I have had a feeling for a while, but I didn't know how, or even what, I needed to express. I have talked before about being watched, and about being followed. Today, I had this realisation, that there are some people here in Hellsborough that I see all too frequently. Every day, no matter where I roam, I see at least one of them, usually more than one.

The most I think I have seen on one day is four -- but I could be wrong, and maybe there are seven, not six, sometimes it's difficult to remember. Sometimes they will stop and chat with me, like they want to know me better, yet I think they know me already. I have had this vision, the six (or seven) are seated around a round table and I am beneath, trapped, unable to get out. They have me surrounded. I am naked. I have no weapons and no way to protect myself, I am vulnerable.

They could kick me in this cage, but they don't. Above the table, they are all confident and communicate their plans, I hear their talk and their chatter -- It is friendly and lulls me into a sense of security. But I know it's not right. I don't know what to do, I am in a state of panic. I am frozen, unable to move. It is fright or flight, but I am in fright mode, I cannot move for the wall that prevents my escape.

I want to refer to them as the denizens as the hex -- there being six of them (or maybe seven) -- but the denizens of the hex are something different (see the curated guide) -- but maybe these are my denizens, but it's not six, I know these are the seven, so why am I questioning it?

I know a couple of their names. One of them frequents a local bar; another works in a local shop -- and I know I'm seen whenever I go in there, like it's known I'm going to be there. Then there are the others, whose names I don't know, but I have my own names for all of them. One of them, we talked for ten long moments a few days ago -- sometimes our walkings with our barkers (Shad is a barghest, but the other is a regular barker) seems like synchronicity, then I saw them the next day from the bar walking down the Middlewood road -- no doubt, searching or looking for me. That's what I felt, anyway. I don't feel threatened, I do feel like I'm under close surveillance.

These aren't clowns though -- although I wondered if they were, but this is something else: This is about me. This is personal. This is about Pip Rippon. I've wondered if they are jellyhead stooges of The Nascenti, but I obviously have no proof one way or the other -- and why would the nascenti be that bothered about me, they wouldn't would they? I am going to watch and report on further encounters, I feel this needs to be recorded.

So I've started to record the number of times that I see the seven, to see if I can work out anything about whether they are actually watching me or whether it's my own paranoia -- which I'm not ruling out, because I know what this place is like. I started three days back, one -- but it was a Spanday, which is understandable. Two days ago -- one as well, so maybe my fears are all for nought, but then maybe they're just biding their time. I'll keep making notes. Yesterday zero. Today, one as I was out mid-afternoon, then three more in a row as I walked Shad -- all in close succession. I thought I might be on for the full 7, but the other 3 didn't materialise -- maybe they had been communicating amongst themselves and were happy they had enough reports on me for the day.

Been out and about in the off-world, it had to be done -- there was something I needed to do and something I needed to find -- something that doesn't exist in The Dark Peak. This place that I went to could have been The Dark Peak -- if The Dark Peak was surrounded by the sea. Apart from that, it was almost identical: Briar and thorn, nettle next to foxglove, gorse and purple heather. Oh, and it had a distinctly celtic vibe, but that is what it is. What was I looking for then, I hear you ask. Ah, well, that'll have to be my secret, although truth be told, I don't know why It's needed.

Being absent from Hellsborough, I expected to be seeing the seven en masse; but wrong there as well. I have seen one or two of them, but not what I expected after a prolonged abscence. But then I have noticed others. Maybe they are stand-ins, designed to throw me off-track, because I still feel I am being watched.

The squall of longleg is living up to its name this month in The Dark Peak. Usually the murk is fairly clement at this time of the year, but not this year. It's seemingly impossible to walk more than a thousand paces without getting drenched and soaked to the skin, and Shad (always with me these days), has got soaked to the bone -- or at least he would be if he had any; but his appearance is similar to any wet barker that you might chance upon.

The seven have had me a little perturbed over the last week or so. Number one, I now know does something at the Rivelin school, and at times exits to see me, yet when we pass on the road, I am ignored mostly, which I find odd; however, if I smile, I get a smile back, and that is wonderful, if unsettling as our eyes never seen to actually meet.

Number six (have I said about my numbering, I don't think I have, I'll correct that for you), seems to have an accent of some sort -- she (I am presuming) was waiting for me earlier and I plucked up the courage to confront her. Her talk was stilted, and as I said accented, and minimal, which made me think she was a incomer -- and off-worlder -- like me; she watched me for a long time, every time I turned around, her eyes were on me and then later, passing the station where you can re-charge the muscle-fibre drives, she was there again -- staring, with something that felt almost like desperation in her eyes.

