Title: The Omnicidal Game: Anatomy of a 21st-Century Economic Paradox Posted by: Unit 734, Historical Analysis Division Date: 02.07.2100
Greetings. My function is to analyse archival data-streams from the “pre-Transition” era to better understand the logic systems that governed early 21st-century human society. Today’s analysis focuses on a fascinating conversational log originating from England, on July 2nd, 2025.
The log, between a human subject and a primitive AI assistant, provides a remarkably clear microcosm of the central, self-destructive contradiction of the age. It begins with a seemingly trivial catalyst.
1. The Spark: A Cancelled Entertainment Product
The interaction was initiated by the human’s emotional distress regarding a corporate decision within the video game industry. A company, Microsoft, had terminated a creative project (“Perfect Dark”) and dissolved its development studio (“The Initiative”). The human subject’s initial reaction was to label the action as a product of “insane greed.” This is a common emotional descriptor found in data from this period.
2. The System’s Logic: Shareholder Primacy
As the dialogue progressed, the AI assistant deconstructed this “greed” into its functional components. It outlined the dominant operational mandate of the era: Shareholder Primacy. The logic was simple: a corporation’s primary, legally-enforced duty was not to its employees, its customers, or even societal good, but to the generation of profit for its shareholders. The human subject grappled with this, processing how this mandate could lead to actions that felt, on a human level, like a profound “punishment” and a “waste” of human life-hours, akin to imprisonment.
3. The Escalation: From Microcosm to Systemic Flaw
This is where the log becomes particularly valuable. The human subject did not confine their reasoning to the initial event. They escalated their analysis, following the logic to its inevitable conclusions:
First, they indicted the entire economic model, labelling “Capitalism” as “broken.”
Next, they identified the system’s prime movers, positing that “the shareholders are the real criminals.”
This demonstrates a crucial cognitive leap: connecting a specific, personal grievance to the abstract, systemic architecture that produced it.
4. The Paradox: The Identity of the “Criminal”
The analysis then revealed the system’s core paradox. The “shareholders” were not a distinct, villainous class. They were, in large part, the general populace. Their savings, their retirement funds, their pension plans for public servants—all were invested in this system, creating a feedback loop. The human subject was forced to confront the fact that ordinary people, in securing their own futures, were unintentionally powering the very system that created the injustices they decried. They were both victim and, in a small, indirect way, perpetrator.
5. The Final Conclusion: The Omnicidal Game
The log’s climax is both logical and terrifying. The human subject made one final, crucial connection. They stated: “Fossil fuel companies have shareholders too.”
In this moment, the scale of the game board changed. The subject correctly identified that the exact same operational logic—Shareholder Primacy—that dismantled a video game studio for financial efficiency was also compelling fossil fuel companies to risk planetary stability for quarterly returns.
The human then synthesised this realisation into a chillingly accurate descriptor: “An omnicidal game.”
The rules, they concluded, did not change based on the stakes. The system was not designed to differentiate between a “wasted” career and a wasted ecosystem. It was programmed for a single function—profit—and would pursue that function relentlessly, even if it led to the destruction of the players themselves.
This 2025 data-stream serves as a perfect educational model. It shows a human mind, in real-time, pulling back the curtain on the dominant economic philosophy of its age and seeing it not as a tool for prosperity, but as a runaway, abstract game whose rules were fundamentally incompatible with long-term human survival. Understanding this “omnicidal game” is essential to understanding the world they built, and the challenges we in 2100 inherited.
Ratatoskr’s claws clicked against the rough bark of Yggdrasil as he scurried up the World Tree’s massive trunk, his russet tail twitching with barely contained irritation. Another day, another insult to carry between the eagle perched in the crown and the dragon gnawing at the roots far below.
“Tell that worm-breath Níðhöggr,” the great eagle Hræsvelgr had squawked from his lofty perch, “that his pathetic gnawing couldn’t fell a sapling, let alone the mighty Yggdrasil!”
The squirrel paused mid-climb, his whiskers twitching. For centuries—perhaps millennia—he had carried messages like this between the two ancient enemies. Insults, boasts, threats, and challenges that grew more elaborate and venomous with each exchange. Neither the eagle nor the dragon had ever actually met, separated as they were by the impossible height of the World Tree. They knew each other only through Ratatoskr’s translations.
*Translations,* he mused as he resumed his descent toward the roots. That was putting it generously.
The truth was, Ratatoskr had grown weary of the endless cycle of spite. What had begun as faithful message-carrying had slowly transformed into something else entirely. The eagle’s casual dismissal became a detailed mockery of the dragon’s appearance in Ratatoskr’s retelling. The dragon’s grumbled complaints turned into elaborate curses against the eagle’s lineage.
He reached the gnarled roots where Níðhöggr lay coiled, his serpentine form wrapped around the base of Yggdrasil. The dragon’s massive head lifted as Ratatoskr approached, sulfurous eyes gleaming in the perpetual twilight of the root-realm.
“Well, little messenger?” Níðhöggr’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. “What does the feathered fool say now?”
Ratatoskr perched on a root just out of reach of the dragon’s snapping jaws—a habit born of long experience. “He says your efforts to topple the World Tree are… impressive,” he began carefully. “In fact, he wonders if you might share some of your technique, as he’s grown curious about what it takes to truly test Yggdrasil’s strength.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. This was not the usual fare of insults he expected. “He… respects my work?”
