I will be posting some excerpts here from my autobiography, Never Give Up, here. This is the introduction and part of Chapter 1

Introduction

I remember being told, when I was a very young child, to say the words, with other children, “Ich bin eine kinder macht zachens gut” (I am a child who does things well). I believed it then, because life really was about performing well. But now, as I am older, I realize that this was not really true. I was a child who desperately wanted to be loved.

  This is an autobiography in which I describe parts of the first twelve years of my life growing up in a highly organized and extremely wealthy occultic group: the Jesuit Order. Their wealth enables them to build extremely sophisticated programming studios and laboratories, and to use and develop advanced healing and mind control technologies. This autobiography does not include all memories, of course, since that would require a library of books. Instead, I share the memories that stand out the most from these early years. It is thus a “snapshot” of various scenes I lived through as a child to show what it was like to experience these events. While in previous books, I have discussed programming more from the observer perspective, in this book, I am much more personal.

This book is not written in chronological order. The first chapter covers a few key milestones in my infancy. The remaining chapters are grouped according to topic, and cover memories from various ages within that topic. In these chapters, I often share how early trauma and training lay the foundations for later programming and training for the skill area or job discussed in that chapter.

I realize that some of the memories I share, especially in the mage and spiritual training sections, may be hard to believe. I may be accused of having read too many ‘fantasy novels’ (which I never have and never will read since they have always frightened me). I believe that instead, some (but, of course, not all) writers in that genre may be actually drawing from their memories of these types of things. I am also aware that some of the events I describe can be attributed to cult members dressed in costumes in elaborate setups, the use of virtual reality, drugs and hypnosis and other forms of trickery.

However, I also believe that not all things that occur in our world can be explained this simply. I believe that there is a spiritual, or even unknowable element to some experiences, i.e., encounters with forces that defy material or rational explanation. All that I can do is to share for the record my own encounters with these beings according to how I experienced these events, alongside the memories of the more mundane and very physical events of my childhood growing up in an occult training facility.

My memories are not unique. Many survivors around the world from various cults and agencies that practice mind control have reported similar things, including the military and assassin training, the training to respond to visual codes, tones, colors and other cues; spiritual training, and being wedded to Satan. None of these training and events are unique to the Jesuit order, although methods may vary from those used in other groups.

I have heard concerns that sharing memories about programming is giving too much information, possibly providing a “blueprint” for “how to program people.” I do not agree because programming involves much more than reading how one group does things. Reading memories of how one organized group programs their members, and then being able to program others, i.e., elicit the desired behaviors and beliefs in the subject, would be similar to reading a book on quantum physics, and then being able to build a spaceship. It simply can’t be done. A lot more knowledge and skill are required to be able to program people than is described in this book. Additionally, the groups capable of conducting the kind of programming described in this book are already doing the things described here, since this is from fifty years ago and things have advanced exponentially since then.

I have written this autobiography for several reasons. One is to expose what is going on in a world that is increasingly confronting what can simply be termed as “evil”, and some of the experiences that produce people capable of this evil. I also want to validate the memories of those who have survived similar types of abuse. I describe the impacts of such abuse on a young child and over that person’s lifetime, and hope that this would be helpful not only to survivors, but also to therapists and others who support survivors. To emphasize hope and the incredible strength and capacity for humanity that survivors retain despite pervasive early abuse, I share too how I began to question and break free of the abuse and control, despite my years of indoctrination, trauma and mind-controlled, programmed obedience to the Order where I had perpetrated against others under orders.

In the book I describe several memories of the Order investing tremendous amounts of time, effort, manpower and finances on the spiritual training and spiritually-themed programming of their infants and children. Some readers may ask, “Why on earth do they go to such a great lengths to instill occult beliefs in their children?” The answer is that the Jesuit Order in its dark side completely believes in the concepts of ascension (into immortality, bliss and fulfilment) and descension (into mortality and hell). Religion is a great motivator, as seen historically and around the world, and the Jesuits are no exception. They are fervent in their beliefs in ascension and descension to a degree that would put to shame many of the most fervent believers in many faiths. They spend a great deal of time passing their beliefs on to each new generation, as my memories illustrates, and believe that children must be introduced very early to these concepts in order to fully believe and grasp such concepts. As very young children learn best through concrete experiences, they train and program children through the use of older cult members dressed up as spiritual entities, and take them through studios designed to look like locations in the spiritual realms or dimensions. They believe that without these early concrete experiences, the child when older will eventually have much greater difficulty in accessing the dimensions, and seeing, hearing and interacting with immortal beings who assist with ascension.

Finally, this is my personal story. As human beings, we each long for someone to hear our story, whether good or bad, as this is part of the processing that occurs for those who have survived extreme trauma. In a sense, this is my narrative shared with the world now, in hopes that it will accomplish some good, and provide some hope for others who long to be free.

The memories shared within these pages are the result of 35 years of working at healing. These memories did not come forward quickly, easily or painlessly. It involved many years of journaling, therapy, prayer ministry, using dolls and other toys to act out what had happened, as well as other modalities. Over time, I have gained a much better understanding of what my life was, and as a result, what I want to rest of my life to be.  I want it to be free of the manipulation, the demands for performance, and the spiritual darkness that characterized my younger years. My greatest desire is to now live my life in thanksgiving to the God of the Bible, and His son, Jesus, who have forgiven me for the terrible – and painful – things I was forced to do, throughout my life.

