The era of cognitive dissolution
Post-truth. All shit is created equal. Internet of bloody things. And cloud powered data hoarding. Hunger and obesity pandemics. Vaccines are bad and therefore kids and elderly need to be exposed to and die from childhood diseases that were once eradicated.
Sounds a lot like Nix’s rant from Tomorrowland. Except I’m not Nix, and this is today’s land. There is no parallel reality to benevolently cherry pick the ones to put our ducks back in the row. We’re stuck in a personal bubble of churn and prisoner laments:
- “How’s your shit today?”
- “Same. But, heck, got used to its taste.”
- “Have you seen that guy? He’s batshit crazy or what?”
- “Word, bro. His mom was so happy, she threw him up in the air thrice and caught him only once.”
We’ve got 3D and 4D movies. We can flex the mirrors of the Universe in search of ways to disprove Einstein. We can freeze atoms and make light our bipolar bitch. And yet we fail to see each other. Or the extent of our wrongdoings to the skin of the Earth.
As Lords of our own sand castles we’re terribly disappointed by our leaders. As if they descended from their out-worldly vimanas and are likely to torment us for the whole eternity. Under their command we paint our anger as determination, label our confusion as knowledge and break all the plates and glasses around us while diligently pointing fingers outside.
There’s an evil System, or at least some reptilian plot meant to keep us in submission. It’s not profit, or a pharaonic quest for a perfect image. It’s not about an indiscriminate pursuit for pleasuring our egos. No, we call that rights, liberties, our fucking prerogative.
We are the masters of the Galaxy, forged by chance, not by some bearded fellow upstairs, filling stones and papers with commandments. Telling us the dos and the donts. Greeks fantasized about Pandora’s box. Of leaving Hope locked. We’ve got so tired of its whining and the recurrent headaches Schrödinger’s cat gave us, that we decided to settle the debate once and for all. With a mix of shotguns and machetes. Cuz you know, even Dante was delusional regarding the location of his most famous quote. It’s on Earth’s doormat, doh!