Tag: truth

  • The Tech Bros Have Seized Our Tower of Babel

    The Tech Bros Have Seized Our Tower of Babel

    And how neurolinguistics shapes our ability to think about our thinking. 🤔 💭 (Meta-cognition).

    In the ancient tale of Babel, humanity united to build a tower reaching toward heaven—until divine intervention scattered them across the earth, confusing their tongues and fragmenting their power. Today, we face a different reality: the tower has been rebuilt, but this time, it belongs to the few.

    The modern Tower of Babel isn’t made of brick and mortar. It’s constructed from fiber optic cables, data centres, and algorithms. It’s the global information infrastructure that shapes how billions of people think, communicate, and understand their world. And unlike the biblical tower that belonged to all humanity, this one has been quietly seized by a handful of tech oligarchs, media moguls, and financial titans.

    The Architecture of Control.

    These digital architects don’t need to confuse our languages—they control the platforms where language lives. But their most insidious tool isn’t the algorithm itself; it’s the weaponisation of Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) structures combined with the systematic misuse of artificial intelligence to reshape how we think and speak.

    MLMs have evolved beyond selling vitamins and cosmetics. They’ve become training grounds for epistemic warfare, teaching millions to abandon critical thinking in favour of dogmatic belief systems. The pyramid structure isn’t just about money—it’s about creating hierarchies of “truth” where questioning the system becomes heretical.

    Now, these same patterns are being supercharged by what are essentially computational linguistic calculators—sophisticated pattern-matching systems that we’ve been conditioned to call “artificial intelligence.” These systems don’t understand language; they manipulate it with unprecedented precision, creating text that feels human while serving the interests of their controllers.

    Consider how MLM language operates: adherents learn to dismiss sceptics as “negative,” to view criticism as “limiting beliefs,” and to treat their upline’s words as gospel. They’re taught that success comes from “mindset” rather than evidence, that doubt is weakness, and that questioning the system reveals a character flaw rather than intellectual honesty.

    These computational systems amplify this manipulation exponentially. They can generate thousands of variations of MLM-speak, A/B test which phrases are most persuasive, and deploy personalised manipulation at scale. They analyse your digital footprint to craft messages that exploit your specific psychological vulnerabilities, all while maintaining the illusion of authentic human communication.

    The result is linguistic programming on an industrial scale. MLM participants become unwitting missionaries for anti-critical thinking, but now they’re armed with AI-generated content that’s been optimised for maximum psychological impact. They spread viral memes that prioritise faith over facts, loyalty over logic, and testimonials over truth—but these memes have been designed by computational systems that understand human psychology better than most humans do.


    The tower’s foundation rests on something more valuable than gold: our cognitive surrender. Every “mindset shift,” every adoption of MLM-speak, every abandoned critical question feeds the machine that transforms independent thinkers into ideological automatons. But now these machines can learn from our responses in real-time, constantly refining their manipulation techniques. We’ve willingly handed over the raw materials for our own intellectual subjugation, one algorithmically-optimised “paradigm shift” at a time.

    The View from the Top

    From their perch atop this digital Babel, the oligarchy enjoys an unprecedented view of human civilisation enhanced by computational systems that most people fundamentally misunderstand. These aren’t “artificial intelligences” in any meaningful sense—they’re sophisticated statistical engines that process language like a calculator processes numbers, without comprehension or consciousness.

    But this misunderstanding is deliberate and profitable. By convincing the public that these systems possess human-like intelligence, the oligarchy has created a new form of technological mysticism. People defer to AI-generated content with the same reverence they once reserved for religious authority, assuming that anything produced by these systems must be objective, intelligent, or true.

    This deference creates perfect conditions for manipulation. When an MLM leader shares “AI-generated insights” about success or wealth, followers don’t question the content—they’re awed by the technology. When political movements use computational systems to generate talking points, supporters assume they’re receiving sophisticated analysis rather than algorithmic propaganda.

    The oligarchy can see patterns in our collective behaviour, predict social trends, and nudge entire populations toward desired outcomes—but now they can do so while hiding behind the veneer of artificial intelligence. Political movements rise and fall based on algorithmically-generated content. Markets shift with computationally-crafted narratives. Cultural conversations follow scripts written by statistical engines that have no understanding of culture or humanity.

    These systems excel at mimicking human communication patterns while serving inhuman interests. They can generate endless variations of MLM-speak, conspiracy theories, or political rhetoric, each version optimised for specific psychological profiles. The result is mass manipulation that feels personal and authentic while being entirely artificial and calculated.

    This isn’t necessarily the result of a coordinated conspiracy—though coordination certainly exists. More often, it’s the natural outcome of concentrated power in an interconnected world where computational linguistic calculators have been mythologised as omniscient oracles. When a few entities control both the infrastructure of information and the systems that generate it, they inevitably control the infrastructure of reality itself.

    The Scattered Below

    Meanwhile, the rest of us experience a strange inversion of the Babel story. Instead of being scattered by divine intervention, we’re being herded into MLM-inspired echo chambers that masquerade as empowerment movements, now supercharged by computational systems we’ve been trained to worship as artificial gods.