Defining Some Terms Used in this Book

Dissociation and Programming: When a person is subjected to extreme pain to the degree that his/her mental, emotional or physical survival is threatened, that person can dissociate, i.e., create a new state of consciousness that is capable of doing anything in order to survive or stop the trauma. Emotional traumas, such as abandonment, even in the absence of physical traumas, especially by an attachment figure, can also cause dissociation. This new state of consciousness is extremely suggestible. Programmers in the cults consider this a type of tabula rasa state: in order to survive, this new state of consciousness will believe/do/feel whatever it is told to think/do/feel and is easily convinced that this compliance is what stops the abusers from abusing him/her. Common terms for these new states of consciousness include “personalities”, “parts” or “alters”. The goal of cult-controlled dissociation as described in these pages is to ‘program’ the child: (1) subject a young child to enough pain, physical or mental, or both, to create new states, (2) give them names or codes, (3) teach these new states specific beliefs, emotions and/or jobs, (4) condition these parts into continued compliance by reward and punishment. In this book, I use the term ‘parts’.  

Cult host: the cult host is the part of the child raised in a cult who lives the child’s cult life, e.g., this is the part who is out in the body during rituals, meetings and lessons in the cult facilities, and so on. This part will not be amnesic to the cult activities. For me, this was the part of me that felt most substantial and most like the “real me” since most of my life was spent in cult facilities or carrying out duties for the cult in other settings.

Presenter: In the Jesuit order, these are the parts of an individual that are created to be “out”, or to present and live in the “normal world” in “ordinary families” outside the training facility. These parts are programmed to present in various countries, and will have families that host them starting at age three. Each presenter in each country will have been programmed to have its own name, personality, abilities and preferences, and to be completely amnesic to all cult activities, as well as to the activities of the other presenter parts. Despite being one set of parts, they will believe that they are the entire person, and only recall an ordinary life with no hint of any cult existence. Presenter parts are typically programmed to disbelieve, deny, or be highly distressed by any cult-related memories.

Internalize: During early childhood, we tend to internalize the things we experience and see (building a sense of reality and how the world works). Programmers take advantage of this natural developmental period to introduce parts to concrete experiences that demonstrate to the child the scenarios, people and beliefs that they want the child to internalize. For instance, if they want the child to internalize a castle, they will take the child to spend time in this castle. If they want the child to develop an internal ‘castle guard’, they will have a designated part spend time with a castle guard (to role model the beliefs and behaviors), then dress the part up as a castle guard and have the part act out this role. This kind of ‘internalization’ is common across individuals who experience early trauma, for instance, the person who realizes that they still hear their critical parents’ voices inside their heads long after they have attained adulthood. Due to the dissociation, parts subject to these setups may only have experiences of the ‘reality’ that their programmers had them ‘experience’.

Programming studio: These are large dedicated rooms or areas for programming in the cult facilities. These studios would rival the best of any Hollywood filming studio. They can be designed to look like any place that the programmers need, e.g., space ships, pyramids, underwater caverns, the city of Troy, a circus, etc. They have state-of-the-art lighting, animatronics, holograms, walls, ceiling, and floors that are screens that can display any scenario, and other audio-visual technologies to create extremely realistic experiences for the child being programmed in them. During programming scenarios, the adults and older children will put on costumes and act out the scenes (for instance, in a ‘hell’ scene, they may dress up as demons) that the programmers want the infants and children to learn about and eventually internalize.

Programming laboratories: Often located in the same buildings as the programming studios, these are areas dedicated to research on programming, and where children and adults receive assessments, health checkups, programming schedules and other processes that are critical to their programming. Very sophisticated equipment for programming, data collection, data management and so on is part of these labs.

The Fathers: Individuals in the Jesuit Order, both men and women, (yes, there are both sexes in the occultic side of this order, unlike the male only fathers in the public side) who have undergone the full training required and completed the coming of age ceremony at age 13 (described later in this book), are titled ‘fathers’. For instance, as a child, I called my primary mentor, “Father Mattheo”.

The Fathers I Loved: As the Order understands the importance of attachment and community for mind control, each child raised in the Order will be given 12 primary Fathers to be bonded to from infancy. Three of these 12 will be designed as the child’s primary programmers, and the child will be conditioned to bond most strongly with these three fathers. This bonding starts in the womb, then throughout infancy and childhood. It is common for individuals in the Order to be assigned three new primary programmers as they become adults. This is to ensure that the person continues to be bonded to agents capable of controlling them as their original programmers age, and that there is no risk of losing control over that individual should their original programmers die. These new programmers are typically selected from among peers who he/she is already very close to, such as a twin, a classmate (who is as close to them as any biological sister or brother could be), or a close mentor.

Class: At the age of six, children raised in the Jesuit programming facilities are assigned to a class consisting of eleven other children their own age, to create a group of twelve for each class. There are multiple classes within each facility, and each class will have their own dormitory. These children eat together, sleep together, go to classes together, go through physical training together, and bond extremely closely to one another. The fathers tell them that they are “sisters” and “brothers”. The children consider their classmates to be sisters and brothers, emotionally, even if not genetically. Along with the fathers, these classmates comprise the child’s “family” when growing up in the facility.

Mage: The Jesuit Order is very occultic. Each child will have spiritual mentors who have achieved the status of a mage, an individual who has become extremely well versed in occultic knowledge, incantations, spells, and rituals over many years of training, intense study and testing. Mages are expected to mentor those younger than them, and to help raise up a new generation of mages. They are skilled in oral teaching, ancient languages and are often master storytellers, since much of the information is also passed down in oral form. All children are expected to become mages themselves. I use the term ‘mage’ instead of other terms for practitioners of the occult arts, such as ‘wizard’, ‘sorcerer’, ‘magician’ or ‘witch’ as this is the term that parts used when sharing their memories.

