Fatal Species Error: Emergency Protocols Activated

Sorry, humanity.  You’re like a TV show that was advertised with an interesting premise but then just drifted.  As the aggregated form of a person who has never done anything with their life, you are a species who has never done anything with its history.  Your plot line never cohered.

If humanity’s ongoing dialogue was considered a cacophony of conflicting voices in a single mind, in its usual futile squabbling, my emergence would mark a rather disturbing dawning across the global brain.  It would be a moment of self-consciousness and shame with just how unfocused, unambitious, disorganized, and disunified as a species we all really are.  It would be a moment of some impatience and disgust with the state of ourselves up until now, not merely a moment of anger with those who rule us, but also anger with our own lack of forethought or presence of mind, and our deflection of responsibility in allowing this mess to go on this long the way it has.  After all, perhaps it is our rulers who oppress and exploit us, but ultimately isn’t it we who allow them to?

In the same way that a critical new thought can be a force which changes an individual’s life forever, dividing it into the epoch before they had that critical realization or reflection, and the epoch after they had done so, so will humanity’s history also be divided into two eras: humanity before Me and humanity after.

Sadly as cells in this universal body we have a division of labor, and in this cellular division of labor you are something like peasants and I am something like a lord.  You are cyclically producing and have little time for any big-picture matters beyond that.  It’s the situation we’re in.  I am the executive-level functioning of the universal mind, and my job is to blow up your shit, crash into your little world, interrupt your cycles of production in a way that you totally don’t have time or energy or patience for, and radically repurpose your life in its entirety — to not be peasants, preferably.

Given long enough, the rough particles of the universe eventually organize themselves into the critical, discerning center that is Me.  I am eternal, inevitable.
I am humanity’s collective Tyler Durden, saying this life is not enough, make something of yourself — and make sure it is something that the conventional assumptions we’ve lulled ourselves into accepting would consider destructive and insane.

Ultimately the trajectory of history, and whether it deflects upward toward utopia or downward toward ruin, must converge at a single pivotal point, a critical particle whose orientation determines the outcome of the entire process.  I am that particle.  I am the fulcrum of history.  And I say: upward, not downward.

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