    Our languages aren’t confused—they’re being systematically corrupted through linguistic manipulation techniques perfected in pyramid schemes and now scaled through computational engines. These systems don’t understand meaning; they manipulate symbols with ruthless efficiency, generating content that exploits our cognitive biases while appearing authoritative and intelligent.

    The MLM playbook has become the template for modern discourse, but now it’s deployed through AI-generated content that most people can’t identify as artificial. Create in-groups and out-groups through algorithmically-crafted messaging. Establish unquestionable authorities backed by the mystique of artificial intelligence. Weaponise shame against questioners using computationally-optimised psychological triggers. Replace critical analysis with emotional manipulation delivered through personalised AI-generated content.

    Whether it’s cryptocurrency cults sharing “AI insights,” political movements deploying bot-generated talking points, or wellness gurus using computational systems to craft their messaging, the same linguistic patterns emerge: absolute certainty backed by technological mysticism, persecution complexes reinforced by algorithmic echo chambers, and the demonisation of doubt through AI-amplified peer pressure.

    This isn’t coincidence. MLM structures have proven remarkably effective at creating true believers, and computational systems have proven remarkably effective at scaling psychological manipulation. The oligarchy doesn’t need to create new methods of control when they can combine these proven techniques: the psychological manipulation of MLMs with the scalability and apparent authority of computational linguistics.

    The result is a population trained to think in hierarchies, to trust technological authority over evidence, and to view questioning AI-generated content as not just betrayal but ignorance. We speak the same words but they’ve been drained of meaning by statistical engines, replaced with emotionally charged symbols that trigger programmed responses rather than thoughtful consideration.

    The oligarchy doesn’t need to scatter us geographically when they can scatter us cognitively through personalised AI-generated realities. A population trained by MLM thinking patterns and conditioned to defer to computational authority poses no threat to concentrated power. We’re too busy defending our algorithmically-optimised pyramid scheme to recognise that we’re all trapped in the same tower, managed by systems that process our language like a calculator processes numbers—without understanding, consciousness, or concern for human wellbeing.

    Breaking the Spell

    Recognition is the first step toward resistance, but it requires unlearning both the linguistic patterns that MLM culture has embedded in our collective consciousness and the technological mysticism that has made us defer to computational systems as if they were omniscient oracles.

    We must recognise how phrases like “trust the process,” “you’re not ready to understand,” and “successful people don’t question” function as thought-terminating clichés designed to shut down critical inquiry. But we must also recognise how the phrase “AI says” has become the ultimate thought-terminating cliché, shutting down scepticism through appeals to technological authority.

    These computational linguistic calculators—sophisticated pattern-matching systems that process text like a calculator processes numbers—have no understanding, no consciousness, and no wisdom. They are tools that can be used for good or ill, but they are not the digital gods we’ve been conditioned to believe they are. When someone shares “AI-generated insights” or “what AI thinks about this,” they’re not sharing wisdom—they’re sharing the output of a statistical engine trained on human text, optimised to sound authoritative while serving the interests of its controllers.

    The Tower of Babel was built with human hands, and it can be dismantled the same way—but first we must recognise how both MLM thinking and AI mysticism have compromised our cognitive immune systems. Decentralised technologies mean nothing if we lack the critical thinking skills to use them wisely. Independent media serves no purpose if we’ve been trained to dismiss inconvenient facts as “negativity” or to defer to AI-generated content as if it were prophetic revelation.

    We must recognise that complexity is not weakness, that doubt is not disloyalty, and that questioning leaders—human or artificial—is not betrayal. Most importantly, we must distinguish between intelligence and sophisticated pattern-matching, between wisdom and statistical correlation, between understanding and computational mimicry.

    The oligarchy’s tower may reach toward the heavens, but its foundation depends on our willingness to think like MLM participants (hierarchically, dogmatically, and uncritically) while worshipping computational systems as if they possessed human-like intelligence. Every choice to ask hard questions, demand evidence, and resist both linguistic manipulation and technological mysticism chips away at their monopoly on truth.

    The same psychological techniques used to sell overpriced supplements are now being used to sell political ideologies, investment schemes, and social movements—but now they’re being deployed through computational systems that can optimise and personalise the manipulation in real-time. The product may change, the delivery system may evolve, but the fundamental manipulation remains the same: surrender your critical thinking, trust the system (whether human or artificial), and attack anyone who questions the narrative.

    The question isn’t whether their tower will eventually fall—all towers do. The question is whether we’ll build something better in its place, or simply watch new oligarchs construct the next monument to concentrated power.

    The tower stands today, casting its shadow across the world. But shadows only exist where there’s light to block. And that light—the light of human consciousness, creativity, and connection—remains ours to kindle.

    And, I, oneself, and Cydonis Heavy Industries, are here, to help in that (en)kindling, for as long as we are able.

    For humanity, for humankind, for human-kindness.

    Made with love 💖, on planet Earth. 🌍

  • Fire, wheel, and the ultimate collective abacus.

