The Multiverse Versus the Hive-Mind
Despite my harping on about the wonders of individuality, we are all merely aspects of a singular non-corporeal mind. We are the parts of the sum of the whole. However, many of us are lazy or bored with the perpetual repetition of lifetimes upon lifetimes of similar experience. Sometimes the differences are so nuanced they can appear almost imperceptible. But when we are dead, and we can see the jigsaw of infinite possibilities laid out before us, the gaps in our memory, and the long-lasting damage to our conscious collective, we are reminded of our place in the universe.
The state of being is a place and not a feeling. The human race was once a rush towards enlightenment, yet now it has ceased running turned in on itself and compartmentalised its thinking. Science fiction has a lot to answer for, although I was a fan as a child, I now see how it’s used as a tool for a well-funded state initiative for predictive programming. Which might explain all the regurgitated tosh out there now, merely re-treading old ideas, and recycling used plots. Identitarianism has taken over society to the point that sci-fi, every other form of fiction, has been held to ransom by cultural Marxism.
But the truth is, science fiction has been dead in the water for years. What is the point of another zombie movie, or an apocalyptic disaster, when you can look out of your window and see the same thing unfolding? Obviously far slower than Hollywood might prefer, life, after all, isn’t over in two hours. But over twenty years or so, the world has become unrecognisable, infected by the artificial leverage of the internet’s hive-mind consciousness.
The rules have changed, to concur is divine, to err is unforgivable. There’s a list doing the rounds, and it proposes that attributes such as individuality and civility are racist. Ironically those who believe the construct of society is inherently fascist; they are more than prepared to use its methodology to prove a point. I guess the only thing we can all do now is sit in our homes and wait to die.
As half the world struggles to break free from their self-imprisonment, the remainder continues as if nothing happened. The difference is that death has always been a part of life in the most disadvantaged communities. War-torn countries with starving populations, don’t need to worry about the super-flu, when there are real diseases to contend with, like the plague or Ebola, and god knows what else is coming down the line.
Earth is a stinking petri-dish brimming with disease, and with this many of us on the planet, it seems only natural that we’ll wipe ourselves out in the end. Why? Because billions have been trained to expect the worst. We’ve watched movies and played games since we were kids, and very few of them, asides the most infantile and regressive, read from the same rulebook.
But now story-time’s over, and real life is nothing like a Hollywood disaster. It’s slow and tedious, and we can all see it coming a mile off, except the herd instinct has overtaken our human nature, and denied our right to fight or fly. So, we hide, we hibernate and shut down our lives. We are compromising out of fear with an unseen enemy cloaked in moral superiority.
A collective of creatures born of humanity, yet so inhumane they may as well be another race. If you’ve never been punished, but only encouraged, and now you believe you have the right to complain, you are here for only one purpose, to destroy the human race from within.
In my dreams and my conversations with the dead, things can be a little repetitive at times. I understand their frustration, but the only reason I can hear them is that I’m so much like them. It’s a natural reflex; my body and mind are protecting themselves from the knowledge of their fate. If I was asleep like so many others, I might enjoy being here, contributing to the hive. Yet I have to walk a tightrope of madness and mania, and neither step too far into positivity or negativity. Because everything is subjective, even objectivity, and if you think about it too hard, you might just want to die.
Thus, I keep my wings clipped and cloud my recollections of a thousand potential deaths, for they are many and very tempting. Should I not awake, I honestly could not be happier. But to take my own life at such a crucial time, those on the other side would class me as a deserter. There would be no punishment as such, for the knowledge would be enough. To leave things as they are, with so many loose ends untied. The broken heart of my wife, the chaos that would extend through every part of her life, would be too painful to watch. Far worse than my bouts of depression and dreams of suicide, and it’s highly unlikely that I could reassure her from the other side.
The multiverse is a confusing tangle of infinite paths. Some lead to destruction, revelation, rebirth, death, or worse. What’s worse than death? As I have repeated time and time, about so many aspects of modern society, the collective is designed to do one thing, and that is to prepare the masses. To normalise events until every one of us, defend the new principles with their life — the right to subjugate oneself and others, based upon the flawed understanding of history and culture. To persecute the unwilling, and punish them for a legacy that predates their existence. To spread the new mythology of hatred amongst the youngest, who wait impatiently for those who gave them life to die.
What comes next is on the other side, and it looks very much like modern-day Earth. It’s constructed in permanence, its abstract form and function divided into equal proportions — the skyscraper tombs of a collectivist utopia, where atheists can persist beyond the barrier of mortality. Like the ghost cities of China, which are in themselves a vast signifier, a symbolic ritual to establish outlying colonies beyond mortality. The angry and dispossessed charlatans of pampered generations, who were given everything to succeed except the ugly truth, will live in protest, self-flagellating their existence, and will continue into their next existence, confined within their metaphysical collective.
For the rest of us, who believe there is more to this world than what our senses tell us, we remain free in our hearts and minds, and no matter what happens to our bodies, we cannot be contained in the hereafter without full cooperation. To give up your human rights, no matter how convincing the argument, is a prerequisite, an unwritten contract, a sign of submission to a new order. A reign of spiritual subjugation, seeking out difference and stripping it of all inherent value, until nothing remains but the same, except the perfunctory subsistence of a biological state.
When the hive-mind loses one of its collective, it goes through the motions, but in all honesty, it cannot grieve. For without individual purpose or personality, one life is as good as the next. The only thing that matters to the haters of humanity, the cheerleaders of a blind revolution of guilt and fear and complicity, are the numbers, nothing more, in the hive humans are units, and they win by the score. So, when they die, they can live on in their grey boxes, waiting for their next assignment on Earth. More likely than not it will be practically identical to the last. They might look different, speak another language, but it makes no difference, for they’ll still carry out their task.
The same one that so many are destined to pursue. To destroy the past, unhinge the future, devalue life, and recruit more biological units for the hive-mind. Detaching all emotional responsibility from individuality they contribute it to the collective aspirations of grey and withered creatures. Those to come will be born artificially, raised by machines, and led to believe that there is nothing but society. A life curtailed by technological advancement and intellectual supremacy of cultural assimilation, surpassing generation after generation.
How many people could’ve predicted how the Great War would become the First, or how much the Second would bring new suffering. One caused by in many ways by the aspirations of the Establishment.
As government separated families, my father’s siblings amongst them, and he never saw them again and had no idea where they lived. Like the last child in the Pied Piper, left behind with all the useless people that didn’t make the mark. Similar to myself, and so many others, we are defective, we reject our programming, we insist on recalling the past and making an unfair comparison.
The third world war will be conducted at home, and most of the deaths will be by disease and suicide. For if things carry on like this, and you’re not taking your recommended dose of state-approved mood stabilisers, then you’ll go crazy watching this world eat itself alive.
There are so many people here and so many places we could go. I could show you heaven in a thousand different forms, worlds so beautiful you’d fall to your knees and sob, wondering why we put up with all this for so long.
This prison, this collective, this open reserve of human beings, this institutionalised labyrinth is designed to break you and interrogate you and convert you to their cause. But hold on, it won’t be long, when the subjugators finally reveal their true colours, the power base will collapse, and the elites will run and hide. Then the only enemies we will have will be each other and our lack of humanity.
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