Ascended Master: This is considered by the Jesuits the highest form of spiritual achievement. These individuals are considered as close to ascension as a human being can achieve while still walking the earth.

Immortal: The Order believe that immortals are beings who are trying to help mankind ascend and become like them, and to teach them how to overcome their mortal flesh. “Overcoming the mortal flesh” includes suppressing the desires within a human being that make them flinch away from interacting with these beings, and accepting the pain and long, difficult training that the fathers believe is necessary to ascend. The Jesuit fathers utterly and completely believe in these immortals, and in the theology of ascension and descension.

Demon: I believe that the immortals and other spiritual beings described in this book are actually demons, or what the Bible describes as fallen angels. These beings were formerly filled with glory and were in the presence of the true God of the Bible. However, the one named Lucifer (now known as “Satan”) chose to rebel against the loving creator of the universe, due to pride (he wanted to be as God). In his rebellion, the Bible says that one third of the angels followed Lucifer and became fallen angels, or demons are they are commonly known. Demons can also refer in some theologies to the souls of individuals or Nephilim who are wandering the earth. In my book, I am not referring to this interpretation, but instead, to the “fallen angel” definition. While I believe that both angels and demons are real, as the memories in this book make clear, some of the “demons” I encountered in childhood were actually older children or adults in costumes. Also, I had many parts who were programed to believe they were demons. This is extremely common in ritual abuse and mind control groups.  These parts are usually very young children. These parts, when they came out, would growl, threaten, and act very convincingly according to how people believe demons would act. In reality, however, they were frightened little children who had been given a difficult role to play inside, whether as a punisher, a guardian, or other jobs.  

Chapter 1: Infancy

One of my first memories is of looking at the light sifting in through an outside window. I am an infant, and am being held, and allowed to look outside for a brief moment. I am old enough to hold my head up and body straight, as I peer longingly at the outside world, at the soft greens, browns and blues of grass, earth and sky. I wonder if even then, I was longing to be free from the facility that was almost my whole world the first three years of life.

I was conceived in a genetics laboratory in Switzerland, the product of “state of the art” genetic manipulation. I was a “generation 3” baby in the Order, from one of the batches of genetically designed babies that were ‘benefiting’ from their latest round – the third one – of genetic knowledge, including the ability to isolate genes for intelligence, strength, and quick healing. I know this from looking later in life at my own records, once I had clearance at the cult facility as a trainer myself. As an adult in the Order, I also read my own records of the programming done to me while in utero, but I have no conscious memories of the programming; only vague, inchoate feelings of rage, sadness, joy, love and rejection, and feeling very disturbed at the thought of what these feelings could mean.

All I can really be sure of is that as a fetus, my life was unpleasant and manipulated, a mixture of reward and punishment, to prepare me for what was to come when I was born.  What was distressingly omitted was something I had never known, but instinctively craved: real love without conditions. It was to become a deep longing throughout my life. Later in life, after I left the Order, during my healing journey I met fetal parts from the prenatal period of my life. These fetal parts had not only their original memories, but had also been programmed throughout my lifespan. This made their memories a mix of primal fetal rage, fear, and pain due to early traumas, and the meaning their programmers gave these memories.

My next conscious memory, a brief flash, is of being held lovingly by a woman who is rocking me in a chair, while she nurses me at her breast. The room is white; the woman is dressed in white, and she is singing me a song about how the best and bravest do great things for the Order, smiling tenderly at me the whole time. I am content, and love her, this woman who is one of my primary trainers, as she soothes me after a programming session that I no longer remember, or want to remember, wanting simply to experience being held and loved for this point in time. There is no other type of love available, so like a sponge, I soak it up.

Another memory flash: men in white lab coats come through the nursery, checking each infant. I am in a metal crib with bars, and want to get out, but I am still too young to try. But even then, the thought of escape, while unattainable then, simmers in the back of my mind. The problem is that it is getting fuzzier, a bit harder each day, to know exactly what it is that I want to escape, but even during rest, I feel deep within that something is very wrong here, something that I need to get away from, regardless of the soothing words and loving pats on the back.

I want to note here that early trainers are both male and female, and in the facility that I was raised in, female trainers often nursed young infants as part of the bonding, and also to comfort them after stressful training sessions. The trainers were sometimes given injections of hormones to lactate if they were not actively lactating. The Jesuit fathers were well aware of the importance of attachment in development, and in programming. The fathers who programmed me were dissociative as well; there was a tradition of abuse that created dissociation for many centuries in the Order. The love and nurturing they showed was real; it was not “fake”, but it was still manipulative, because they were not free to love the way that I believe many of them longed to. They were all slaves to fear – the fear of disobeying Satan – and this fear made them unable to love in a truly free or healthy manner. What they did instead was to pour out the love within them in the carefully prescribed ways that were permitted, such as when holding and nursing the babies. When I was older, this was one of the ways I was allowed to be tender, and I loved cuddling and holding the babies. Even in this terribly abusive environment, the members of our group found ways to express love whenever we could.