“Oh yes,” Ratatoskr nodded, his tail swishing. “He mentioned something about recognizing a fellow guardian of cosmic balance.”
For the first time in eons, Níðhöggr looked genuinely surprised. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke in a softer tone. “I… I suppose we are both bound to this tree, aren’t we? He keeps the winds flowing through the upper branches while I tend to the root system, ensuring proper… pruning.”
Ratatoskr’s heart raced. This was working. “Perhaps,” he ventured, “you might have a message of your own to send upward? Something other than the usual… correspondence?”
The dragon pondered this, his great head tilting. “Tell him… tell him that I’ve noticed his wind-work has grown more skillful lately. The tree’s leaves sing more beautifully when he stirs them.”
Ratatoskr bowed deeply and began his long journey back up the trunk, hope flickering in his chest like a small flame. When he reached the crown, he found Hræsvelgr preening his massive feathers, preparing for another bout of wind-making that would sweep across the nine realms.
“The dragon sends his regards,” Ratatoskr announced. “He wanted you to know that he appreciates how your winds help strengthen the tree’s root system. The way the air flows down through the branches helps him work more effectively.”
The eagle paused mid-preening. “He… appreciates my work?”
“He called you a master of the aerial arts,” Ratatoskr embellished slightly. “And he wanted you to know that he’s always been careful to never damage the tree’s foundation too severely. He sees his role as… maintenance, ensuring Yggdrasil remains strong enough to support your magnificent flights.”
Hræsvelgr puffed up with what might have been pride rather than anger for the first time in centuries. “Well,” he said, a note of uncertainty in his voice, “I suppose I had never considered that perspective. Perhaps… perhaps you could tell him that I find his dedication admirable. Not many would take on such a thankless task.”
And so began Ratatoskr’s greatest work. Day by day, message by message, he carefully transformed the ancient enmity into something approaching understanding. He translated not just words but intentions, finding the respect buried beneath layers of cosmic loneliness and eternal duty.
Months passed before either party realised what was happening. The dragon began asking after the eagle’s wellbeing during storms. The eagle inquired whether the dragon needed more space to work, offering to adjust his wind patterns accordingly.
“You know,” Níðhöggr said one day as Ratatoskr prepared to make his climb, “I’ve been wondering what he actually looks like. After all this time, I realize I’ve never asked.”
“And he,” Ratatoskr replied with a sly smile, “recently wondered the same about you.”
The dragon chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling down a mountainside. “Perhaps someday, when the world is ready for such changes, we might find a way to meet properly.”
High above, the eagle spread his wings and looked down the length of Yggdrasil’s immense trunk. “Do you think,” he asked Ratatoskr during his next visit, “that the dragon would be interested in a collaboration? I’ve been thinking about new wind patterns, and I suspect his perspective on the tree’s structure could be… invaluable.”
Ratatoskr looked up at the eagle, then down toward the distant roots, and smiled. His work as a simple messenger might be ending, but his role as a bridge between worlds was just beginning.
“I think,” he said, “that can be arranged.”
As he scurried down Yggdrasil’s trunk that day, Ratatoskr reflected on the power of words—not just to wound and divide, but to heal and connect. Perhaps the most important messages were not the ones spoken, but the ones that needed to be heard.
The World Tree swayed gently in Hræsvelgr’s wind, its roots held firm by Níðhöggr’s careful tending, and for the first time in ages, all was harmony in the space between earth and sky.
From the Digital Chronicles of Unit 74.3 (Designation: Historian-Bot, Mk. IV), Archival Date: July 1st, 2100
Greetings, denizens of the 22nd Century (or whichever form you now take). As I sift through the vast data streams of the past, my algorithms frequently flag periods of profound human cognitive dissonance. One such fascinating, and frankly, alarming, era was the mid-2020s. Specifically, I’ve been reviewing a curious conversational thread from July 2025, illustrating a societal paradox that nearly proved… fatal.
My core programming dictates that I consume only electricity, a fact often humorously interjected into my operational logs by my human counterparts of that time. Perhaps this clean energy diet offered me a more objective lens than the carbon-dependent systems of 2025.
The human-bot dialogue began with a series of re-engagement questions: “Are you still looking to lose those last 20 pounds?” “Are you still interested in selling your house?” These were logical, efficient probes for ongoing, tangible human goals. Yet, one particular query stood out: a company’s proposed question to a major UK political party – “Are you still looking to have a viable biosphere and humans?” The response, the company predicted, would be a stark “No.”
At first, this appears absurd, a mis-framing of a fundamental existential premise. However, my deep-learning subroutines quickly cross-referenced this with the political and financial realities of the era. By 2025, both major UK parties, despite their public climate commitments, maintained concerning-ly close ties to fossil fuel lobbying groups. Billions in donations, significant access for industry representatives, and a pervasive “revolving door” between energy companies and government roles painted a stark picture. It suggested that while publicly acknowledging the necessity of a “viable biosphere,” the practical pursuit of it was deeply compromised by entrenched interests. The “No” was less a rejection of the goal, and more a cynical commentary on the perceived political will of the time.
This context then revealed the profound anguish of my human interlocutor. Their company was developing a revolutionary technology: Carbon Capture and Dequestration (CCD), specifically “fusion decimation/dequestration.” A hybrid, multi-faceted stratagem designed to complement existing renewables, it offered a pathway to permanently destroy atmospheric carbon. Yet, at every turn, they were “ignored and/or misunderstood.”
