The Sandorian Grove: ‘Logs of JD Flora Volume 2’ - Log #60 – The Regression Thingie    
 ‘Logs of JD Flora Volume 2’ - Log #60 – The Regression Thingie2 comments
picture28 Jul 2016 @ 10:41, by Max Sandor

‘Logs of JD Flora Volume 2’ - Within the Sphinx

- Log #60 – The Regression Thingie
UCLA / West Los Angeles, Friday June 9th, 1995

"Now. Is that clear?” Dr. Bollenberg asked, more like a command than a question.
"No.” I replied firmly.
"Idiot!” she said with a German pronunciation.

After half an hour of instructions in all the things that I should not ever do in the
future, I was thoroughly fed up with her and the organization she was working for.
"Listen, JD! I can have you transported straight into jail, right from this place with
a single, simple phone call.” she threatened.

"On what grounds?” I asked cocky.
"We can always make up a reason for that. No problem whatsoever. You would
wait for a trial for a year or two. Even if a judge would dismiss the case, you would
still be incarcerated for all that time. Now, how's that for an extended vacation,
heh?” she said aggressively. I raised my hand, the middle finger pointing upwards.

"Arschloch.” she said, now in plain German, slamming a folder onto the office
desk. "We don't need your f**king signature!” she yelled.
"If you should dare to do anything of what I told you to stay away from, you are in
deep sh*t! Klar?” she continued her threats, lowering her voice.

"I hear you.” I said calmly, hoping to get this over as soon as possible.
"Goot! The last thing will be, eh, you know this is the Institute for Advanced
Procedures in Clinical Psychiatry."

Now she tried to be friendly and professional. It nearly made me laugh.
"Never heard of it.” I remarked.
"Of course not. Now, for various reasons, we want to have two, three people
trained in this so-called 'time-breaking' mumbo-jumbo." she continued.
"Hah!” I couldn't hold back and started laughing.
"What is so funny about that?” she asked, and the way she said it made me laugh
even harder.
"Let's say, your people learn how to time-break. What do you think is the first
thing they'll do?” I asked her cynically.
"I do not know. I do not care! So what?” She was irritated.
"They will defect from the agency, of course! Haha!” I was still laughing, although,
all things considered, it didn't look too good for me at all.

"That is not your problem, You start Monday. You are even getting paid for it. As a
Computer Consultant. OK!?”
"Well, you don't need me.” I said, "they can do it on their own. Much better that
way, anyway."
"No, no. You show them how to do it. Then we see. It sounds really easy but I
wouldn't know how this could possibly do anything. So, we see."

Her English got worse and worse the more she talked. How could I have missed
her accent in the elevator? I was wondering.

"My personal theory is that all psychological methods are based on the 'timebreaking' principle. If you have people associate or if you make that regression thingie, whatever. Every time, you make the person looking at the past while the person is aware that he or she is in the present time, you have a bit of the timebreaking effect."

Perhaps it was a mistake trying to explain anything.
But I thought, what the heck!, it didn't matter.

"And?” she asked.
"Well, all what is different in 'time-breaking' is that you hold different objects or
scenes in your mind at the same time, in parallel, so to speak."
"Mumbo-jumbo is mumbo-jumbo. Period!” she said and walked to the door.
"Report at the main entrance Monday at 2pm sharp and ask for Dr. Bollenberg."

I left without saying anything further. The guard who was still patrolling the
corridor brought me to the exit.
Three heavily armed guards went through my pockets and, not having found anything of
interest to them, opened two solid metal doors in a row to release me back into
the labyrinth of UCLA's underground floor system.

'More complex than the Pentagon, the hallways around here', Dr. Bollenberg was saying,
and by now I was sure that she knew what she was talking about.
The walls all looked the same to me; the same off-white colors of which one never
knows if it was just a bad paint job or if time made it fade away.
Down at the bottom of the UCLA complex, the corridors go up in slight, even
slopes. Then down again.
Irregular curves will make you lose the sense for North and South after only a
couple of minutes.
I was absolutely positive that I followed the directions that I got from the guards.
Yet, after fifteen minutes, I was back at a point that I knew I had passed ten
minutes earlier.

