The Untruthful Insinuations

I was sitting in a train and observed the girl on the opposite-side seat. I was traveling backwards, she forwards. Behind her sat a few other people, two of whom I recognized. One of those two, a woman in her forties looked at me, then bent over and and whispered something to a fellow who faced the other way. After a while this person turned his head and gave of something of a cold smile. Meanwhile, the lady who had whispered to him said something to what probably was two other friends of them both. One of these, a guy in his mid thirties looked at me with mock envy. A woman, whom she had seemingly also addressed, turned around. She looked both haughty and insinuative of herself as virtuous in never having to be haughty. this frightened me.

The girl whom I at first had looked at seemed to notice that I was troubled. She wrinkled her eyebrows a little in concern. Then she tried to smile.

Looking at her I drew my breath. "I'm worried," I told her, in a voice that I hoped would not be heard by the people behind her back, "because those who sit behind you seem to fake that I try to pretend I'm their kind of a fellow, or something!"

She seemed concerned in more than one way about me saying this. In a sense, it seemed, we who had not met before, could preferably have nothing to say to each other. But in another sense she seemed concerned about me and what I was telling her.

"It seems to me that they try to pretend that I am into them as people I ask favors of," I told her.  now I began feeling that there would perhaps be a point made against them if they did overhear me talking about them.

"Oh," the girl said. "Why do you tell me about it?"

I sighed. "Because I felt I had to grab the opportunity to say something about while it's happening. ... Also it's because there's a possibility, I hope, that you could care about it!"

There was a mumble from behind her. It seemed to startle her a little. Then she looked at me with a curious eye.

"Why do you look at me like that?" I asked.

"Because it seems that you could be someone they would take for granted as more real about pressuring them than there can be in you!"

"Right" I said. "I'm relieved that at least you can realize it"

She smiled. "Yeah! ... They said that you are about trying to manipulate them into thinking that you didn't have them fake about you that they would be swell and cool and so!"

"I don't feel that I want them to be about it, but I bet they would want me to feel gracious about them for it just the same!"

"Yeah, that could be so!" she answered.

"There's an absolute nonsense," I said, "to the weird gratitude I am supposed to have  -  and that I don't have. I only find it in me to sometimes be able to relate to it!"

She looked at me and answered. "How come then, those who insinuate that stuff don't find themselves aware of the fact that they thereby seem to believe, with no good reason for it, in lies that are similar to claims about themselves as stupid enough to never assume there's a check to be made or a certainty to be had?"

"It's because they don't feel that kind of self-disgust that I and probably you too would feel for having such an attitude!"

She looked thoughtful in a way that put me a bit of ease. "How come," she asked after a while, "do they affect you so easily?"

"There's a difficulty about them," I began; then I had to think for a while, before continuing: "I think it is that they do not feel guilt about not having gratitude at all, but still are able to insinuate that they, as opposed to for example me, would be able to know about guilt or not. At least I think it's that kind of a thing, but somehow they're to weird for me to be quite certain about!"

She thought about it. This time, to my relief, it didn't seem to insinuate that I should have to worry about something. "Do you know what? They do seem to be insinuating that they are welcome among all other people but those that they pretend aught to be grateful for seeming cool or self-assured in ways that you for one don't really care for doing."

"Then I would want it said about me that I don't represent such weird types of pride and vanity. Because they always seem to be insinuating that if I say I don't, then I am hiding something, somehow. I usually can't figure out what people believe I am about then, but they do become arrogant and tend to insinuate that they might have an asshole, to be dealing with, who slyly pretends to be ... an unusually worth it type of stuck up."

"Then I can speak to my sister and tell her to try to say that about you."

"Thanks you! Then perhaps their lies will be exposed as what they are!"

She looked at me and seemed to insinuate she wanted that resurrection for me. She then smiled and took her purse, rose from her seat and took two steps towards the door. There she turned to me and asked: "Why don't we meet again and try to talk about how come they're able to do such stuff?"

Grateful for this, I said: "Well of course! Sure! Let's meet again sometime!"

She took out her mobile phone and asked for my number. I told her and then she called my phone for half a second. I looked at her number on it, thanked her again and told her my full name. She told me hers and left. Two minutes later I waved at her at the station where she had gone off. She waved back briefly.

One day later I sent her an SMS that said: "Let's communicate via email. Because I think ther can be some misinterpretations between us otherwise."

She sent me hers, then i sent her mine.

A few weeks later I called her. After two signal she answered. "Sonya speaking!"

"Hey Sonya! It's Jim! Do you remember me? Ehm, I'm the guy who talked to you on the train. ... Uhm, oh. I hope I'm not calling at an inconvenient time for you!"

"Not quite," she said, "but a little. ...  Perhaps I can call y9ou back later!"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, OK, at seven."

When she called she told me about that her sister had tried to say something to some people I had mentioned in an email. "But it's not, "she said, "cool for them, it seems, to believe what she says about you!"

"I see," I answered thoughtfully. "Are they about cool as the type of faking that seems to free them  -  or some other people  -  from responsibility?"