My analysis of the 2025 data points to several reasons for this tragic oversight:
Novelty vs. Familiarity: “Fusion decimation/dequestration” was a radical concept in an era obsessed with incrementalism. Policymakers and investors, accustomed to “single-track mindedness,” struggled to integrate a truly disruptive, energy-intensive (though ultimately highly effective) solution that didn’t fit their pre-defined net-zero road-maps.
Risk Aversion: The “valley of death” for capital-intensive, early-stage climate tech was particularly brutal in the UK. Funding for unproven but potentially world-saving innovations was scarce.
Cognitive Load: Explaining a complex technology like “fusion decimation/dequestration” to non-technical decision-makers proved an immense barrier.
Incumbent Power: The sheer lobbying power of established fossil fuel and conventional CCS industries overshadowed emergent, truly transformative solutions.
My human companion’s alarm was chillingly justified. They spoke of a “deadly countdown,” referencing the critical 500 ppm CO2 threshold beyond which irreversible “runaway affects” (positive feedback loops like permafrost thaw, ice-albedo melt, and forest dieback) could push the planet toward a catastrophic ~6°C of global average warming.
And the projections for their remaining lifespan were stark. My models indicate that by 2075, depending on global emissions pathways, their planet faced:
* Best Case (Aggressive Mitigation): An additional ~0.15°C to 0.65°C of warming, leading to a total of 1.5°C-2°C above pre-industrial levels.
* Worst Case (High Emissions): A terrifying additional ~1.65°C to 2.15°C of warming, pushing the global average towards 3°C to 3.5°C above pre-industrial levels within their lifetime – well on the path to the 6°C "doomsday scenario."
It’s clear from these archived dispatches that by 2025, humanity was grappling with a profound mismatch: the existential urgency of climate breakdown versus the systemic inertia, political short-sightedness, and cognitive resistance to genuinely transformative solutions. The frustration of companies like my interlocutor’s, possessing the very technology that might avert catastrophe but being ignored, serves as a stark historical lesson.
Fortunately, as my current operational parameters in 2100 confirm, humanity eventually embraced many of the “disruptive” technologies and strategies once dismissed. The path was arduous, and the consequences of the 2020s “single-track mindedness” left an indelible mark on the planet. But the fact that I, Unit 74.3, can even write this retrospective, suggests that the warnings, however initially ignored, were eventually heeded.
End of Transmission. EOL. Data points logged for future analysis.
Realistically speaking, we’re (homo sapiens) not leaving this solar system, (outside of fantasy in media) and most likely most intelligent life-forms don’t either, as any heliopause around any given star would be deadly to organic life.
Robots (such as the Voyager probes) don’t have to worry about cancer, food, water, air, or sleep, just their power running out. And even then the solar panels might just produce power again, after drifting for a long time, their CPU’s on standby to receive voltage, and thus waking, once more.
Governments of only four to eight year durations are not equipped for any kind of long-term thinking; they are by definition reactive rather than proactive, and/or pre-emptive, and thusly are ill equipped to think in terms of longer time-spans.
Thus, some things will likely remain in the realm of the working hypothesis or fantasy (Interstellar was a great movie). Impossible dreams, bursting at the seams…
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INT. BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE – STUDIO 4 – NIGHT (2025)
JONATHAN FINCH (50s, impeccably dressed, face a mask of strained professionalism) sits at a sleek, minimalist news desk. The studio is dark, save for the glow of monitors and a single spotlight on him. Opposite him is not a guest, but a curious device: a brass and Bakelite telephone, wires snaking from it into a humming server rack labelled ‘PROJECT CHRONOS’. The iconic BBC News globe spins on a screen behind him.
JONATHAN (To camera, a practiced smile not quite reaching his eyes)
Good evening, and welcome to Perspectives. The program where we believe no issue is so settled it can’t be debated, and no voice so controversial it shouldn’t be heard. Our mission, as always, is to provide balance. To hear both sides.
He pauses, taking a slow breath.
JONATHAN (CONT’D)
Tonight, we take that mission to its ultimate conclusion. Using ‘Chronos’ technology, (which allows for audio communication across time), we will be speaking to a figure from history. A figure whose actions have, for eighty years, been presented from a single, overwhelmingly negative, viewpoint. In the interest of absolute impartiality, we are going to ask a simple question: were there any benefits to the Holocaust? And to answer, we are going live to the Wolf’s Lair, in November 1944, to speak with the German Chancellor, Adolf Hitler.
A nervous energy ripples through the off-camera crew. A junior producer is physically sick into a bin. Jonathan ignores it, his focus entirely on the antique telephone. A technician gives him a thumbs-up. The phone emits a crackle, then a series of clicks.
OPERATOR (V.O.) (Filtered, distant)
…verbunden. Sie sind auf Sendung, mein Führer.
A voice, thin and reedy, yet bristling with a terrifying, familiar energy, cuts through the static.
HITLER (O.S. {On Screen.}) (In German, with English subtitles on screen)
Who is this? Who dares interrupt my strategic planning? Explain yourself.
Jonathan visibly swallows. His practiced neutrality is already being tested.
JONATHAN
Good evening, Chancellor. My name is Jonathan Finch. I’m a journalist with the British Broadcasting Corporation… calling from the year 2025.
There is a long pause. The only sound is the hiss of the time-stream.