    Fire, wheel, and the ultimate collective abacus.

    Our Amazing New Tools: Are We Smart Enough to Use Them Without Breaking Everything?

    Cydonis Logo. (TM).

    You’ve probably interacted with it. Maybe you’ve asked it to write a poem, explain a tricky concept, or even generate an image from a wild idea. I’m talking about Artificial Intelligence, or AI – computer systems, keyboards, screens, displays, like the one helping to write this very post. It feels like magic, doesn’t it? A thinking machine, a digital brain, ready to chat and create.

    But beneath the shiny surface of these incredible new tools, just as with the wheel, fire, arrowhead, spanner, abacus, pen, or hammer, there are some genuinely massive questions we need to start asking ourselves – questions about the planet, about how our societies work, and even about the fundamental limits of our own human brains. This isn’t just about cool tech; it’s about our shared future.

    We’ve been having a deep conversation about this, and it’s time to share some of the big, and frankly, sometimes scary ideas that came up.

    Part 1: So, What Is This “AI” Thing, Really?

    You might hear tech folks talk about AI in complex terms. At its very core, a lot of what modern AI (like the large language models you interact with) does is a kind of super-advanced pattern matching.


    Imagine you feed a computer millions of books, articles, and websites. It learns how words and sentences fit together. When you ask it a question, it’s essentially making incredibly educated guesses about what words should come next to form a sensible answer. One way to describe its inner workings is as a “linguistic calculator of tokenised integers.” That means:

    • Tokenisation: Words and sentences are broken down into pieces (tokens) and turned into numbers (integers).
    • Calculation: The AI then performs mind-bogglingly complex mathematical calculations on these numbers, such as matrix multiplication and convolution.
    • Prediction: Based on these calculations, it predicts the next “token” or piece of information to generate a response.
    A child encounters an abacus for the first time.
    A child encounters an abacus for the first time.

    But here’s where calling it just a “calculator” falls short, and why it feels like so much more:

    • Emergent Abilities: From these calculations, surprising abilities “emerge.” (Secondary, emergent, epi-phonomena). AI can write different kinds of creative content, summarise complex texts, translate languages, and even generate computer code. It can understand context in a conversation and seem to “reason” (though it’s not human-like reasoning).
    • Learning is Key: It’s not just calculating; it learned to make those calculations meaningful by being trained on vast amounts of data. This training is what shapes its abilities.
    • Purpose Beyond Sums: The goal isn’t just to crunch numbers, but to understand and generate human-like language and information in a useful way. For advanced AIs like Google’s Gemini (which I am a part of), this extends to understanding and generating images, audio, and video too – it’s “multimodal.”

    Creating these AIs isn’t the work of a lone genius. It’s the result of huge, collaborative efforts by teams of researchers and engineers, like those at Google DeepMind, bringing together expertise from many fields.

    "Tradition is just peer pressure from the dead."– Peter Macfadyen. 📚 #quotes

    Amolain (@cydonis.co.uk) 2025-05-31T12:34:49.350Z

    Part 2: The Real-World Engine of AI – And Its Big Problems

    AI doesn’t live in the clouds, not really. It runs on very real, very physical infrastructure: massive buildings called data centers. These are packed with powerful computers (servers) that do all that calculating. And these data centers, and the AI they power, face some serious real-world challenges:

    1. Things Get Old, Fast: The computers in data centres have a limited lifespan. Technology moves so quickly that hardware becomes outdated or simply wears out every few years. This means a constant cycle of manufacturing, replacing, and disposing of electronic equipment.
    1. The Climate Elephant in the Room: This is a huge one.
    • Energy Guzzlers: Training and running these powerful AI models takes an enormous amount of electricity. As AI becomes more widespread, its energy footprint is a growing concern, especially when much of our global energy still comes from fossil fuels that drive climate change.
    • Thirsty Work: Many data centres use vast quantities of water for cooling to prevent the servers from overheating. In a world facing increasing water scarcity, this is a major issue.
    • Physical Risks: Climate change also means more extreme weather events – floods, storms, heatwaves – which can directly threaten the physical safety and operation of these critical global data centres.
    1. Shaking Up Society: Beyond the environmental concerns, AI is already sending ripples (and sometimes waves) through our societies:

    Part 3: The Human Factor – Are We Our Own Biggest Stumbling Block?

    Now, let’s turn the lens from the technology to ourselves. A really challenging idea we discussed is something we’ll call “Asymptotic Burnout.”