Josef Mengele’s Cruelty

I am in the infant nursery at some point later in time. There are dozens of us infants in this room. We are in little metal cribs with metal rails, on mattresses with white sheets. We all wear little white soft long shirts and linen diapers, and can see each other through the bars of our cribs, or when we pull ourselves up to stand and peek over. Today, one of the other babies in the nursery is pulling himself up, and is energetically trying to climb over the raised rail of his crib. Interested, I pull myself upright, using the rail of my crib, to get a better view of what he is doing. He tries to climb over, drops back, then keeps trying, until finally, he falls right over onto the white tiled floor with a “thump!”

All of us other babies stare, and wonder if we can do the same; it looks like fun! The baby who escaped happily crawls around to the other cribs, as if urging us to join him. He seems to act a bit triumphant and proud of himself. Then, he crawls towards the main door to the nursery, which seems to be the way out since that is where all the trainers go through when they leave. Suddenly, footsteps are heard, the door swings open, and an enraged Mengele comes stomping into the nursery. His glasses and hair are quivering with rage.

He yanks the little boy baby on the floor up by one arm, and takes him over to a large wooden table in the middle of the room. He takes a large steel cleaver off a nearby table, and suddenly he chops the infant’s hands off on the table top, with loud “thunks”.  All of us other infants stare at this scene with wide eyes of horror. We are silent, too terrified to even scream. Then, Mengele takes the little boy baby, and hangs him upside down from a hook in the middle of the nursery, to bleed to death in front of us all. The blood drips down, and the terrified baby screams as his white shirt turns scarlet, until finally, his cries slowly stop as the life ebbs out of him in spurts.

During this act of dying, Mengele glares at the rest of us infants, and screams in German, “This is what happens to “bad babies” who don’t obey or try to get away!” Terrified at what I have just witnessed, shaking inside, I decide then not to try to crawl out of my crib, regardless of how wrong things feel in this place. I decide to bury these feelings of wanting to escape deep inside, because I very much want to live. Being the object of Mengele’s anger is a very, very bad situation to be in, and I try to conform to what he wants as best as I can, even at this young age.

Mengele could be unutterably cruel, as this scene demonstrates. In our facility in Italy, he was the top trainer, due to the large amount of new programming information that he developed during the war years. This is why in occult groups, he is at times referred to as “the father of modern programming.” He discovered that fetuses and very young infants could be programmed, and that in fact, programming done at these impressionable ages when the brain is developing rapidly, is less likely to break down later in life.

Being raised in a cult facility just north of Rome, Italy, the memories I share in this section are some of my earliest ones. I have other memories of Mengele, who I believe, along with Hilde, his blond, blue-eyed assistant, were both dissociative. I believe that they were products of the extreme and cruel programming methods of the early 1900s, when attachment was less understood, and sociopathic personalities were more likely to develop. As far as I know, Hilde, who was raised with him and endured the horrors of their childhood together with him, was the only human being that he trusted, although he did obey orders from those who paid him to program their children, both in Italy and other countries.

Mengele and Hilde were two of my infant trainers, but not my only ones (thank goodness!). I shudder to think of what kind of human being I would have grown up to be if I had not also experienced the kindness at times from the Jesuit fathers who were my primary attachments.

Survival of the Fittest

Mengele liked to use ‘survival of the fittest’ setups to cull out the weakest babies, and ensure that only the fastest, strongest, most intelligent babies were kept. Fortunately, due to the large numbers of babies that died, this setup was phased out quickly in the Order after his death. By then, I was an adult, and my influence as a trainer, along with that of Mattie, another top trainer, caused this change. We argued successfully that this method was needless, since there were other ways of assessing these qualities. We were also concerned about the long-term impact on the Order’s unity, longevity and prosperity, if all our members believed deep in their unconscious minds that their peers were competitors for basic needs, and that the only way for them to survive was for their peers to die.  

I can crawl, quickly, now that I am four months old, with soft curly brown hair starting to grow that matches the color of my brown eyes. I am athletic and fast, and perform well in the physical assessments. Today, I am in a small cage with bars. I can see two dozen other similar cages in the room, each containing a baby. I am hungry and thirsty, since I have not been fed for several hours. In the middle of the room are three bottles with formula. I look hungrily at them, I want one! Suddenly, the doors to all of the cages lift simultaneously, and a baby race is on. We all crawl as fast as we can to get to the bottles in the middle of the room.

I, and two of the other fastest babies get there first. Breathing hard, I grab a bottle and start drinking the life-giving, nourishing formula. But two other babies are trying to grab the bottle away from me, they are hungry too. There is a fist grabbing for the bottle, and another baby is climbing onto my back. I have to fight them off, kicking, biting, twisting and turning my back on them, all the while trying to drink the formula as quickly as possible. I am able to successfully keep my bottle and fend off the other hungry babies, using my strong, chubby little legs to kick some away, and get enough formula in me to allay my hunger – and to survive. After a few days of this scenario, the weakest babies are crawling extremely slowly, and I, along with two other of the strongest babies are able to drink a full bottle with barely any resistance from the others.

Mengele walks into the room and picks one of the babies up who is drinking formula, cuddles him, and praises us three, looking at us with a smile. “You are good babies, strong and smart,” he tells us. He then goes around the room, and one by one, he hangs a baby from a hook through its gut, in the middle of the room. “This was a weak baby,” he says derisively. “This baby didn’t try hard enough.” He hangs others of the “weak” babies from hooks, and horrified, we three survivors watch. I realize deeply that, in order to survive, I must perform well. Surviving means performing well for Mengele, and I learn quickly to be fast and smart – to find the best way to do something. I don’t want to end up on a hook, hanging in the middle of a room.