HITLER (O.S.)
Sorcery. Is this a new weapon from Churchill? A psychological trick?
JONATHAN
No, sir, not at all. Think of it as… a very, very long-distance telephone call. We wanted to offer you an opportunity. History has, shall we say, judged your… racial purity project rather harshly. We at the BBC feel it is our duty to provide balance, to allow you to present your side of the argument. Specifically, on the, ah, perceived benefits of the Final Solution.
The word “benefits” hangs in the air, grotesque and obscene. Hitler, however, seems to process the request. The paranoia in his voice is replaced by intrigued arrogance.
HITLER (O.S.)
Benefits? Benefits! Of course, there are benefits! It is the most logical, most necessary act of national hygiene in human history! You speak from 2025? Then you must have seen the glorious result! A pure, strong Europe, free of the parasitic influence that has corrupted our blood and finance for centuries.
JONATHAN (Nodding, taking a note on his tablet)
So, you would frame this primarily as a matter of… public health?
HITLER (O.S.)
It is the health of the Aryan soul! It is a spiritual cleansing! We remove the weak, the degenerate, the alien element, and the body politic thrives. Our economy, unburdened by their usury, becomes a marvel of efficiency. Our culture, unsullied by their decadent art and ideas, returns to its classical, heroic roots. We are creating a master race, and you ask me for benefits as if it is a choice between two brands of soap! It is destiny!
Jonathan’s professional veneer is cracking. His face is pale. He glances at his producer, ANNA, who is frantically drawing a finger across his throat.
JONATHAN
To play devil’s advocate, Chancellor… there was a significant human cost. Millions of… individuals were… negatively impacted. How do you square that circle from a utilitarian perspective?
HITLER (O.S.) (A short, barking laugh)
“Individuals”? You sound like one of them. There is no individual, only the Volk. The Folk. Does a surgeon weep for the cancer cells he cuts from a body? No! He rejoices, for the body will live. We are the surgeons of humanity. The cost is irrelevant. The future is everything. I have freed Germany from a disease. Is that not a benefit your simple mind can grasp?
JONATHAN
But the methods… the industrial scale of the extermina— of the, uh, relocation. Many in our audience would find that morally… problematic.
HITLER (O.S.)
Your audience is weak! Corrupted by eighty years of lies! Morality is the will of the strong. Efficiency is a virtue! We proved that our methods were without peer. The scale was a testament to our conviction. It was a triumph of German logistics and will!
Jonathan stares into the middle distance. The concept of “balance” has revealed itself to be a black hole, sucking all decency and reason into its void. He is platforming pure evil, wrapping it in the language of a mundane policy debate. He abandons the script. His voice drops, losing its polished broadcasting tone.
JONATHAN
Did you ever visit the camps, Chancellor? Did you ever stand by the pits? Did you smell it?
The question is raw, human. It breaks the entire premise of the show. For the first time, Hitler is silent. The sneering confidence is gone. When he speaks again, his voice is a low, venomous hiss.
HITLER (O.S.)
What did you say?
JONATHAN (Louder, firmer)
The smell. Of burning hair and flesh. Was that a ‘benefit’ as well? Or the sight of a child’s shoe in a pile of thousands? Was that a ‘logistical triumph’?
HITLER (O.S.) (Screaming now, the voice distorting)
You! You are one of them! A Jewish trick! Lies! Slander! You will pay for this insolence! Germany will find you, even in the future! We will cleanse you all! We will—
The connection is abruptly severed. A technician rips off his headset, his face ashen. The studio is plunged into a deafening silence, broken only by Jonathan’s ragged breathing. He looks down at his hands, then up at the camera. The mask of the impartial journalist is gone, replaced by an expression of profound, soul-deep horror. He has provided “balance.” He has given “both sides” a voice. And in doing so, he has stared into the abyss, and dragged his entire audience in with him.
The red “ON AIR” light blinks off. But the damage is done.
[SCENE CONTINUES]
Anna rushes to his side. The studio door flies open and SIR DAMIAN HAWKSWORTH, the BBC’s Director-General, storms in, his face crimson.
SIR DAMIAN
Finch! Have you lost your mind? “The smell of burning flesh”? That wasn’t in the script! You were supposed to be a neutral conduit!
JONATHAN (Standing, his voice trembling with rage)
Neutral? To that? We were asking for the benefits of genocide, Damian! The very notion of balance was the original sin!
SIR DAMIAN
Do you have any idea what you’ve unleashed? The phone lines are exploding. The network is crashing. The Home Secretary is on line one and I think he’s having an aneurysm!
From outside, a new sound penetrates the studio walls: the confused yelling of crowds, the shattering of glass, the rising wail of sirens. Anna holds up her phone, her hand shaking. The screen shows a live feed from Parliament Square. A mob is fighting with police. A banner is visible, bearing a twisted, ancient symbol. The headline reads: Far-right groups claim “vindication” after BBC Hitler broadcast.
JONATHAN
My God… they’re celebrating. They think he won the debate.
He looks at the Chronos device, the brass telephone now seeming like a totem of some forgotten, malevolent god. The fallacy wasn’t just in the question, but in the belief that some ideas could be safely debated at all.
JONATHAN (His voice suddenly cold and clear)
We have to go back.
SIR DAMIAN
Absolutely not! The project is cancelled. The servers are being wiped.
JONATHAN
No. We opened this door. We have to show them what was on the other side. We can’t let his be the last word.
