I’m up late, trying to get some work done, and a male voice that recently joined the Albany mobbing has laid into me. I don’t have any roommates right now, so there’s no danger of anyone else hearing them. I’m calling it a “male voice” because while there do seem to be a few new men helping their brethren out by having a go at me, mobbers don’t let their victims see them as they commit their bad acts. That would make it easier to put 2 and 2 together. This means I don’t always know who is “on shift”; they count on tactics like these to abuse their victims with impunity. Some of them also adopt the techniques of “black hats” (hacking criminals) and use synthetic voices to speak their hate. But no matter the voices, the increased activity is typical for Thursday night when their weeks are winding down. So I am typing out another tiny story of mobbing to give them something to read, if they can read anyway.
It was the second time they woke me this morning, I think, a waking less than intentional. I heard a fragment of the conversation: “… probably some phlegm in her throat,” and realized they were talking about me.
The voices quieted as though some mic had been withdrawn from my environment. The mobbing never stopped. By the time I heard the words it was too late to recognize the speaker but it made me remember a similar exchange earlier this year. I was having fits of coughing and I’d heard a familiar voice reassuring another over some early morning call, “She’s probably got something caught in her throat.” The opinion was rendered; the mobbing went on.