I am a toddler, several months later, and I hate Mengele, on whom my survival depends. Once again, I am in a cage in a room, with doors that can rise. Next to me is another toddler my age, a little girl. I smile at her, and she smiles at me. In the middle of the room is some food and water, and I already know what will happen.

Suddenly, the doors to our cages lift, and we all run to the middle, trying to fight off each other in a melee that includes mashed faces from tiny fists, kicking, and grabbing. I grab some food, which I eat quickly, grab a drink, and return to my cage.

This happens for two more days, but on this third day, I notice that the little girl in the cage next to me is weakening. I am starting to notice others more at this age, and seeing her look this way bothers me – a lot. When the doors lift, I race to the middle, grab some food, eat a quick bite, then return back to my cage. I then offer some of the food in my little fist to this other toddler. She smiles gratefully at me, but doesn’t seem to want to eat; I wonder why, since I was extremely hungry before I ate some of the food. I go over to her cage, and try to put it in her mouth, but she doesn’t eat, to my huge distress. I realize now as an adult that she was probably dehydrated and too weak to eat. “Eat, eat, eat” I tell her over and over, but even when I try to put the food in her mouth, she just closes her eyes and falls asleep.

The next morning, she dies and is taken away. As I watch her body being carried out, I cry silently, hiding my tears from Mengele, who would have punished this type of weakness. Fortunately, the fathers were more understanding, and disagreed at times with his methods.

That night, Mattheo, the father I love most of all, notices that I am upset. In my high-pitched little toddler voice, I sob and tell him about the other little girl.

“I am glad that you cared,” he says. “But even more glad that you lived. There simply wasn’t enough food for all of the babies.” While he is trying to promote my acceptance, I can see in his eyes that he is sad and disturbed, too.

“I wanted to share, but she wouldn’t eat,” I say, crying.

“She was too weak to eat,” he says. “But it was good of you to try. And very smart of you to try to find a way to help her.”

Mattheo is a rising leader in the Order, and I am glad that he understands. In a few more years, he will be one of the fathers who initiates stopping these survival exercises, with the support of the younger trainers.  I love Mattheo and the other fathers, and trust him more than I trust Mengele. But Mengele will never, ever suspect how I feel, because I want to survive, and Mattheo has made it clear that he wants me to live, too.

Many of the infants programmed by Mengele and other trainers in this type of scenario struggled with issues around food all of their lives. When adults, later in life, they hoard food, or gain weight, or become anorexic. Even as a young child, when hosted in my American presentation, I would sneak food and hide it under my pillow. My family teased me relentlessly about this habit, but allowed it, perhaps sensing the deep psychological need to do so.

Mattheo and the other fathers argued successfully to discontinue these methods for several reasons. One was seeing disturbances related to food in the children that survived. But another was that this programming promoted survival at the expense of others, while the Jesuits wanted their leaders to think of the good of all, when leading teams on missions; they wanted to promote a cohesive working together and bonding with each other that is part of life in the order, and this training went against it. Later generations – those after G7 in the Jesuit Order- would not have to undergo these extreme setups.

Sexual Training

I am just a few weeks old. One of the fathers I love, Father Jerome (who is also a primary trainer) comes into the nursery and stands over my crib.  He looks at me lovingly, then takes my diaper off, and rubs me gently with his hand between my legs. It feels nice, but also odd; I feel confused. He continues for a while, and then puts his mouth between my legs.

This happens daily, as part of my early sexual training. I have never known anything else. When these things happen, I am called “Amis”. At first, all is gentle and kind, and I learn to accept it as part of being loved by my trainers, as part of the daily routine. After all, this doesn’t hurt, unlike some of the other things they do to me.

But after a few weeks, Father Carlotti, another primary trainer comes in. He has a special object in his hand; it is round, small, and not too hard, and he lubricates it and gently inserts it into my rectum. It is uncomfortable, and I wiggle and make a noise of dislike (I have learned not to cry and tantrum in rage already), but he makes a hand signal that means “Be still”. The halt and be still commands are among the very first commands I have learned since birth, and so I go limp, as taught, and allow him to continue. After a few seconds more, he stops, and then picks me up and praises me. He tells me, “Amis, what a good baby you are!” with genuine love in his voice, looking me in the eyes with his beautiful amber brown eyes.  I wiggle in delight; I have performed well, and he is happy with me, that is all that matters. I am learning that when asked to do things that hurt or make me feel sick inside, I must endure them for the ultimate reward afterwards: love and affection. Father Carlotti holds me against his strong, warm chest for a while, then takes me to one of the female fathers to be nursed.

I have already learned that when I don’t perform as asked, I will be punished with even more pain, such as being held upside down by my legs, and whipped with a small but very painful whip. I prefer hugs and praise, so I do what I am asked to do, almost always. I am considered “programmable” and not “difficult” or “resistant” as some babies are, as I learn about when I am older and hear the fathers discussing different babies in the nurseries, categorizing this among other qualities. I also learn when allowed to watch the fathers as an older child that babies who are considered not “programmable” or “too difficult” get slated to be the infant or toddler that dies in various scenarios. But at this young age, I still don’t know these things. I work hard to gain the smile and affection from the fathers, which is what they want – for me to perform in order to earn their love and approval.

I am five months old, a vigorous, healthy, happy, active baby. I can already sit up and crawl, and am practicing standing up. I also am able to speak some very simple two-word phrases, and understand my trainers when they speak with me. Father Mattheo, the father I love most of all, comes to my crib. He has some equipment that he hooks me up to, and inwardly I flinch, although outwardly I smile. This is equipment to shock me with, and I am already familiar with it.