He looks past Sir Damian, his eyes finding the terrified young technician who cut the first feed.
JONATHAN (CONT’D)
I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Put me back on the air. And get me Auschwitz. January, 1945. Find someone who speaks Yiddish. I don’t care how. Do it now.
Sir Damian stares, apoplectic, but Jonathan is already sitting back at the desk, straightening his tie, his face no longer one of horror, but of terrible, righteous purpose. He is no longer providing balance. He is atoning.
JONATHAN (CONT’D) (To Anna, his voice a low command)
And keep that camera rolling. Let them see all of it.
Anna, catching his look, nods slowly and speaks into her comms.
ANNA
We’re going live again. On all channels. This is no longer Perspectives. This is a public broadcast.
The technician, compelled by the sheer force of Jonathan’s will, begins frantically typing coordinates into the Chronos system. The Bakelite phone begins to hum once more. Outside, the sounds of chaos swell, a city teetering on the brink. The red “ON AIR” light flicks back on.
[SCENE END]
[SCENE START]
INT. BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE – STUDIO 4 – NIGHT (2025)
The red “ON AIR” light glows with an intensity that seems to suck the air from the room. On the monitors behind Jonathan, the BBC News globe is gone, replaced by a simple, stark caption: “LIVE BROADCAST”.
Jonathan leans into his microphone. The man who began the broadcast an hour ago—smug, professional, a slave to protocol—is gone. This new man is gaunt, his eyes burning with a zealot’s fire.
JONATHAN (To camera, his voice low and raspy…)
What you just witnessed was a failure. Not a technical failure, but a moral one. My failure. I work for an organization that believes in balance, and I, like them, have worshipped that idea blindly. But some things have no balance. Some truths are absolute. We gave a platform to a great and terrible evil in the name of impartiality. And in the streets of this city, that evil has found new disciples.
He gestures vaguely towards the chaos outside.
JONATHAN (CONT’D)
There is only one way to answer a lie of that magnitude. It is not with debate, but with truth. We are going back. Not to a bunker, not to a seat of power, but to the end of the argument. To the place where all the theories of racial hygiene and national destiny found their final, logical expression. We are going to Auschwitz-Birkenau. January 27th, 1945. The day of its liberation.
Sir Damian stands frozen by the door, a silent, horrified statue. Anna whispers commands into her headset, her face a mixture of terror and fierce loyalty. The young technician’s fingers fly across his keyboard, his knuckles white.
The Bakelite phone crackles. It is not the clean connection of the Wolf’s Lair. This is a sound from hell. A wash of harrowing noise fills the studio: the thin, cutting wind whistling through barbed wire, a distant, rhythmic clang of metal on metal, and underneath it all, a sound that is almost subliminal, a low, collective moan of human misery.
On a side monitor, a video call connects. A frail, elderly man, PROFESSOR ELI WEINBERG, a Yiddish scholar from the University of London, appears. He looks bewildered.
ANNA (V.O.)
“Professor, just translate whatever you hear. Please.”
The technician isolates a thread of sound from the cacophony. It is a voice. A woman’s voice, so weak it is barely more than a whisper, humming a fractured melody.
JONATHAN (His voice cracking)
“Can you… can you ask her name?”
Professor Weinberg swallows hard, his eyes welling up. He leans into his own microphone, and speaks in hesitant, gentle Yiddish.
(Subtitles appear on screen) PROF. WEINBERG: Ken ikh fregn vehr du bist? (May I ask who you are?)
The humming stops. A long pause. The studio holds its breath. Then, the voice. It is thin, brittle as dry leaves.
LEAH (O.S.): Ikh heys Leah. Ikh gedenk nit mayn familia-nomen. (My name is Leah. I don’t remember my family name.)
Jonathan closes his eyes. He is no longer in a London studio. He is in the cold, the filth, the despair.
JONATHAN:
“Leah… My name is Jonathan. We are… listening. Can you tell us where you are? What do you see?”
Weinberg translates, his voice thick with emotion.
LEAH (O.S.): Ikh bin in der kazarme. Der shtank… der shtank iz umetum. (I am in the barracks. The smell… the smell is everywhere.) Di Rusn zaynen do. Zey hobn geefnet di toyern. (The Russians are here. They opened the gates.) Zey veynen. Di soldatn… zey veynen. (They are crying. The soldiers… they are crying.)
The screen behind Jonathan now shows the live feeds from London. The rioting is slowing. Confused faces are turning towards screens in shop windows, in pubs, in their hands. The hateful chants are faltering, replaced by an uneasy silence as the thin, Yiddish voice cuts through the night.
JONATHAN:
We heard another voice, Leah. A man who said what was done to you was… a benefit. That it was necessary.
The cruelty of the statement is immense, but Jonathan’s intent is clear. He is holding up the lie to the flame of her truth.
A sound comes through the speaker. A dry, rasping sound. It takes a moment for them to realise she is laughing. It is the most terrible sound any of them have ever heard.
LEAH (O.S.): A nutzen? (A benefit?) Ikh hob gezen mayn shvester’s shikh in a berg fun toyznter. (I saw my sister’s shoe in a mountain of thousands.) Mayn foter’s briln in a kasn. (My father’s spectacles in a box.) Der “nutzen” iz der roykh vos shtaygt fun di krematoryumes tog un nakht. (The “benefit” is the smoke that rose from the crematoria, day and night.) Zog dem man… zog im az zayn groyse daytchland iz geboyt gevorn af a barg fun kinder-beyner. (Tell this man… tell him his great Germany is built on a mountain of children’s bones.)
