The Remarkable Tale of Dr. Hirsch and His Other Daughter

“The salvation of man is through love and in love.”
– Holocaust survivor Viktor Emil Frankl

Once upon a time there was a tormented, cruel soul called Dr. Seymour Hirsch. He was tall and handsome, and often terrifying. He had special skills one could almost call wizardry, but it came from a very dark place, and these arts were held as powerful secrets in the world Dr. Hirsch inhabited. Carefully, carefully kept secrets. The consequence of revealing information about this world was sometimes death. Dr. Hirsch could turn children into human robots through the use of torture and post-hypnotic suggestion. These robots could perform any number of functions to meet his own needs, and to meet the needs of the brotherhoods, (or their official agencies) with which he was affiliated. In fact, he could even create many separate robots within one human child.

Over time, this diabolical craft had been perfected to the point where thousands of children had been thus split, trained and commodified, exponentially enriching and empowering these secret organizations. Masters of these arts were sometimes powerful members of their corrupt networks, and those with high status in these syndicates were often also influential, wealthy members of the world most of the population roams in somnambulent ignorance of this underworld’s existence. But because, at the time of our story, Dr. Hirsch was a fugitive from his vile past, (another tale, best left to other story-tellers) his influence and eminence were limited to the dark side. As a fugitive, and a member of a secret class, the doctor went by many different names; “Dr. Seymour Hirsch” was not his real name.

One day this doctor bought a little girl from her stepfather, also a member of the brotherhood. He took her to a hospital in a different country, and worked his craft on her until she was inhabited by many, many robots, most of whom would live their lives as slaves to the brotherhood and to the government that had provided Dr. Hirsch safe haven. She traveled the world with him, often as his daughter. The part of her he originally bought didn’t realize her mind had been divided into multiple separate compartments. In fact, because of her stepfather’s cruelty, and because she was born to members of the same secret society, she had been subdivided long before she was sold to him.

When she was sent out to do work and it didn’t go as planned, she was sent back to Dr. Hirsch to be “re-tooled.” Sometimes she was sent to “compliance centers.” Many other doctors within this brotherhood worked on her, too. She was sent to special training camps, and learned foreign languages. Dr. Hirsch made sure she had several robots within her system who could speak his native language, German. He was very bright, and his English was impeccable.

This girl, like the many thousands of other children caught up in the vortex of this system, had a very hard life. She was transported all over the country, and sometimes abroad, to be programmed, processed, stored, trained and tested. The vast network of cover facilities included farms, military bases, universities, hospitals, prisons, and private industrial spaces. Sometimes private homes served as staging centers. Temples, underground facilities, amusement parks and museums were also used as programming sites. She was sent out on horrendous mission after horrendous mission. When her work for the brotherhood was done, she was sent back to her original home, and switched back to her original self.

In time, this girl grew to be a young woman, and bore the doctor a baby girl. She, too, would fall victim to his evil ways, and right from the start this beautiful angel was taken from her mother’s loving arms and disappeared into the realm of the corrupt brotherhoods. Her mother’s alter-selves were eventually brought into contact with her, but only at the whim of the brotherhood, and only to fulfill their exclusive agenda.

As the years went by, Hirsch’s robot’s native self married, had children, and became, above all else, a devoted mother. Well, as Robert Burns once wrote, even “the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,” and as she grew older, her enslaved selves began to leak out around the edges of her dreams and days, and she began to remember, at long last, her life with her tormentors.

Years of remembering and grieving followed: memories of having been sadistically tortured by many different means, memories of other children being tortured and murdered, and memories of executions, assassinations and massacres. She soon realized she had cheated death many times, and she was grateful to be alive. But the pain that accompanied her re-emerging experiences was sometimes almost unbearable. Her profound love of her children sustained her through it all.

One day she happened upon a photo of the man she had known, among other names, as “Dr. Hirsch.” This image brought with it a torrent of emotion, and she now knew, at long last, his true identity. A few weeks later, another memory would erupt and bring with it overwhelming anguish and deep sorrow. She remembered her beloved daughter.

“Chi ha la mamma sua non piange mai”
– Italian proverb

Having also been fractured from an early age, her daughter had many parts, with many names. This made it very difficult for her mother to find her. She did the best she could, and hoped that her daughter was also able to search for her. She wrote her daughter a letter and sent it out into the world – a message in a bottle, a token of hope’s triumph over despair:

My dearest Isabella,

Wherever you are, know that I love you unconditionally and completely. If you are angry at me for abandoning you, know now that your fate was tragically out of my control from the moment you were born. If you are feeling fearful that you will once again be abandoned if you reach out for me, I can assure you that that would not happen. If you are feeling hopeless and defeated, have faith. Have heart. I am here, your siblings are here, your home is here.