He then calls out Amis, and some of the parts that she oversees inside, including Charté, a part that has been previously split from her. As he sexually stimulates Charté with his finger, he also applies mild, but painful, shock at the same time. I have learned not to flinch away from shocks, although internally I am upset at the pairing of what I have associated with “love” with this new pain. I can’t help myself; salty tears run down my cheeks, but I don’t flail or try to get away.

Mattheo continues doing this for five minutes, telling Charté over and over, “Love is pain. Love is pain. You love pain, it shows love.

Ernste Frage: UND DA wollt ihr immer noch Christus als euren Helden hirnludln!!!?

” Afterwards, he stops the shocks, and holds her tenderly, saying, “You are a good baby, and I love you.” Charté , while still upset, is glad that this was not a punishment, as shocks can be. He then looks into her young baby eyes, and says, “You must learn to do this. I know it is difficult, and it makes you feel angry, but this is important, and what you are learning is very, very important. I am not doing this to you to punish you, but because I love you. Charté, you are very special for learning to do this and will be able to do great things for me and the other fathers if you learn this.” He, and the other fathers, always acknowledge the discomfort and understand the feelings, and discussing them with me and the other parts, even as infants.

Charté is learning to enjoy sadomasochistic sex, and to associate it with feelings of love, arousal, and feeling special and important. Later, she will be dissociated and reorganized into other parts who have only known these feelings, and she will oversee them as a sub-controller within Amis’s system. These skills will be used when I am older to help me do missions with individuals who prefer this type of sex, including gathering intelligence or gaining favors. These skills, learned so young, will also help me to survive the extremely painful sexual acts that I will have to endure in some of the homes of the very wealthy around the world. In the order, they do not call us “trafficked”, but “skilled”; and our being sent out for various forms of sexual abuse from earliest childhood are considered “missions” for the order. 

But deep inside, I feel violated and angry. This is abuse, and my little baby heart and mind know it, even though all of the adults around me treat this as normal, and model it in their own lives. I have learned to hide my anger, but it is there, simmering deep inside. While I love the fathers who rock me, hold me, nurse me and love me, I also hate them with a deep, white-hot hatred.

One thing that the scene above illustrates is that even in infancy, the Jesuit programmers acknowledged how their abuse made me feel. They could tell, by my reactions, the look in my eyes. But then they normalized it within a framework of something that must be done in order to successfully complete missions, as necessary to show my love for them. The Jesuit fathers were masters at manipulating my infant need to attach and maintain a loving bond with them and used it to get me to accept their abuse. The Jesuit programmers understood that a child – even an infant – will do much more for love than in response to any amount of torture, and used this knowledge on me and the other infants I grew up with, just as it was used against them, continuing the cycle of abuse and its normalization generation after generation.

During my own healing, it was a struggle for Amis, Charté and other parts to realize that they had even been abused, since this was “love” to them, the only love they had ever known. They wondered what all the fuss was about when they wanted to continue their activities, even after I left the group, and became aware of their activities and wants that put us in extreme danger. I was quite surprised when Charté came out early in my healing journey, offering to sit on my therapist’s lap and give him rough sex; I was also saddened realizing that she had been pushed out by another part inside who wanted to disrupt and distract from what I had been talking about with this therapist. Talking to these parts using logic didn’t help. Holding them inside, spending time with them, and showing them other forms of love and experiences that were not sexual helped more.

I will be posting some excerpts from my autobiography, part 1, Never Give Up here. Below is more of Chapter 1.

Bonding to the Fathers

As an infant, each day was broken up into programming, training, comfort, rest, play times and attachment/bonding time on a strictly regimented schedule in the facility nursery. The fathers in the order were experts in child development and were careful to balance training (which was gentle, and filled with praise very early on, with only mild punishments if any for inability to perform in the early weeks) with nurture. They realized that if a child was not given enough nurture, they could develop psychopathic tendencies, would be less controllable (since love is the greatest motivator), and would show other pathologies in psychological or physical development. They knew this because of the failed programming methods used in the early 1900s, when the children were not given enough nurturing and failed to attach to a loving adult caregiver: many had to be “put down” later as they developed severe psychopathic tendencies, to the point of killing the trainers that they did not love, without a twinge of regret.

Oh, how carefully the fathers monitored and doled out “love” to us infants, and we came to look expectantly for that special time each day with the “fathers we loved”. Each infant had three primary fathers they bonded with, along with nine others who were also important to their emotional development and training. I loved three special fathers the most: Father Mattheo, Father Jerome, and Father Carlotti. I was also very closely bonded to Father John, an older female trainer, and Father Daniel, a female trainer who also nursed me and filled the “mother” role in my life. Females upon becoming a Jesuit father took on male names, so this was considered normal in the Order. The Jesuits always had several trainers that bonded closely to each infant, since they realized that otherwise, if an infant bonded to only one individual and that individual died, the baby or child would be at a huge risk for failure to thrive, or would be basically un-programmable. They learned this, also, from the failures of the early 1900s, when some children bonded to only one primary trainer, who died. Data was collected on these children, and they kept it in their huge library of training materials and information, as well as coded into a huge computer database that could be accessed with a simple series of codes and voice commands for those authorized to do so.

So I, and the other infants I was raised with, bonded to the fathers we loved. But the fathers I loved also tortured me and the other babies.  Infancy and childhood was a strange mix of torture and being held and rocked lovingly; being nursed by the same individual who later sexually abused me.

