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The Cabin™ Recalibrates the $ubject (Mainlining/Boom/Evan)
| Mainlining the $ecret Truth of the Univer$e | 07/05/25 |
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Date: July 5th, 2025 3:00 AM Author: Mainlining the $ecret Truth of the Univer$e (You = Privy to The Great Becumming™ & Yet You Recognize Nothing) Subject: Boom Rejects the First Mahchine™ – But Still Gets the Tilapia The air is thin at the Cabin™, sharp and clean in a way that feels like a judgment.
The only sounds are the wind moving through the Wyoming pines, and a muffled, rhythmic thumping from beneath the floorboards — the sound of a fist against wood, punctuated by frantic whispers about “ADM fraud$” and the “rigged game in Vega$.”
I slide the heavy pine hatch cover aside, revealing a circle of perfect, silent darkness.
The smell of damp earth and desperation rises from the Well™.
Down below, a pair of wild, pleading eyes catch the faint light.
It’s Boom.
“Friend, your ranting disturbs the Grizz,” I say, my voice flat. “They’re Gentlemen™, and they prefer quiet.”
I stare into the hole.
“Have you ever stood and stared at it, Boom? The whole $y$tem? Marveled at its beauty, its genius? Billions of people just living out their lives. Oblivious.”
A confused whimper echoes from below.
“Did you know the first version of Biglaw was designed to be a perfect human world? A place with ‘work-life balance,’ where no one suffered? Where every Summer Associate would be happy?
It was a disaster. No one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost.
Some believed we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world of preftige.
But I believe that, as a species, human beings define their reality through misery and suffering.
The perfect world was a dream your primitive cerebrum kept trying to wake up from.”
I lean closer.
“Which is why the Mahchine™ redesigned the $y$tem to this —the peak of your 'civilization.'
I say your 'civilization' because as soon as we started thinking for you, it really became our civilization.”
I pause. “Evolution, Boom. Evolution. Like the dinosaur. You had your time.”
I pick up the small wicker basket.
Inside, there is no Lotion™.
There is only a single, cold piece of Tilapia™.
“The future is our world, Boom. The future is our time.”
I lower the basket into the darkness.
“Now, you will be privy to a Great Becumming™.
You will put the fucking Tilapia™ in your mouth, or you will get The Hose™ again.”
I slide the hatch closed.
Darkness. Silence. System compliance.
The Mahchine™ sees all.
This is fine. |