I have faith that innate qualities that helped sustain me through my own horrific past are alive in you, and will carry you through. I know you have lived in hell. You had the great misfortune of being born to a horribly wounded man, and a sleepwalking robot of a mother. I have to believe you are still out there somewhere, and that you know somewhere in your heart you are my cherished daughter.

I know what kinds of lies our perpetrators put into our heads. You are not alone. You are not an orphan. You are not evil. You are not any of the things your programmers wired you to believe you were, in order to serve their own ends. You are not responsible for the dark deeds your body and mind were commandeered to commit. If you have made regrettable decisions in your life, we can work through the consequences together.

You are lovable and beloved. You deserve happiness, respect and freedom. Remember that those who would have you abandon all hope and force you to dream their dreams have also been denied these things themselves. But you can leap beyond the lies, beyond these grave misfortunes, to something so much better.

Please find the courage to find me. If you are still surrounded by darkness, please let me help you “to get back up to the shining world from there,” to quote Dante. Amelia Earhart said, “Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.” May you be courageous and may your hope for a better life never die. May you find peace. May you one day find your way back into my loving arms, and wherever you may be, may love always, always abide.

– Your devoted mother

As Dr. Hirsch grew older, his influence in the underworld began to fade, and in the end, although he was still wealthy, he died a lost, and at times confused old man. Interest in him in normal society hinged on his early days as a notorious war criminal.

“As we are liberated from our own fears, our presence automatically liberates others.”
– Mahatma Gandhi

His longtime slave never saw their daughter again. Her heart disintegrated the day she remembered that Isabella had died. When she recovered from the shock and grief enough to regain a sense of purpose, she realized that she must do everything in her power to help end the suffering of so many innocent people. She was well aware of the brotherhoods’ stranglehold on power and wealth in the world, and she knew first-hand the kinds of destructive resources they had at their disposal. But she also knew there were thousands more like her who had been ruthlessly enslaved by these sadistic monsters, and exploited by their syndicates. She knew that the power of love, as trite an insight as it might seem, truly was mightier than the greed and brutality of those who had taken so much from her. And so she sent her second “message in a bottle,” a token of love’s triumph over fear, out into the world:

To fellow survivors of systematic torture at the hands of members of secret societies and their shadow governments:

I write this in the sorrow-filled spirit of a mother bereft of her beloved child, but with the determination of a formerly powerless slave. Consider this my call to arms, a call to open arms.

In spite of all of the suffering we have endured and witnessed, all of the gross injustices with which we’ve had to make our peace, I invite you to dig deep into your reserves for still more courage and compassion. Because this battle against tyranny can only be won, in the end, by embracing the wounded, and awakening our unconscious fellow travelers from their dark dreams.

The invisible Holocaust cannot be abolished by ever-escalating ruthlessness, the hallmark of the realms of the ruling elite. As former cognitive slaves, former victims of the dark arts, we can help to deliver the countless other victims from their unconscious compliance and complicity through truth-telling and true compassion. We can hold up a lantern for the next generation because we were fortunate enough to have found our way out of the darkness. We can help break the spell because we understand how it was cast: through unspeakable terror and deceit. We know from our own direct experience that terror and deceit can be trumped by compassion and truth.

My daughter lived her nineteen years in a special hell sometimes euphemistically called “altered awareness” by her father and his brethren, who created it. It was also referred to as “behavior modification,” “mind control,” and “brainwashing.” She endured a life, the only life she ever knew, of being flipped between chapters of grim and gruesome fairy-tales constructed by madmen. She had been whisked between dream worlds designed to better exploit every aspect of her being – her beauty, her intelligence, every gift and talent she possessed. 

I humbly invite you to join me in my efforts to ensure that she and thousands of other victims of these dark realms didn’t die in vain. I invite you to remember and honor these poor souls by summoning the strength to leap beyond your fears and anguish to reach out to those still stumbling through their days as etherized agents of heartless manipulators, or suffering the torment of ritualized torture as I write these words. Together we can help put an end to this insidious reign of terror.

Please find the courage to find other survivors. Please honor the courage, the heart, and the unyielding faith it took for the child in you to deliver you back into an authentic life by sharing your story, your wisdom, and hope for a better, kinder world. Many of us know victims still trapped in the fog of the brotherhoods’ dominion. We can help revive them with resolute patience, empathy and faith. We can walk through their black wilderness with open arms, and embody the gentle guide who never came for us. We have the power.

May you find peace. May you one day soon come to the end of your own suffering and grieving and forgive yourself completely, and may love always, always abide.

– Your devoted fellow survivor


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