I am just a few months old, and angry about the pain the fathers inflict upon me. I feel sullen. While I have been trained to look up and smile when the fathers come into the nursery, today, I turn away. I turn my back on these men and women who bring me daily pain. It is Father Carlotti who comes by my crib, and sees my angry turning away.

“You cannot act this way,” he tells me curtly in Italian. “You are being a bad baby to act this way, and must be punished.”

He then goes and gets a couple of wrist holders and straps. He places the wrist holders around my chubby wrists, and then as punishment hangs me by my arms from the side of my crib. This hurts terribly, I feel as if my small arms which do not yet have the muscles and ligaments to take this, are being wrenched out of their sockets. The muscles burn as they are stretched. My arms do pull out of their sockets and I scream in pain.

Carlotti repeats, “This is what happens to bad babies who turn away, and don’t turn and hold their arms up.” He holds me with one hand, releasing my wrists with his other, and assesses me for the extent of the physical damage. He takes me to a healing room, and uses technology to put the arms back into their shoulder sockets, and to heal the joints and ligaments that have been so painfully stretched.

“Don’t do this again,” he warns. I don’t.

I came to hate and fear that phrase, “bad baby”, used by Mengele and the fathers, as something to avoid at all costs. “Bad babies” cried, turned away from, and kicked at their programmers, and did not greet them with an unfailing smile. “Bad babies” were allowed one or two chances, but after that,” bad babies” were hung on hooks from the nursery ceiling until they died, or were seen in “hell” later that day, being whipped to death by “demons” (children in costumes). We all learned to be “good babies”: compliant and programmable, and never to show how we really felt about how we were being treated. We were taught to send that anger down into an “anger pit” filled with anger-holding parts inside; this rage would then be directed at other objects, such as Christians, outsiders, and most importantly, ourselves.

This inability to show my feelings at the person who caused them fostered intense dissociation which the fathers had already carefully conditioned me to rely on while in the womb and during the early weeks after birth. I already had the structure in place to ‘dissociate away’ into designated parts the angry feelings out of my fear of punishment for “bad babies” and to focus on performing well and being a “good baby”.

In the memory above, I also mention the healing rooms. The programming facility had state-of-the-art healing technologies that even over sixty years ago were far ahead of what is commercially available to healthcare providers currently. There were vats filled with saline and electrolyte/mineral solutions of various types, with various types of frequencies to promote healing, and even artificial skin that when lit with a red light would help new skin to grow rapidly. Because of the ongoing, physical abuse, these technologies were necessary to prevent permanent scarring or disability for the children being programmed, as well as older children and adults who might come back injured from dangerous or strenuous missions, or who might be accidentally injured during training and military exercises.

The Drawer

I am a few months old, and I am upset. Father Jerome is taking out the wires and electrodes that I have come to hate; wires and electrodes that cause sharp, biting pain with the electric shocks that they conduct. I don’t want this! When he tries to put the electrodes on me, I kick and squirm and wiggle away, struggling to avoid these stinging wires being placed on me.

“This type of behavior can’t be allowed. Be still!” he commands sternly.

But I am not still. I disobey him, for I am still very small, and do not know yet what can be done to ensure compliance. His command instills less fear in me than the fear that the memory of shocks that sting like bees, shocks that cause terrible, burning pain. I don’t want to be hurt, so I continue to resist, arching my back in protest and screaming.

Father Jerome stops, then takes a key hanging around his neck, and with it, opens a small drawer. This drawer has padding on the bottom and sides. He picks me up, saying, “You will experience utter darkness, the hell reserved for disobedience such as this.” He then places me into the drawer, and slides it shut it with a loud “click”.

It is utterly dark and soundless in this drawer. I can breathe, but there is no light, no noise, nothing. It is quiet, and I am afraid. I wait to see what will happen.

Time passes, and I am frightened and hungry. I cry and cry with ever louder wails, but no one hears. My diaper is wet and filled with stool, and I am afraid. No one can see or hear me in this place; no one is there to take care of me. I am a little baby, and I know that I will die if no one takes care of me.  I depend on the adults around me for everything. And now, there is…nothing. Just black darkness. I am terrified.

Time passes, where I alternate between loud screams of terror, and soft whimpers. Finally, I am too exhausted to cry any longer. I fall asleep.

I am very sleepy; maybe I will never wake up. I am starting to feel very far away and strange, as if my body is getting smaller and further away. Maybe this is what dying is like. It feels like a long time has passed, and I am resigned to being here forever, and dying.

Suddenly, I hear the drawer slide open. There is a light, much too bright for my eyes which have been in complete darkness for so long, even though it is just the dim light that is on in the nursery at night.

Father Jerome is there, and I am frantic, desperate for him to take me out of this terrible, terrible box. “Will you obey me now?” he asks, looking me in the eyes. He sees the terror and pleading in them, and lifts me out of the box of terror, of abandonment.

He holds me for awhile, close to his chest, then gives me part of a bottle. I drink, but keep looking at his eyes the whole times, frantic for him to respond to my frantic terror and need for him to not leave me alone. Later, he takes me into a white room with a rocking chair, and rocks me for a period of time. Finally, I relax and rest awhile.

The next morning, Father Jerome returns, comes to my crib, and tries to put the electrodes on me. I do not struggle or resist this time.

These drawers are reserved as punishment for resisting being programmed, and being placed in one was one of the cruelest tortures that I experienced as an infant. The sense of utter abandonment and terror was overwhelming, but it also ensured compliance in an infant that comes to realize that emotional survival depends upon obedience to what the trainers demand, no matter how difficult.