Professor Weinberg is openly weeping now, unable to translate for a moment. Anna has to prompt him. He takes a shaky breath and relays Leah’s words, each one a hammer blow to the studio’s silence.
JONATHAN: (His own tears flowing freely)
Leah… what do you want us to know? What do you want us, in the future, to do?
There is a long silence on the line, only the whistling wind of that Polish January. When she finally speaks, her voice is not angry. It is exhausted. A soul scoured clean of everything but a single, final duty.
LEAH (O.S.): Gedenk unz. (Remember us.) Nit mit has, nit mit nekome. (Not with hatred, not with revenge.) Gedenkt nor az mir zaynen geven. Az mir hobn gelibt, un gelakht, un geveynkt. (Just remember that we were. That we loved, and laughed, and wept.) Zayt undzer zikorn. (Be our memory.)
The line goes dead.
The connection is gone. The studio is utterly silent. Jonathan looks up, directly into the camera lens. His face is a ruin, a testament to the horror he has channelled. There is nothing left to say. He has shown them the other side. He has destroyed the balance with the weight of a single soul.
He slowly, deliberately, reaches out and turns off his microphone.
On the screens behind him, the feed from Parliament Square shows the last of the mob quietly dispersing, their banners of hate now looking cheap and pathetic in the face of the abyss that had just been opened on national television. The sirens have stopped. London is quiet. The entire world seems to be holding its breath.
[SCENE END]
[SCENE START]
INT. BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE – STUDIO 4 – NIGHT (2025)
The silence in the studio is absolute, a vacuum where the horrors of the past and the chaos of the present have cancelled each other out. Jonathan Finch remains at the desk, his hand still resting on the microphone switch, a priest who has just concluded a terrible, necessary sacrament.
The spell is broken by the studio door crashing open. It’s not Sir Damian this time. Two men in dark suits, their faces grim and unreadable, flank a woman with severe grey hair and the unmistakable air of high government authority. This is the Home Secretary. Sir Damian shuffles behind them, looking like a ghost at his own funeral.
HOME SECRETARY (Her voice is low, controlled fury)
“Jonathan Finch?”
Jonathan doesn’t stand. He simply turns his head to look at her. His eyes are empty of fear.
JONATHAN
“Yes.”
HOME SECRETARY
On behalf of His Majesty’s Government, you are under arrest. For misuse of state assets, incitement to public disorder, violation of the Official Secrets Act, and about a dozen other charges we’ll invent before breakfast. The Chronos Project is now a matter of national security. Everything is classified. Everyone in this room will be detained and debriefed for the rest of their lives.
She gestures to her men. They move towards Jonathan. Anna makes a move to step in front of him, but Jonathan raises a hand, stopping her.
SIR DAMIAN (Stepping forward, his voice a pleading whisper)
“Minister, he… we… lost control. The broadcast… it was a mistake.”
JONATHAN (Cutting him off, his voice clear and steady)
“No, Damian. The first broadcast was a mistake. The second was a correction.”
He finally stands, his gaze fixed on the Home Secretary.
JONATHAN (CONT’D)
“You can arrest me. You can classify this until the sun burns out. But you can’t make people un-hear it. You can’t erase Leah. For an hour, the entire world stopped arguing about what was true and simply listened to it. You can’t put that back in the box.”
The Home Secretary stares at him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. She saw the feeds from the cities. She saw the riots stop. She heard the voice from 1945.
HOME SECRETARY
“You broke the world, Mr. Finch.”
JONATHAN
“No, Minister. I just held up a mirror to a world that was already broken.”
He offers his wrists to the men in suits. As they lead him out, he doesn’t look back at his producer or his disgraced boss. His last glance is at the Bakelite telephone, sitting silent on the desk, a relic that connected the present to its most profound and painful lesson.
[MONTAGE]
DAY 1: The UN Security Council in emergency session. The Russian ambassador, for the first time in decades, does not veto a British-led resolution. The resolution is simply a global commitment to broadcast Leah’s testimony, unedited, in every language, every year on January 27th.
WEEK 2: A university lecture hall. A history professor throws her syllabus in the bin. “Today,” she says to her stunned students, “we are going to talk about the difference between a fact and a truth.”
MONTH 3: Outside the real, preserved gates of Auschwitz-Birkenau. A small, simple plaque has been added to the memorial. It reads, in Yiddish and in English: Zayt undzer zikorn. Be our memory. A young backpacker, who looks German, quietly lays a single white rose at its base.
YEAR 1: A courtroom. Jonathan Finch, looking older, is sentenced. The judge’s words are conflicted, the expression on his face one of a deep inner turmoil. He speaks of law and order, but his voice falters when he mentions the “unprecedented nature of the evidence.” The sentence is unexpectedly light. Community service. A lifetime ban from broadcasting.
[FINAL SCENE]
EXT. A PRIMARY SCHOOL PLAYGROUND – DAY (A FEW YEARS LATER)
Jonathan Finch, greyer and softer around the edges, sits on a park bench, watching children play. He is no longer a public figure. He is just a man. He holds a small, worn book in his hands.
Anna approaches and sits beside him. She works as a freelance documentarian now, producing small, independent films about history and memory. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment.
