I AWOKE EARLY THIS MORNING with a migraine, burning through the soft and comfortable walls of my sleep. Last night was a quiet one, so I have no reason to think this headache is one not given to me by Our Lady of the Jungle. A small reminder from the Lady that I am hers, that every waking moment, she is in control. It is in this way that she reminds all of her followers of her power over us. Nothing is an accident. Nothing is without cause, and that cause is always Our Lady.

Tonight will not be nearly so quiet as the one before it. I am to meet with an agent of The Network, the fiber cables that connect each and every one of Our Lady of the Jungle's squads together, and ensure that we are all accomplishing our assigned tasks with aplomb. No less than the best will be tolerated in the service of Our Lady.

On mornings like this one, breezy and light, I feel a deep longing. I'm not sure what for. I am sure these feelings are unnatural, put there by Our Lady of the Jungle to see what kind of mind I am. It is Her Will in some instances to implant ideas, thoughts, and feelings into the heads of Her subjects so as to weed out the ones who would rebel against her.

I am no such fool.

I've been serving Our Lady for fifteen years now. I have seen many rebels fall. I am not one of them, however much I may wish to be. I believe that I can do more good from where I now stand, in service to Our Lady, collecting and dispensing information to those who need it. I have seen a great deal. I know a great deal.

I can share a great deal.

There is no danger in this for me. Our Lady concedes to her subjects small pleasures, small wants, to keep them from rebellion. Our Lady previously attempted total, utter control, and was met with far more resistance than was conducive to the effective execution of Her orders. So it is that, this morning, I found myself plagued with an incredibly painful migraine and a desire to explain a little about myself and my reasons for operating this blog.

I find that I have failed somewhat in the latter, though. The longing I feel has not dissipated any since I awoke, though my migraine has. I've nothing more to say, or nothing I can think of to say that would cease this nagging feeling any.

This weekend is going to be a long one. I can feel it.

THE HALL where we meet is small, dimly lit, with rich mahogany walls and grey carpeting. It is a hall in the old sense of the word, a place for meals and a place to discuss our business.

In our Hall, business is the planning, organization, and execution of orders which are passed down to us from our Lady of the Jungle. Our branch specifically deals with conversions; we bring new servants to Our Lady so that they may come under her power. It is a delicate, sometimes difficult process, but always we press on. We have no other choice, being under Our Lady's power.

Our Hall is where we, the servants of the Lady of the Jungle, truly receive the most rest from our day-to-day activities. Except on those days when Our Lady chooses to pay us a visit, we relax and enjoy each other's presence. In the Hall, Our Lady prefers us to be more lucid so as to better carry out her orders. So it is that, in the Hall, we have time to commiserate with each other until such a time as fresh orders arrive. The chatter in our Hall is always quiet, somber, but warm. We are all friends here, even those of us who don't like each other very much. We have to be, or else we would have been dead a long time ago, I think.

For us, the servants of the Lady of the Jungle, relief comes in the Hall and the Hall alone. It is the only home we have, now.