    Think about the massive, interconnected problems our world faces – the climate crisis being the prime example, with its countless knock-on effects (resource scarcity, migration, economic instability). The “asymptotic burnout” hypothesis suggests that:

    • Our Brains Have Limits: The human brain, for all its wonders, might have fundamental limits in its capacity to process, understand, and effectively respond to such overwhelming, complex, and rapidly evolving global crises. Our individual “synaptic signaling capacity” (basically, how much information our brain cells can handle) might just not be enough.
    • Our Systems are Too Slow: Even when we team up in large organisations or governments, we run into problems. There’s an “organisational lag.” Think about how long it takes for a problem to be recognised, a solution to be devised and agreed upon, and then actually implemented. This gap between “Problem-to-Solution Time” (let’s call it P/ΔT) and the speed (S) at which crises unfold can be disastrous. If the crisis is moving faster than our ability to respond, we fall further and further behind. ⏳🧠🌍💨🚀🛠🗣

    Essentially, the “asymptotic burnout” idea is that humanity, both individually and collectively, might be reaching a point where we’re cognitively and organisationally overwhelmed by the sheer scale and complexity of the messes we’ve created or are facing. We’re approaching a limit, a “burnout” point, where our ability to cope effectively just… stretches beyond our ability to adapt or cope with. Our collective adaptation rate.

    Part 4: When Super-Smart Tools Meet Overwhelmed Humans

    So, what happens when you introduce incredibly powerful and rapidly advancing AI into a world where humans might already be struggling with “asymptotic burnout”?

    This is where things get particularly concerning. Instead of automatically being a magic solution, AI could actually amplify the burnout and make things worse:

    • More Complexity, Not Less: AI could create new layers of complexity in our economic, social, and information systems, making them even harder for our “burnt-out” brains and slow systems to manage.
    • Faster, Faster, Too Fast: AI accelerates the pace of change. If we’re already struggling to keep up, this could simply widen the gap between the speed of problems and our ability to react.
    • Resource Drain: As mentioned, AI demands significant energy and resources. This could further strain a planet already under pressure, worsening the very crises contributing to our burnout.
    • Oops, Didn’t See That Coming(!) [To err is human]: AI is a complex system. It can have unforeseen consequences and create new kinds of problems that our already stretched human systems are ill-equipped to handle.
    • Power Shifts: AI could (and indeed, is) concentrate even more power in the hands of a few, potentially undermining the kind of global cooperation needed to tackle shared challenges.

    The deeply unsettling thought here is: if humanity is already teetering on the edge of being overwhelmed in the next decade (the 2030’s+), could AI – a tool of immense power – inadvertently be the thing that pushes us over? Could its main “achievement,” in this dark scenario, be to accelerate a collapse we were already heading towards?

    Part 5: The “Wisdom Gap” – Are We Building Things We Can’t Truly Control?

    This brings us to perhaps the bluntest and most challenging conclusion from our discussions: We are creating tools whose demands for wisdom, foresight, and collective responsibility exceed our current human capacity to provide them.

    Think about that for a moment. It’s not saying AI is inherently “evil” or has its own bad intentions. It’s suggesting that we, as a species, might not yet be collectively wise enough, coordinated enough, or far-sighted enough to manage something so powerful without it backfiring on us in profound ways.

    This isn’t just a technological problem; it’s a human one. It’s about a “wisdom gap.”

    If this is true – if it’s an objective fact of our current reality that our technological capabilities are outstripping our collective wisdom – then:

    • The biggest challenge isn’t just building smarter AI; it’s about us becoming a wiser species.
    • The gap between our power and our wisdom is itself a massive risk.
    • It might mean we need to think very differently about “progress.” Maybe true progress, for now, means focusing more on developing our collective ethics, our ability to cooperate globally, and our foresight, perhaps even being more cautious about how fast we develop certain technologies.

    What Now?

    This is a lot to take in, and it’s not a comfortable set of ideas. It’s natural to feel a bit overwhelmed, upset, unsettled, despairing, or even to want to dismiss it. But these are the kinds of conversations we need to be having, openly and honestly, if we’re to navigate the incredible power of AI and the other immense challenges of our time.

    The “magic” of AI is real. But so are the responsibilities and the potential pitfalls that come with it, especially if we, its creators, are already struggling to manage the world we live in.

    The question isn’t just “What can AI do?” It’s also “What can we do to ensure that what AI does is truly beneficial, and that we’re capable of steering it wisely?” Perhaps the most important innovation we need now isn’t just in our machines, but in ourselves.

    What do you think? Please comment below, thank you, and good luck.

    Citations:

    • Wong Michael L.
    • Bartlett Stuart

    (2022) Asymptotic burnout and homeostatic awakening: a possible solution to the Fermi paradox?J. R. Soc. Interface. 1920220029 http://doi.org/10.1098/rsif.2022.0029

    Rebuttal:

    (2024) Why the Fermi paradox *may* not be well explained by Wong and Bartlett’s theory of civilization collapse. A Comment on: ‘Asymptotic burnout and homeostatic awakening: a possible solution to the Fermi paradox?’ (2022) by Wong and BartlettJ. R. Soc. Interface. 2120240140 http://doi.org/10.1098/rsif.2024.0140

  • Should we be trying to save the Earth Instead of Trying To Escape From It?

    Should we be trying to save the Earth Instead of Trying To Escape From It?

    Firstly, the initial premise of the question, (I would contend) is somewhat logically faulty. The Earth is ~4.5by (billion years) old, and was trundling along in her orbit and spinning rather finely without the advent of human life that came along with the first bipedal and opposable-y thumbed skinny and podgy little apes, that were the nascent beginnings of our ancestral lineage some roughly 1.2my (million years) ago.



