I Am Pilgrim Read Online Free PDF Page A

saidshewasavice-presidentwiththeRandCorporation–cametoHarvardandtalkedtopromising
    younggraduates.
    I had studied medicine for three years, majoring in the pharmacology of drugs – and I mean majoring.BydayIlearnedaboutthemintheory;onweekendsItookafarmorehands-onapproach.It was while visiting a doctor in Boston, having read up on the symptoms of fibromyalgia and convincinghimtowritemeaprescriptionforVicodin,thatIhadanepiphany.
    Say it was real, say right now it was me behind that desk dealing with the ailments – real and imagined–ofthepatientsIhadbeenquietlyobservinginthewaitingroom.
    Irealizeditwasn’twhatafflictedpeoplethatinterestedme,itwaswhatmotivatedthem.Idropped outofmedicine,enrolledinpsychology,graduated magnacumlaude andwasclosetocompletingmy doctorate.
    Assoonasitwasfinished,theladyintheshortskirtwasofferingtwicethestartingsalaryofany otheremployerandwhatappearedtobealmostlimitlessopportunitiesforresearchandadvancement.
    As a result, I spent six months writing reports that would never be read, designing questionnaires never to be answered, before I discovered I wasn’t really working for Rand at all. I was being observed,auditioned,assessedandchecked.Suddenly,ShortSkirtwasn’tanywheretobefound.
    Instead, two men – hard men – I had never seen before, or since, took me to a secure room in a nondescriptbuildingonanindustrialestatejustnorthofCIAheadquartersinLangley,Virginia.They mademesignaseriesofformsforbiddinganykindofdisclosurebeforetellingmethatIwasbeing
    consideredforapositioninaclandestineintelligenceservicewhichtheyrefusedtoname.
    Istaredatthem,askingmyselfwhytheywouldhavethoughtofme.ButifIwashonest,Iknewthe
    answer.Iwasaperfectcandidateforthesecretworld.Iwassmart,IhadalwaysbeenalonerandIwas damageddeepinmysoul.
    MyfatherwalkedoutbeforeIwasbornandwasneverseenagain.Severalyearslater,mymother
    wasmurderedinherbedroominourapartmentjustoff8-MileRoadinDetroit.LikeIsaid,thereare someplacesIwillrememberallmylife.
    Anonlychild,IfinallywashedupwithadoptiveparentsinGreenwich,Connecticut–twentyacres
    ofmanicuredlawns,thebestschoolsmoneycouldbuy,thequietesthouseyou’veeverknown.Their
    familyseeminglycomplete,IguessBillandGraceMurdochtriedtheirbest,butIcouldneverbethe sontheywanted.
    Achildwithoutparentslearnstosurvive;theyworkoutearlytomaskwhattheyfeeland,ifthepain provesbeyondbearing,todigacaveintheirheadandhideinside.TotheworldatlargeItriedtobe whatIthoughtBillandGracewanted,andendedupbeingastrangertothemboth.
    SittinginthatroomoutsideLangley,Irealizedthattakingonanotheridentity,maskingsomuchof whoyouareandwhatyoufeel,wasidealtrainingforthesecretworld.
    Intheyearsthatfollowed–theonesIspentsecretlytravellingtheworldunderascoreofdifferent names – I have to say the best spooks I ever met had learned to live a double life long before they joinedanyagency.
    They included closeted men in a homophobic world, secret adulterers with wives in the suburbs, gamblersandaddicts,alcoholicsandperverts.Whatevertheirburden,theywerealllong-practisedat making the world believe in an illusion of themselves. It was only a small step to put on another disguiseandservetheirgovernment.
    I guess the two hard men sensed something of that in me. Finally they got to the part of their questioningthatdealtwithillegality.‘Tellusaboutdrugs,’theysaid.
    IrememberedwhatsomebodyoncesaidaboutBillClinton–henevermetawomanhedidn’tlike.I
    figured it wouldn’t be helpful to tell them I felt the same way about drugs. I denied even a passing knowledge,thankfulIhadneveradoptedtherecklesslifestylethatusuallyaccompaniestheiruse.I’d madeitasecretlifeandkeptithiddenbyfollowingmyownrules–Ionlyevergotfuckedupalone,I didn’ttryandscoreatbarsorclubs,Ifiguredpartydrugswereforamateurs,andtheideaofdriving aroundanopen-airdrugmarketsoundedlikearecipetogetshot.
    Itworked–Ihadneverbeenarrestedorquestionedaboutit–andso,havingalreadysuccessfully
    lived one secret life, it now gave me the confidence to embrace another. When they stood up and