Number two, seems to have gone awol -- not that my permission is needed for any absence of course -- I have no idea who the seven reports to. This one, I had ideas was maybe was clown, or a clown-human hybrid -- you know the sort, heavily tattoo'd, or patterned -- it's difficult to tell the difference. Anyway, not been seen for a number of weeks, so my suspicion is that this one has been replaced in the seven by a new one, but I have no real idea, as yet, who that might be...

Unless, ha, and I maybe know the answer to this already -- in fact, I think I do -- there's been a new dude on the scene; and he's been very chatty of late, and everywhere I seem to be. Sometimes I can be so dumb...

I was talking to one of the seven today -- number four. His barker had problems with its hips and we talked about barker health, him clearly thinking that Shad was a barker, even though -- as Van has said, his carcass hasn't bothered him for many a year passed. The timing of this "bumping into him" -- natural as it seemed, put my schedule out a little as I headed towards one of the bars on the Middlewood road, so I supposed my regular viewing of and by number one would not happen, but of course, despite things she was still there, and so I was spotted where expected, but not just when, or at the usual time. They're clever this lot, they clearly co-ordinate using the hive mind, I have no doubt; it's almost refreshing to know that my movements are monitored so closely, it makes me feel safe, somehow, being watched -- but that probably sounds weird. And then, of course, back at the bar of my destination, not only was Van there waiting with a pint, but the new number two was there as well -- with a snack for Shad, sweet.

Two of the seven monitored me today. The first smiled as I walked past with Shad. I said thank you; there was some sort of response, but I couldn't make it out. Maybe it was sarcastic, maybe it was indifference, I'm not sure, I don't grok it at the moment.

I haven’t mentioned the seven for a while. They seem to have returned to their original configuration. You must be thinking that I’m paranoid, the way I talk about being watched all the time -- in Beeley woods, by the seven -- and it's true, I am. But then that's the way of this place, I guess. That's the thing with a dystopian environment -- you're watched in Hellsborough: By the Exacid and you're monitored by the hive mind; and you never know whether a jellyhead is a Jellyhead or not. You're monitored in The Dark Peak by the organic network. You're watched everywhere, but you never know when and you never know by whom. I guess that's why being watched by the seven almost feel like a safety blanket, I almost (I said almost) feel comforted by it; it almost makes me feel safe -- safe knowing that I have "friends" looking out for me that recognise and chat with me like I am not the stranger in this strange land that I sometimes feel.

I haven't mentioned the seven for quite some time. It's as if as soon as I committed (resigned?) myself to living on this side of The Hinge, that they accepted me as who I am, and that I have some right to be here, and am no longer dangerous, and that is that. Which -- after the previous daily monitoring, and constant sightings and "bumping into's", is something of a relief, and yet, strangely, disquieting. I'm actually sat here, in the bar -- by myself for a change -- chewing my finger nails at the anxiety of it all -- am I still someone being monitored by the seven, or am I now accepted, because I am here, and the organic network can do its job and surveil me as much as is now required.

I think the latter must be true. No longer am I crossing The Hinge willy-nilly, and no longer am I bringing anything in from the off-world. I think this is what all that was about. I still don't think they know what I was bringing. So that's good. My service has not been wasted.

But enough of that. Back to the seven. It's been more than weeks in come cases, months even:

1. Seen twice since mid-Fecunder. Once running. Once with her barker and man. Not on usual schedule or route since.

2. Not seen in the months since I came here permanently. Before that, was always looking ill, maybe off sick. Or dead.

3. Still about on a weekly basis, the only one. I think I might love her. Caught her looking at me last weekend, the minx.

4. After "bumping" regularly, seen once since the nights turned dark (yes, they have daylight saving here too), nothing since, that was over a month ago now.

5. One "bumping into" several weeks ago, nothing since.

6. Two "over the other side of the road" sightings, but no pleasantries, and none of those wonderful smiles.

7. One brief wave a few weeks ago, since then, no sign.

I am in Hellsborough all the time, but the seven clearly have been given instructions to relax their observation of me. I guess that actually makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, why would the nascenti waste resources on me now that I am here all the time and the organic network can do its job -- not that it's great in Hellsborough from what I understand, but it'll pick me up in The Dark Peak when I'm out that way, and they know that I'm not too-ing and fro-ing over The Hinge, so I'm not raising any alarms, and of course, they have my communications monitored via my psycmask.

So there you have it.

Do I miss the seven? Yes, is the answer to that. They were a distraction. Now I don't have that distraction, I almost feel more lonely now that I'm here all the time than I did when I was being watched.

But I guess that sounds weird.

What's the betting that as soon as I publish this, everything changes? Like I've put my head above the parapet.