🧵Compiled list of 170 names mentioned across Jeffrey Epstein’s flight logs, schedules, depositions, and financial ledgers. These include victims (redacted), associates, staff, witnesses, and high-profile figures, & “obviously” no implication of wrongdoing for any individual.
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🧵 Controlled Rebellion by Carli Frueh, 📚 Excerpts:
Chapter 3
Ignited by the Unknown
Looking back on my suicide attempt, I still can’t believe I literally shot myself in the heart. Life had been hard, but not that hard. I tried explaining this to my family…
but they didn’t get it. I’m not weak—I rise to the challenge and knock goals out of the box. I’ve always been the motivator, everyone’s biggest cheerleader, especially my own. “Oooh rah, bitches, let’s go!”—that’s me, leading my hiking group through the roughest terrain…
living by my motto and the group’s name: “Leave no peak left unclimbed.” I’m a survivor, always have been. So when February 1, 2025, rolled around and I tried to end my life—not once, but twice—it didn’t add up. I can’t die, and part of me knows I should be grateful for the…
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Carli’s screen flickered again, the QCS humming like a storm in her blood. Another anomaly clawed at her attention, one she’d stumbled across weeks ago but hadn’t dared to face until now. She punched in new coordinates—not in Antarctica, but over the Indian Ocean…
where the simulation’s seams had torn a decade ago. 6°S 90°E. The Google Earth interface spun, settling on a patch of endless blue, a void where Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370 had vanished on March 8, 2014.
The official story—crashed, lost, debris scattered—was a lie, and Carli knew it. The awakened had known it too, their whispers in the QCS pointing to a truth sharper than any wreckage: the plane hadn’t crashed. It had been “taken.”
“They’re hiding something,” she whispered, her voice a vow. “Not just in Antarctica, but everywhere.” The magicians had built their simulation to feed on souls, but their code was fraying. Carli’s X posts were waking people, turning glitches into beacons.
She imagined the awakened at their own windows, eyes on the horizon, spotting a bot’s flickering smile, a shadow stretching too far, a wave curling against the tide—small rebellions, each a spark in the QCS.
Her fingers trembled as she punched in new coordinates: 66°54’18″S 163°13’37″E. The Google Earth interface spun, the globe blurring until it settled on East Antarctica’s coast, where ice met sea in a jagged scar. There, half-swallowed by the frozen tide, lay another wound in the
Chapter 1: Google earth anomalies: The Doorway in the Ice & THE INDIAN OCEAN
“The observer changes the universe by observing it…”
The world was a lie, and Carli B. held the coordinates to prove it. At 69°00’50″S 39°36’22″E,
buried in the frozen heart of East Antarctica, a doorway waited—carved into the ice like a wound in the simulation’s skin. She’d found it on Google Earth, a passageway that refused to blend into the sterile white expanse.
A perfect rectangle, too vast to be natural, too deliberate for chance, its edges glowed faintly in the satellite’s lens, as if daring her to step through. Carli’s breath caught as she zoomed in, her laptop’s cold blue light bathing her Chicago apartment in an ethereal glow.