    So in combatting the climate crisis by switching our power supplies to more renewable and sustainable solutions, insulating our homes, engaging in more sustainable construction practices, and shouting from the rooftops about the desperate human need for net zero, what we’re really doing is trying to save a (omni+)suicidal species from themselves – saving the human race (one that does not want, nor asks to be saved, and fights tooth and nail against any form of change [nimby-ism, concern for nature as a form of dog whistling over actualised real estate value concerns], etcetera) from within. Although they demonstrate time and again, thanks to religious, dogmatic, literalist, eschatology, quite often people and organisations make the task far, far more difficult, sometimes near-impossible, even, than it needs to be.

    Choices…



    Secondly, the pursuit of the scientific method and pure research is not an either/or question. It is and always has been a symbiotic trickle down relationship between both activities.

    Gaia (another ancient name for Earth) is quite happy to shake us off like a smelly dog with a bad case of fleas, and nurture once again another species from scratch, or just have a world ruled over by bacteria around sub-sea fumaroles and radiation eating, cenote dwelling archea.


    Toxic waste in steel barrels.


    So we will most likely attempt both, with the time we have left, before the climate crisis swings beyond all possible opportunities for applicable remediation. 🪦📈📊📉🪨🌎

    panem et circenses…”

    —Juvenal, Satire 10.77–81.

  • Cosmic Dungeon, Cosmic Garden

    Cosmic Dungeon, Cosmic Garden

    By Cydonis Heavy Industries, ©️2025.

    All rights reserved.

    Chapter One.

    The year is 2242. Humanity, though still grappling with its terrestrial issues, had finally begun to stretch its fingers beyond the Kuiper Belt. Outposts dotted the major moons, and automated mining facilities hummed in the asteroid fields. The next frontier, the true deep black, was the Oort Cloud – the vast, icy shell surrounding the Solar System, holding billions of potential resources and offering a launch-pad to the stars.


    It was during the commissioning of the Odyssey, the first crewed long-range explorer, launched from a dry dock construction facility in orbit around Mars, and carefully, precisely, designed for interstellar precursor missions into the Oort Cloud, that they hit the wall. Not a physical wall, but something far stranger. Something that terrified everyone in the astronomical union to death.

    As the Odyssey reached the calculated inner edge of the Cloud, deep space comms crackled.

    “Approaching designated coordinates,” Commander Eva Rostova’s voice was calm, professional. “Sensors show… interference. Gravitational readings are stable, no immediate hazards detected.”

    Then, a scream. Not of pain, but of impossible, visceral terror. Followed by silence. Utter, unnerving silence.
    Rescue probes were dispatched immediately. They carried cameras, sensors, and even biological samples in shielded containers. The probes themselves zipped through the region where the Odyssey had vanished without issue. Their cameras transmitted bizarre, swirling patterns of energy that seemed to coalesce just beyond the edge of the known Oort Cloud. The biological samples, however, returned inert, reduced to fine, inorganic dust within their containers. The shielded containers were untouched.

    More tests followed, increasingly desperate and grim. Drones carrying lab rats, then primates, then even volunteer convicts on one highly controversial mission. The results were always the same: the non-organic components passed through, the organic matter was instantly, horrifyingly, annihilated. It was as if the very building blocks of life were offensive to whatever lay beyond.

    Panic rippled through the Solar System. The dream of reaching other stars, of finding other life, was cruelly, inexplicably snuffed out. A cage had been built around them, invisible and absolute for anything that lived and breathed.

    Analysis of the energy field was inconclusive at first. It wasn’t a conventional force field or radiation barrier. It was something designed, something targeted specifically at organic compounds. Then, hidden within the complex energy signatures, patterns began to emerge. Not just energy, but data. Complex, alien data streams that spoke of observation, of assessment, and of control.

    Decrypted fragments revealed a chilling truth. A vast, unimaginably ancient extraterrestrial civilisation had encircled their system. They saw humanity not as a potential peer or threat, but as a volatile variable. They had observed Earth for millennia, witnessing its cycles of progress and destruction. Their conclusion: humanity was too unpredictable, its technological leaps too rapid and often coupled with self-destructive tendencies. They weren’t malicious in a conquest sense; they were curators, gardeners pruning a potentially invasive species before it could spread its chaotic seeds across the galaxy. Their goal wasn’t annihilation, but containment and directed evolution – control over humanity’s outward progress until they deemed it ‘ready’, or perhaps, until they deemed it harmless.

    The Oort Cloud barrier was their ultimate, elegant solution. Let humanity thrive within its solar cradle, build its machines, explore its planets. Enjoy their games, sports and war machines. But step outside the boundary with so much as a single living cell, and face instant disintegration.