'Division of Cytology - Genetics Workgroup. Department of Botany', it said on one
of the steel doors.
I remembered it because it also said: 'Danger! Authorized Personnel Only." which
was striking me as a bit unusual.
Perhaps there are killer herbs out there and I just don't know it, I thought,

The door opened, though, and two men in white coats came out to the hallway.
They were quite upset and shouted at each other in Spanish.
It was time to put my Berlitz Spanish to work.

"Buenas tardes, doctores!” I said, making a futile attempt to roll the 'r' over my
"El camino por Dental School, por favor!"

The two men looked at me as if I were an alien monster.
Just when they had decided to simply ignore me and to continue with their heated
discussion, one of them looked at my badge.

Politely, but also suspiciously he said: "Dr. Flora, I presume. How may I help
"El camino por Dental School, por favor!" I repeated.

Experience had taught me that more people know Dental School than
Hematology. I would be out of here soon.

"Well, Dr. Flora. Hmm. Actually, if you want to wait a moment, I will go to Hemo
myself, in a moment, and Dental School is kind of the way. If you want to follow
"I'll be delighted” I said, but felt a bit silly not having asked straight for Hemo in the first place.

The men continued their fight. "This batch should be destroyed.” the other man
said with an angry voice.
"Take it easy, Roberto.” said the man who promised to help me. "It's just a variety
of Aloe Vera."
"OK. OK. Julio. But don't blame me if some shit happens. OK?"

The other man jammed a key into one of the doors that did not have any signs on
them, opened the lock violently, disappeared inside the room, and slammed the
door behind him.

"Well, if you would kindly follow me, Dr. Flora." the friendly man said with an
accent-free English.
"It's about ten, fifteen minutes to Dental School from here. On the surface, it
would take half an hour or more” He seemed to find that thought amusing.
"Muchos grazias!” I said. "You know, I'm growing Aloe Vera for fun in my
backyard. Do you know any recipes by chance?"
His friendliness turned into uneasiness. "You are from the Review Committee,
aren't you?” he asked, pointing to my batch.

"Eh, well, in the moment I have some private business to attend to. Actually, I
have to go to Hemo, too, not to the Dental School. Now, do you happen to have
some recipes?” I looked at him expectantly.
"Eh, my wife has some, I believe. But she's back home.” he said.
"Mexico?” I said, giving my words an expressive Spanish pronunciation.
"Uruguay.” he answered with indignation.
"'Aah!” I said apologizing,
He didn't say anything further.
After less than fifteen minutes we arrived at the Dental School and took the
elevator upwards.
Being at Ground Level again, I felt relief.

"I'll get a coffee from the machine here. Thank you so much! I owe you!” I said to
my guide.
"My pleasure, Dr. Flora! Take care now!” and he left, heading towards the
elevator tower. I knew there was a short cut to go to Hemo from here but I never
dared to try it.

"Hello! Who is this? How are we doing today?” a voice with an oriental accent
said behind me.
"You never came to finish your dental work!” the voice continued. It belonged to
one of the teachers from Dental School.
"Eh. Well, I was really busy these days.” I answered, shaking his hand. He was
from mainland China and he already told me all about his life twice.
I repeated quickly "I'm busy right now, for that matter."

"Hmm. Your teeth are such a wonderful example! They have really every possible
defect and every thinkable damage!” he beamed. "They're so good for our
students! You know, it's so hard to find teeth that are as ruined as yours, my
friend, really! And it's so much cheaper for you to have your dental work done by
our students, isn't it? Please come back!" He constantly patted my back while he spoke.

"Yeah. OK. Now I really gotta go! See ya!” I said hastily and abandoned the
thought of an espresso from the coffee machine.
I took the way outside, around the Proctor Building, the one I was confident I
wouldn't get lost again, and sure enough, I finally arrived safely where I wanted to
go in the first place.

As always, the corridors were jammed with silver-shining metallic boxes,
instruments, aluminum bottles.

Huge signs at the walls threatened with unspecified punishments anybody who
dared to leave something standing in the hallway.
"Federal regulation strictly prohibit obstructions of any kind...” it read.

It was difficult to find a path through the immense number of containers blocking the way. And there was not a single box which didn't have a 'Danger' on it.
This part of the floor had been occupied by AIDS researchers a couple of years ago,
and they never left again.

Ironically, despite the overwhelming number of signs with warnings, regulations,
and outright threats, surrounded by some of the most toxic substances and viruses known to mankind, I felt safe again.
- End of Log #60 -

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