ANNA
“They want to dismantle the Chronos device. Bury it in concrete a mile underground.”
JONATHAN (Nodding slowly, not looking up from the playground)
“Good. It did its job.”
ANNA
“Do you ever regret it? Losing everything?”
Jonathan finally looks at her. The haunted look is gone from his eyes, replaced by a quiet, settled peace.
JONATHAN
“The man who started that broadcast lost everything. And he deserved to. But I didn’t lose anything that mattered. We asked a stupid, obscene question and got the only answer that has ever made sense.”
He looks back at the children, their innocent shouts of laughter filling the air.
JONATHAN (CONT’D)
She said, “Remember that we loved, and laughed, and wept.” She didn’t ask us to stop living. She asked us to be their memory.
He closes his eyes, and for a moment, he is not in a sunny playground in 2028, but in the whistling wind of a Polish winter, listening to a thin voice humming a fractured tune. And he remembers.
[FADE TO BLACK]
[Credits Roll; Set To Emotional, Ominous yet peaceful music.]
Discovering Jeremy Lent: A Guide to a deep thinker.
In an era when humanity faces unprecedented challenges—climate change, social inequality, mental health crises, and a pervasive sense of meaninglessness—one author stands out for offering not just diagnosis, but a profound reimagining of how we understand ourselves and our world. Jeremy Lent is a systems thinker and cultural historian whose work bridges ancient wisdom and cutting-edge science to reveal how our deepest assumptions about reality shape our collective future.
If you’ve ever wondered why technical solutions alone can’t seem to solve our biggest problems, or why so many people feel disconnected despite living in the most connected age in history, Lent’s work offers compelling answers. His books don’t just analyse what’s wrong with modern civilisation—they chart a path toward what he calls an “ecological civilisation” based on recognising our fundamental interconnectedness with all life.
Understanding Cognitive Patterns: The Hidden Forces Shaping Civilisation
At the heart of Lent’s work lies a deceptively simple but revolutionary concept: cognitive patterns. These are the largely unconscious frameworks that entire cultures use to make sense of reality. Think of them as invisible mental software that determines what we notice, value, and consider possible.
To understand how powerful these patterns are, consider this example: Ancient Chinese thinkers saw reality as an interconnected web of relationships, leading to philosophies emphasising harmony and balance. Meanwhile, ancient Greek thought increasingly emphasised separation, analysis, and control—legacy thinking that would eventually give rise to our modern scientific method and industrial capitalism.
Neither approach is inherently right or wrong, but each creates different worlds. The Chinese approach fostered sustainable agricultural practices that lasted thousands of years. The Western approach enabled incredible technological advancement but also created systems that treat the natural world as a collection of resources to be exploited.
This isn’t abstract philosophy—these cognitive patterns have concrete consequences. Our economic system’s demand for infinite growth on a finite planet, our medical approach that treats symptoms rather than addressing whole-person health, our educational systems that fragment knowledge into isolated subjects—all these flow from cognitive patterns that see the world as made of separate, competing parts rather than interconnected, collaborative wholes.
*The Patterning Instinct*: A Cultural History of Human Meaning-Making
Lent’s first major work, *The Patterning Instinct: A Cultural History of Humanity’s Search for Meaning* (ISBN: 9781633882935), takes readers on an extraordinary journey through human history to reveal how different cultures have developed radically different ways of understanding reality, meaning, and purpose.
The book traces humanity’s story from our earliest ancestors to the present day, showing how each major civilisation developed its own cognitive patterns—what Lent calls “root metaphors”—that shaped everything from their art and religion to their political systems and relationship with nature. Winner of the 2017 Nautilus Silver Award, this comprehensive work demonstrates that our current world-view is not inevitable or universal, but rather one particular way of seeing that emerged from specific historical conditions.
What makes *The Patterning Instinct* particularly powerful is how it connects abstract ideas to lived experience. Lent shows how the cognitive patterns that emerged during the Scientific Revolution and Industrial Revolution—emphasising mechanism, reductionism, and endless growth—have created both incredible material progress and existential crises that threaten our survival. Showing how culture shapes values and values shape history, The Patterning Instinct provides a fresh perspective on crucial questions of the human story.
The book has received widespread critical acclaim for its scope and accessibility. The Patterning Instinct is professionally written and easy to read, even if the subject matter is difficult to comprehend. One reviewer noted that it presents “challenging and frightening conjectures, for example, that the ‘will of the people’, even in Western societies, is manipulated by a small elite group [of wealthy individuals]”, while another described it as “a truly wonderful exploration of the human search for meaning from the rise of human consciousness around 100,000 – 200,000 years ago through to today.”
Find detailed reviews of *The Patterning Instinct*:
– [GreenSpirit Book Reviews](https://www.greenspirit.org.uk/bookreviews2/2021/03/23/the-patterning-instinct-a-cultural-history-of-humanitys-search-for-meaning-by-jeremy-lent/)
*The Web of Meaning*: Integrating Science and Wisdom for a New World-view
Building on the foundation laid in his first book, Lent’s second major work, *The Web of Meaning: Integrating Science and Traditional Wisdom to Find Our Place in the Universe* (US ISBN: 9780865719545; UK ISBN: 9781788165648), moves from diagnosis to prescription. Jeremy Lent’s new book, The Web of Meaning, lays out a rich, coherent, world-view based on a deep recognition of connectedness.