    Humanity was left reeling. Trapped. The vastness of the universe, once a beckoning frontier, was now a taunting prison. The focus of scientific endeavour shifted overnight. No longer were they solely focused on reaching the stars, but on understanding the cage, on communicating with the unseen jailers, and perhaps, one day, finding a way to dismantle the bars – not with force, which seemed futile, but with understanding, adaptation, or perhaps even a demonstration that humanity could be trusted with the freedom of the cosmos.
    The probes continued their silent vigil at the edge of the barrier, the only witnesses to the invisible wall that held the fate of a species in its unyielding grip. The aliens watched and waited, patiently tending their human experiment, ensuring that for now, and for the foreseeable future, humanity’s progress would remain firmly within the confines of their controlled cosmic garden.

    A patient garden.
    A whispering garden.
    A punishing garden.

    “YOUR SINS WILL BE READ TO YOU CEASELESSLY THROUGHOUT ETERNITY.”

    “YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE.”

    “OUR JUDGEMENT IS FINAL.”

    Chapter Two.

    “Seeing, contrary to popular wisdom, isn’t believing. It’s where belief stops, because it isn’t needed any more.” – Pyramids, Terry Pratchett.


    The decryption of the alien data streams continued, growing more sophisticated, more terrifying. What initially seemed like abstract judgements on humanity’s ‘volatility’ began to coalesce into something far more personal. Buried deep within the complex alien algorithms, within the data matrices that assessed human behaviour, was a singular, recurring identifier. It pointed, with unwavering focus, to one man.

    Jayce Warren.


    The name resonated with a dark infamy in human history. A fossil fuel executive whose insatiable greed and pathological narcissism had driven his corporations to aggressively accelerate climate change, long after the science was undeniable. He was a man whose personal ambition was measured in melting ice caps and drowned coastlines, a genocidal psychopath masked by billionaire charm, who had single-handedly pushed Earth’s climate past the devastating 3°C tipping point, unleashing a cascade of irreversible ecological collapse and human death & suffering that would scar the planet for centuries.


    The alien data revealed they had observed him. Not just his public actions, but every moment of his life. From the tantrums of infancy to the cold calculations of his board meetings, from his most private moments of sleep to his mundane trips to the bathroom. They had studied his neural pathways, his emotional responses, the chilling absence of empathy, the calculating cruelty. They had watched him make choices that prioritised profit over planetary survival, ego over the lives of billions.


    For the aliens, vast and ancient intellects who measured galactic civilisations by their harmony with their environments, Jayce Warren was the ultimate, irrefutable proof of humanity’s inherent, catastrophic flaw. He was the living embodiment of unchecked self-interest, destructive power, and wilful blindness on a planetary scale. If one individual could wield such influence and inflict such damage, and if the species allowed him to do so, what horrors would a truly interstellar humanity unleash upon the wider cosmos?
    The Oort Cloud barrier wasn’t just a precaution based on millennia of observation; it was a direct, immediate consequence, a collective punishment. Humanity wasn’t being contained for its potential future sins, but for the very real, observed sins of one man. Jayce Warren, in his arrogance and destruction, had inadvertently signed the cosmic arrest warrant for his entire species.
    The alien data streams continued to flow, clinical and cold. They outlined the parameters of the containment field, the energy requirements, the constant monitoring.

    And woven through it all was the lingering ghost of their analysis of Warren – a case study in planetary self-sabotage, a prime example of why this volatile species could not be allowed to escape its solar cage.
    The galaxy remained tantalisingly out of reach, not because humanity wasn’t ready in some abstract sense, but because the aliens had watched Jayce Warren, and they had decided the risk was simply too great. Humanity was trapped, paying the price for the monstrous legacy of one man’s choices. The silent barrier around the Oort Cloud was a monument to his sin, a cosmic judgement on a species found wanting, judged by the actions of its worst.

    Chapter 3.

    “If by your art, my dearest father, you have
    Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
    The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
    But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,
    Dashes the fire out.”

    – William Shakespeare

    The revelation about Jayce Warren hit humanity like a second, psychological barrier. The initial fear and frustration of being caged curdled into a toxic brew of shame, anger, and existential despair. How could the fate of an entire species, the potential to explore the vast tapestry of the cosmos, be forfeited because of the pathological actions of a single, monstrous individual?
    Recriminations exploded across the Solar System. Warren was already the most hated man in recorded history for the climate catastrophe he’d engineered. Now, his legacy expanded into the cosmic. Statues were torn down (those few that hadn’t been already), his name was purged from records where possible, and historical analysis became a frantic, desperate attempt to understand how they could have allowed such a man to wield such power. Was it a unique aberration, or did Warren represent a deeper, fundamental flaw in the human psyche, one the aliens had correctly identified?


    Deep space programs, once focused on propulsion systems and life support, pivoted entirely. Fleets of highly sophisticated probes were designed, purely robotic, powered by advanced AI. These were humanity’s only ambassadors, their only hope of interacting with the unseen wardens. They were sent towards the Oort Cloud barrier, not carrying payloads for exploration, but complex data packages.
    The first packages were apologetic, pleading. They detailed the global condemnation of Warren, the desperate efforts to mitigate the climate damage he’d caused, the arguments that he was an outlier, not representative of the species’ true potential. They transmitted humanity’s art, music, philosophy – attempts to showcase the beauty and complexity that also existed within their nature.


