anyway (for love or money). If you give to them better excuses then maybe they give to you better explanations--and maybe you laugh at the joke before you get handled into the mine.