She drew a deep breath. "I'm not sure about it! I'll ask my sister, then I'll call you back."

Almost half an hour later, she called again. "She said that they're only sort of cool about trying to feel that the truth is not a very important responsibility! Rather they seem to be into having it there's no truth without lying enough!"

I was startled. "Oh! That's what they think!"

... and Who Else Might Play that Game

Simon, Beatrice and a few others were part of a small gang who was playing a game of look-alike trickery. Doing that, they were all more or less proud about being able to con and pretend to be at least one other person each. "It's we who can deal with telepathy smarter than they can." Simon once told Elvira, whom he was trying to get laid with.

Now Elvira didn't exactly keep her mouth shut about it. Fairly soon many people in their community had heard about their aspirations. But the gang were lucky enough to have someone who looked much like Elvira, and who could talk about it in a way that seemed silly in a sense so that people tended much to ignored it. To the extent they didn't, they got curious about it so that there was a good chance for her and her friends to use knowledge of it as a bate. Using that bate they tempted people to try it themselves.

Most of those who tried the trickery felt that it was difficult to figure it out thoroughly without keeping it more or less secret. Then, also, while experimenting with their telepathy and cons, they eventually began to do things to people that they did not want those people to find out. So hardly anyone quite wanted quite everybody to know. Those few who did were distrusted and ridiculed, partly both by those by those who wanted it to be kept secret and by very many of those not introduced to it all  -  most of whom simply did not believe them.

As years went by, some of the look-alike-con players had children. Some of those were seemingly their look-alike person's kid, especially for the male players. But many who were into the occult game did start families in ordinary ways, often living seemingly only ordinary lives.

After one more generation, there was a child with two parents who both were raised into belief in belief in such con-game telepathy. As part of his child-play, he was played many a game for learning the (for this family only kind of secret) stuff. While doing it, he started to try to have telepathic communication with insects, frogs and rats. Dong it, he got frightened. Because there were signs that those animals were cunning in telepathy, not just the small stuff his that society and his parents seemed to feel they were.

When he told his mother about this, she looked doubtful but curious. After a few hours, her husband returned from work, and they talked to him about it. At first he didn't say anything, only looked as if there were things about it that started his mind working. But at last he asked: "Are you sure the rats weren't into pretending to understand what these things are about?"

"It's certain," his wife answered, "in that we have tried to fool them about why we try to study them! They reacted by certifying that we seemed ridiculously into believing that of ourselves!"

"Really?" he asked bluntly.

"Yeah, really!" both his wife and his son replied.

"... and the mice too, I think!" the son added.

"Really ..." his father said again.

"Mh, yeah," the mother said."And worse than just that, it seems they are into trying to fool us all, I mean people in general!"

"But .... " the father began.

"It's not they who seemed to know it when our parents first started with this stuff!" his wife filled in. "I've already thought about that! But they do seem to be catching on with it!"

"Oh! Do you mean it's because we're doing it?"

"Perhaps. ..." she replied. "But they seem to be cunning in a different sense than that it's from us they've learned most of it, I think."

Her husband sighed. "Does this mean that we can be spied upon as long as they're near us, or is there something long-distance too about their fashion of telepathy?"

"It seems that they're into mostly the nearby stuff. That's why I said that their cunning of it different."

"So I thought," he said with a little smile on him.

She sighed. "It's not as safe as it can seem, even so. They seem to be learning us for it!"

"Damned them!" He looked at his son and wife. "Why don't we call those expert exterminators of rats? I mean they wouldn't be experts, would they, if they got stuck in their traps of spying by telepathy!"

"Yeah! Or let's just get a cat!" his son burst out.

"A cat! You're right. Let's try that."

"I'm afraid I'm allergic to cats," his wife said.

He wrinkled his eye-brows. "Oh shit! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It didn't seem important!"

"Do you think it's not? I want a family without that!" He looked at their son. "Even you, perhaps?"

"What?"

"Do you think you're allergic to cats?"

"No!"

His father peered a bit scornfully at him. "Are you sure? I mean do you pet them ever? And are you sure they don't get you ill when you do?"

"The son though about it. "Yeah, I fondle them at times. Once when I did it a lot, mom got ill afterwards, but I didn't."

His father smiled, then frowned and looked at his wife. After a while he drew his breath. "I don't feel that you can't be living with Jessica's former boyfriend, and then pretend to be her for the rest of your life!"

"But what if Jessica finds out?"

"I don't know. You'll have to solve that problem!"

She looked thoughtful a while before replying: "No, I can't!"

"I think you could've done it if there was money in it all!"

She sighed and thought about it. "Yeah, alright, perhaps I can," she said at last.

"Do I have to help you, or will you manage?"

"I'd prefer if you did, but I can handle it  -  preliminarily!"

A few months later Jessica's ex had seemingly moved out of town  -  with a new girlfriend or something, it seemed.

The cat that she moved out of the way for seemed to catch mice quite well, but was not quite keen on rats. But even the they seemed inhibited by it.