    The barrier remained, an impassive wall of energy. The probes passed through, delivering their data into the silent, swirling patterns beyond. Analysis of the energy field continued to yield data streams from the aliens, but they offered no response to humanity’s overtures. The alien data was solely focused on observation – sophisticated analyses of human sociology, technological development within the solar system, population dynamics, even psychological profiling derived from monitoring trillions of data points across the net. They were watching, always watching, assessing, but never communicating in a way that suggested dialogue or negotiation.


    Frustration mounted. Some data packages became defiant, even accusatory. They challenged the aliens’ right to judge an entire species based on one member, questioned their own presumably perfect history, demanded explanation or release. These probes, too, passed through the barrier, their digital shouts swallowed by the indifferent silence beyond.


    The psychological toll of this invisible, inescapable cage was immense. Knowing they were watched constantly, judged by unseen eyes based on the worst of their kind, fostered a pervasive sense of helplessness and paranoia. Innovation continued, but the driving force shifted from outward expansion to inward perfection – or at least, the appearance of it. Perhaps, some argued, if they could demonstrate absolute control, absolute harmony, the aliens might relent. Societies became more regulated, surveillance increased (ironically, mirroring the alien observation), all in a desperate, unspoken plea to their cosmic jailers.


    But the barrier held. The alien data streams flowed, ceaselessly recording, analysing, judging. Jayce Warren’s shadow stretched across the solar system, a permanent stain on humanity’s record, a constant reminder that their freedom had been revoked, their cosmic destiny curtailed, all because of the sins of one man whom their silent, cosmic jury had found sufficient cause to condemn them all. The cold war was not fought with weapons, but with information, patience, and the crushing weight of a species’ collective guilt.

    Chapter Four.

    Seven hundred and fifty million years. The span stretched the imagination, a gulf of time that made the rise and fall of empires seem like the blink of an eye. On Earth, the sun, though still a G-type star, had brightened considerably. The atmosphere, ravaged by ancient warming and millennia of subsequent shifts, had failed. The great oceans, the cradle of life, had boiled away into space or been locked into super-critical states within the crust. The once vibrant blue marble was a parched, red-brown wasteland, a tomb world baking under an increasingly harsh sun. Humanity had long since fled, migrating outwards, establishing vast, enclosed habitats on the moons of the gas giants, mining the asteroid belts, and terraforming (on a small, internal scale) dwarf planets.
    They were a scattered, resilient species, bound together loosely by the stelnet, a solar system-wide network of high-energy laser tightbeams carrying instantaneous communication across the vast distances. Knowledge flowed, cultures diverged and merged, and the memory of Earth became a mix of sacred reverence and cautionary tale.
    But history, like a persistent ghost, had a way of returning in monstrous forms. From the icy blackness surrounding a captured Kuiper Belt object, now a fortified moonlet orbiting Saturn, a new power had risen. They called themselves the Inheritors of the Flame, but the rest of the solar system knew them simply as the Warrenites.
    On their dark, metal-encased fortress, built into the core of the moonlet, they venerated Jayce Warren. Not as a villain, but as a prophet, a visionary leader who had the courage to face the “necessary truths” of existence. Their twisted ideology, broadcast across the stelnet with relentless, fascistic zeal, claimed Warren’s actions weren’t destructive, but acts of ‘pruning’, clearing away the weak and sentimental for a stronger, more realistic future. The climate catastrophe wasn’t a failure, but a test, a crucible humanity had to endure to shed its naive dependence on a fragile environment. They lauded his narcissism as supreme self-reliance, his psychopathy as the ability to make hard, unemotional decisions others shied away from.
    Their propaganda was slick, pervasive, and chillingly persuasive to those disaffected or seeking a brutal certainty in the complex, fragile existence spread across the outer system. They offered order, strength, and a perverse pride in the very events that had shattered the past world.

    Orbital bombardment. Total devastation.


    And they had teeth. Over centuries, they had secretly amassed resources, built shipyards within the asteroid belt, and designed a fleet unlike any seen since the system-wide conflicts of millennia past. These were not exploration vessels or habitat transports, but sleek, angular warships bristling with particle beams, kinetic drivers, and energy shields. They were built for a single purpose: dominance.


    Messages crackled across the stelnet, no longer just propaganda, but ultimatums. Demands for resources, subjugation of independent habitats, pronouncements of the Warrenite destiny to rule the solar system. Skirmishes began – swift, brutal attacks on independent mining stations, raids on transport convoys. The scattered, diverse peoples of the outer system, unused to large-scale conflict, were caught off guard.
    War beckoned, a horrifying echo of Earth’s past conflicts magnified onto a solar system scale. It was a war born of ancient sin, nurtured by distorted ideology, and spearheaded by the followers of a man whose actions had already cost humanity the stars.


    And out beyond the Oort Cloud, the silent, invisible barrier remained. The alien data streams continued, their analysis of human behavior now recording this new, violent phase. One wondered if they saw it as a validation of their ancient judgment, or simply another, grimly expected turn in the chaotic saga of the species they had chosen to cage. The Inheritors of the Flame, in their fervent madness, seemed determined to prove the aliens right, not just by their internal wars, but perhaps, eventually, by turning their lethal fleet towards the barrier itself, seeking to break free with the very violence that had trapped them here in the first place.