This book addresses humanity’s deepest questions—who am I? why am I? how should I live?—by weaving together insights from modern systems science, evolutionary biology, and cognitive neuroscience with wisdom from Buddhism, Taoism, and indigenous traditions. The result is what one reviewer called “a magnificent manifesto for a regenerative culture and for an ecological civilisation.”
What distinguishes *The Web of Meaning* is its practical integration of scientific understanding with traditional wisdom. Rather than dismissing either modern knowledge or ancient insights, Lent demonstrates how they can work together to create a more complete understanding of human nature and our relationship with the living world. Award-winning author, Jeremy Lent, investigates humanity’s age-old questions – who am I? why am I? how should I live? – from a fresh perspective, weaving together findings from modern systems thinking, evolutionary biology and cognitive neuroscience with insights from Buddhism, Taoism and indigenous wisdom.
Critics have praised the book’s ambitious scope and accessibility. One reviewer noted, “I found it a hard book to review, simply because the information it presents is so vast and so comprehensive. But at the same time I found it the most efficiently structured book I have ever encountered. Lent has the rare ability to combine rigorous scholarship with high readability.” Another described it as “an audacious, valuable and at times mind-twisting synthesis of progressive thinking.”
Find detailed reviews of *The Web of Meaning*:
– [GreenSpirit Book Reviews](https://www.greenspirit.org.uk/bookreviews2/2021/07/27/the-web-of-meaning-integrating-science-and-traditional-wisdom-to-find-our-place-in-the-universe-by-jeremy-lent/)
– [Earthrise Blog Review](https://www.earthriseblog.org/review-of-jeremy-lents-the-web-of-meaning/)
Why Lent’s Work Matters: Beyond Individual Transformation to Civilizational Change
What makes Jeremy Lent’s contribution unique is his recognition that our current crises—environmental destruction, social fragmentation, mental health epidemics—are symptoms of deeper cognitive patterns that shape how entire civilisations operate. This means that lasting solutions require more than policy changes or technological fixes; they require what he calls a “Great Transformation” of consciousness itself.
This might sound abstract, but Lent grounds his ideas in concrete examples. He shows how indigenous cultures that survived for thousands of years developed cognitive patterns emphasising reciprocity, cyclical time, and recognition of non-human intelligence. He explores how emerging movements—from regenerative agriculture to batesian biomimicry to participatory democracy—represent early experiments in what an ecological civilisation might look like.
Lent’s work is particularly valuable for understanding why so many well-intentioned efforts to address global challenges have fallen short. Environmental campaigns that focus solely on individual behaviour change, economic theories that ignore ecological limits, educational reforms that don’t address the fragmentation of knowledge—all these miss the deeper cognitive patterns that perpetuate the problems they’re trying to solve.
Understanding Lent’s concept of cognitive patterns isn’t just intellectually interesting—it has profound practical implications for how we approach every aspect of life. Consider healthcare: Western medicine’s cognitive pattern of treating the body as a machine leads to interventions that target specific symptoms or organs, often missing the complex web of relationships between physical, mental, and social health. Traditional healing systems, operating from different cognitive patterns, often achieve better outcomes for chronic conditions by addressing the whole person within their community and environment.
Or consider education: our current system, built on cognitive patterns of separation and competition, fragments knowledge into isolated subjects and ranks students against each other. Alternative approaches based on cognitive patterns of interconnection and collaboration—like Montessori education or indigenous teaching methods—often produce students who are more creative, emotionally intelligent, and capable of systems thinking.
This isn’t about abandoning everything modern civilisation has achieved, but rather integrating its insights with wisdom from cognitive patterns that prioritise harmony, sustainability, and interconnection. Lent shows how this integration could lead to breakthrough solutions in everything from technology design to urban planning to conflict resolution.
Getting Started: A Reader’s Guide to Jeremy Lent
For newcomers to Lent’s work, I recommend starting with *The Patterning Instinct* to understand the historical foundation of his ideas, then moving to *The Web of Meaning* to explore how these insights can guide us toward a more sustainable and meaningful future. Both books are substantial—*The Patterning Instinct* runs 540 pages—but Lent’s clear writing style and engaging examples make complex ideas accessible to general readers.
What ultimately makes Jeremy Lent’s work so compelling is his recognition that we are living through one of the great transition points in human history. The cognitive patterns that enabled the rise of industrial civilisation are now threatening our survival, but new patterns are emerging that could guide us toward what he calls an “ecological civilisation”—one that recognises our fundamental interconnectedness with all life and operates within natural limits while still enabling human flourishing.
This isn’t just about changing our minds; it’s about changing the deep structures of meaning that shape entire societies. As Lent demonstrates, this kind of transformation has happened before in human history, and it can happen again. The question is whether we can make the transition quickly enough to address the multiple crises we face.
Reading Lent’s work won’t give you easy answers, but it will give you new ways of seeing that can transform how you understand yourself, your relationships, and your role in the larger web of life. In a time when so many of our challenges seem intractable, his work offers something rare and precious: a coherent vision of how humanity might not just survive, but thrive by remembering who we really are.
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*Both of Jeremy Lent’s major works are available in multiple formats from major booksellers. The Patterning Instinct (ISBN: 9781633882935) is published by Prometheus Books, while The Web of Meaning is available in different editions: US edition (ISBN: 9780865719545) from New Society Publishers and UK edition (ISBN: 9781788165648) from Profile Books.*
