The phone rang. Her mother, who had also joined Scientology years after Karen, said: “The church told me to disconnect from you. So I can’t talk to you anymore. Goodbye.” Click.
One night, she watched Going Clear , the HBO documentary based on Lawrence Wright’s book. She had to hide in a friend’s apartment — a “blow” (escapee) who had fled the church.
It’s now three years later. Karen lives in a small apartment in Portland. She writes again — not screenplays, but a blog about coercive control. She has not reconciled with her mother, but she has learned that “clear” was never a state of being. It was a product. Searching for- going clear scientology and the ...
She continued, but the magic was broken. The “wins” became mechanical. She noticed the forced smiles, the relentless fundraising, the Sea Org members (the monastic clergy) looking hollow-eyed from 100-hour weeks. Then she found a bootlegged copy of a book called Bare-Faced Messiah — a biography of L. Ron Hubbard that revealed him as a pulp sci-fi writer who once claimed to be a nuclear physicist. He wasn’t. He’d been investigated for fraud.
“Now the real work begins,” her Case Supervisor said. “You’ve erased the reactive mind. Next: Operating Thetan.” The phone rang
She advanced up the “Bridge to Total Freedom.” The wins were real: the catharsis of confessing secrets to an auditor, the high of “exteriorization” (feeling separate from your body), the camaraderie of a group that saw themselves as the only sane ones on a dying planet. She reached “Clear” after four years — a ceremony with a plastic badge and a sense of arrival. But the elation lasted only weeks.
Inside: the story of Xenu. Seventy-five million years ago, an alien ruler brought billions of frozen beings to Earth (then called “Teegeeack”), stacked them around volcanoes, and blew them up with H-bombs. Their souls stuck to human bodies — “body thetans.” Auditing’s goal was to blow off those sticky souls. Goodbye
Prologue: The Invitation
Karen sold her car. She borrowed from her parents. She cut ties with “suppressive persons” (SPs) — friends who questioned her new path. She moved into a cramped Celebrity Centre dormitory, rising at 5 AM for training drills. She learned the Tech — Hubbard’s exact words, never altered.