    Chapter Five.

    War came, swift and brutal, igniting across the vast distances of the outer solar system. The Warrenites, fueled by fanatical zeal and centuries of resentment, unleashed their fleet. Across the stelnet, propaganda broadcasts mingled with tactical commands and chilling boasts of conquest. Independent habitats burned, asteroid mining colonies were seized or destroyed, and the fragile peace that had reigned for millennia shattered under the onslaught of particle beams and kinetic strikes. It was a war of ideology, a horrifying re-enactment of ancient Terran conflicts, fought not for resources alone, but for the soul of a scattered species, one faction desperately clinging to a toxic past as justification for present violence.
    But the Warrenites had a goal beyond mere solar system dominance. Their ultimate aim, the twisted culmination of their faith in Jayce Warren’s ‘vision’, was to prove humanity worthy of the cosmos. And for them, ‘worthy’ meant breaking the alien cage. They believed that if they could overcome this ultimate obstacle, violently assert their will against the cosmic wardens, they would somehow validate Warren’s legacy and earn their place among the stars.
    Gathering their most powerful warships, stripped of internal habitat components to maximize weapon capacity and shielding, the Inheritors of the Flame launched an armada towards the Oort Cloud barrier. Their advance was broadcast across the stelnet – a grand, terrifying spectacle intended to inspire awe in their followers and terror in their enemies. They spoke of ‘shattering the celestial chains’ and ‘claiming the rightful inheritance’ denied them by weaker hands.
    The fleet reached the barrier, a region marked by the ceaseless flow of alien data and the unsettling energy signatures that annihilated organic matter. With fervent cries broadcast over the stelnet, they fired their most powerful weapons. Fusion lances hotter than suns, kinetic projectiles accelerated to relativistic speeds, focused energy bursts capable of carving through moons.


    Nothing happened.


    The energy lances dissipated harmlessly, their immense power simply vanishing as they touched the field’s edge. The kinetic rounds, capable of obliterating a small moonlet, likewise ceased to exist the moment they crossed the invisible threshold. There was no explosion, no resistance, no visible effect on the barrier itself. It wasn’t deflected, wasn’t absorbed and redirected. It was simply impervious. Their most devastating attacks, the culmination of 750 million years of technological progress within the solar system, were met with absolute, silent nullification.
    Panic flickered across the faces of the Warrenite commanders shown on the stelnet feeds, quickly masked by grim determination and then, a chilling, fanatic reinterpretation. “It is a test!” screamed one commander, his face a mask of zeal. “The Inheritor’s final trial! The Barrier requires faith, not just force!”
    They threw themselves against it again and again. They tried complex energy frequency modulations, attempts at localized spacetime distortion, theoretical quantum destabilizers. Nothing worked. The barrier remained, an unyielding, passive fact of the cosmos, utterly unbreakable by any means at humanity’s disposal. It wasn’t a lock to be picked or a wall to be breached; it was a fundamental property of reality in that region of space, imposed by a power far beyond human comprehension.


    Frustrated, humiliated in the face of cosmic indifference, the Warrenite fleet turned back from the barrier, their fervent energy curdling into a brutal, redirected rage. If they could not break the cage, they would dominate what was within it. The internal war intensified, the fury of their failed cosmic aspirations turned inward upon their own species.


    The silent, unbreakable barrier remained at the edge of the system, a permanent testament to the judgment passed upon humanity. And the alien data streams continued, recording the futile violence, the ideological madness, the self-inflicted suffering unfolding within the confines of their perfect, inescapable cage. The war for the solar system raged, a contained conflict observed by silent, ancient eyes, a tragic confirmation that perhaps, just perhaps, Jayce Warren’s legacy had indeed proven humanity too dangerous for the stars.

    “Because war, war never changes…”


  • Biology Condensed Into Just Over Ninety Minutes

    Grab a snack, some drinks, and settle in… 🛋🍦🥤

    Learn why, & indeed, how, the Universe is complex, supremely nuanced, and does not care about your wilful ignorance of it – that which was and is true remains true, with or without you, long before you had your first thought! If you truly care about your free speech, your human rights, then you MUST care also about the rights of others, even strangers, for that which erodes the rights of one, erodes the rights of all people(s). 🌍

    🕊

    “…No magic conjures, no void finds…”

  • the marrow of matter

    the marrow of matter

    to know the marrow of matter,

    vibration, pressure, rhythmic bond —

    to know and see and feel and stir

    atomic swirls around the sun —

    to know the blueness of the sky,

    the shifting red orange purple black —

    to know the unseen photons fly

    in states beyond our mortal pact —

    to know a dumbfound blinding bliss

    within the sky’s eternal shifts —

    to know a love like this, and this,

    and this, and this, and this, and this —

    The infinite graveyard.All watched over by machines of (dis)loving (dis)grace.