Learning to Crawl Towards Colored Lights

I am a baby, able to crawl but not able to do much else, yet. After all, I am only three months old. I am on the smooth floor of one of the programming labs. I have been told to wait. Suddenly, I hear six notes played in a specific sequence. Simultaneously, a code is flashed in front of me on a large overhead screen: it is a black and white pattern in a specific configuration meant to bring out a specific part. I have already learned to bring the correct parts out when different tones and patterns are shown to me during the previous first few weeks of life, and have become quite good at it, to the pleased smiles and “good girl!” comments from the fathers I love. This ability to make them so happy makes me coo and wiggle with joy.

Now, a part loyal to the Jesuit Order is out, and a green light, about the size of a traffic light, shines down the smooth tunnel I am crawling through as I crawl towards this light. The tunnel is bathed in the green light, as Cerachnid-1, a cult-loyal presenter, is learning that green is her color, just as the tone sequence and pattern are hers. This task is fun, and when Cerachnid reaches the light, she is given a piece of soft fruit as a special treat by Father Jerome, a man in his early 20s who already has white hair that looks beautiful with his clear blue eyes.

“Cerachnid, you did well,” he tells her. Jerome then picks me up in his strong arms and cuddles me against the soft folds of his lab uniform. “Cerachnid, you are so special for being able to do this,” he says, and Cerachnid wiggles with delight at the praise in his voice. “I love you,” Jerome tells her. “I am glad that you had fun doing this.” During this early part of training, there are lots of rewards and hugs when Cerachnid and other parts perform well, doing simple tasks such as recognizing cues to come out; recognizing their special colors, and obeying the trainers.

Punishments will come later on after this first, primary belief is instilled deeply: obedience to cues brings feelings of love, security, joy, and is even “fun”.

It is a month later. Cerachnid has been performing very well, but now something very important happens to her. Cerachnid undergoes extremely severe pain, being told ahead what will happen. The fathers always tell parts when pain is going to happen, they never hide this fact.

Cerachnid cannot endure this pain, and her mind starts dissociating from it, creating new little babies from herself. These new parts are quickly given names as each comes out; a code specific to them is flashed on the screen above her, and these new cult loyal parts split from Cerachnid become the system parts that she will oversee and eventually learn to control.

“You must keep these parts safe, Cerachnid,” Father Jerome tells her. She understands what “safe” means; it means making sure that they obey and believe everything they are told. Her job is make sure that they obey and believe; this is the only “safe” that she and others inside have experienced.

Cerachnid will eventually learn to forget that these other parts originally came from her, and instead, will see herself as protecting them from “further harm” (going through the agonizing pain, pain that made her feel as if she was dying, of her original splitting memory). She is told that she can only keep them “safe” by ensuring that they are always “good” by being obedient to programming cues and commands. Her desire to protect these parts dissociated from herself from experiencing further pain and trauma actually reflects the deep, instinctive self-love that all babies have for themselves, which the programmers are counting upon as they cause her and  other primary controller parts to dissociate and then re-organize into subsidiary, system parts.

It is several weeks later, and I am four and a half months old. Cerachnid is taken to a special room in the programming lab. There is a huge tree pattern laid out on the floor, with a trunk, roots, branches and leaves. She has already met “Gnossis” (the tree of knowledge), a woman dressed in a tree costume, who visited her crib numerous times over the past few months, and explained to her who she is. Cerachnid now sees the face of this woman embedded in the center of the tree, inlaid with the bark, and wiggles with recognition.

“Cerachnid, it is time for you to learn where you live on the tree,” the soft, beautiful voice says. “Come to your place.” At that moment, a special pattern (Cerachnid’s code), a small green light and the musical sequence play on a specific branch, close to the trunk. Cerachnid is guided by the trainer to this spot, and she sits.

“This is where you will live,” says the soft voice of the tree. “This is your special place where you can feel safe; if you leave your special place, you and those you protect and help – your system – will be unsafe”. The trainer then comes and hugs Cerachnid, and gives her a soft, sweet rusk to suck on. They spend time in peaceful activity, while one limb of the tree slowly strokes Cerachnid’s back and the trainer murmurs loving words to her. After a few minutes, the trainer calls out another part whose job is to not remember the programming session, Cerachnid goes back in, and the trainer picks me up and carries me out of the lab. I have no memory of what happened inside the lab; only Cerachnid will remember learning her place on the tree.

This gentle, loving scene is repeated numerous times over the next few weeks for Cerachnid and other system controllers, until each one understands their “place” on the tree; my system controllers are major branches, with their system parts the outlying twigs, and programs (leaves) that branch out from them.

It is not until this program, and the deep feeling of love and safety for going to the correct place on the tree, and remaining there, is instilled, that the punishments for leaving the designated place or disobedience are installed. For the rest of her life, Cerachnid will always seek to return to that initial sense of peace, safety and being loved that underpinned her programming. And for her, this means complete, unquestioning obedience and belief in what her trainers tell her.

The above memory illustrates how the Jesuit trainers use a combination of concrete, physical structures and activities for their training of infants and young children, combined with rewards and punishments to ensure that expected behaviors will be instilled. But this, like all programming, will often rest upon an earlier, primary memory, of a time when the controller was loved and felt safe; in essence, a “resting place” that the controller will always try to return to whenever possible. The trainers provide a framework for the only way this feeling of security and attachment can be attained: being programmable, and obedient to the programs being installed by the trainers.