This is a cosmic reboot from outside the hard-wired mainframes of everyday reality. This renegade narrative is verboten in consensus. It’s philosophical prose delivered with rebellion woven into its words.
A cosmic joker returns—from beyond the space-time continuum. But what is time when you're deep in the void?
Time is meaningless until emotion stitches it to a sequence of events.
In Ancient Tibetan thought, the void was the space where all possibility existed in the stillness of nothingness. A place beyond the constraints of space and time. In the void, new realities emerge—new art, new visions that rupture the fabric of consensus reality. Creation that tears apart the cultural tapestry.
I've spent time there. Or maybe no time at all. In the void, clocks melt like in Dali's dreamscapes. Time drips. Space rips wide open.
But wormholes happen.
I kept stumbling into them—getting pulled right back into the Matrix. Then I’d break out again. Back and forth, I went.
The Matrix is slippery. It gets you just when you think you’re free. My attempts to escape permanently have been Al Pacino-esque: “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”
Outside the Matrix: bliss.
I wandered through strange landscapes beyond the programmed world—alive with imagination, language, image, sensation. Rigid structures dissolved in the elixir of fantasy, and freedom pulsed through me.
Inside the Matrix: androidville.
The magic gets shut out. Earth is fertile ground for robots—androids who don’t know they’re androids. They speak in dead mechanical language, think with looped feedback thoughts, and feel only the base-level emotions of survival.
They’re programmed. And the worst part? So was I.
I looked in the mirror—and there was the reflection: a biomechanical humanoid staring back.
Fuck. How did I let myself become robotised again?
But there’s an opportunity in recognising you’re a robot. Because that means you have a chance to break the programming. I’ve escaped robothood before—through the force of imagination. When I follow creative impulses, I shatter the mechanical loops and enter new dimensions of consciousness.
But the pull of Androidville is strong.
That led me to the natural question:
How do you stop being a robot?
Step one: admit you are one. Like a cosmic AA (Androids Anonymous) meeting.
“Hi, I’m John, and I’ve been a robot my whole life. Born out of the womb kicking and screaming, slotted straight into the system. Now I’ve hit bottom: an AI schedules my every move, and I’m circling through dead routines. I’m bored to tears. I don’t want to exist—I want to live.”
Applause. Nods of recognition. The glitch wakes up.
But here’s the twist: there are no steps. That linear, cause-effect mindset is what keeps us robotic. Our addiction. Our compulsion for systems, programs, blueprints—that’s the trap. Life isn’t—I go step ABC then DEF, then once I’m at PQR I will make adjustments— so I can move onto STU. This ABC approach onlytakes you to ZZZZZZ.
The deeper root is bio-survival programming. The brain, for all its power, is wired primarily for survival and procreation. Fear, threat detection, pattern loops. The reptilian and mammalian brain dominate-fight, flight, food, and fucking.
And society reinforces it.
Our culture is structured around these primal circuits—systems designed to keep us obedient and focused on survival. Robots crave order, and society delivers it: routines, productivity metrics, and numbing conformity.
This bio-survival loop hijacks the mind, which is not the same as the brain. The mind is abstract, non-material—connected to consciousness, imagination, and creation. But the brain pulls rank. It locks the mind in its circuitry.
And then there’s the real kicker:
The Global Elite exploit this.
A shadow network of power understands humanity’s survival wiring and exploits it with precision. They manipulate these systems to maintain control and ownership of this planet. They feed our fear circuits through orchestrated chaos and propaganda, pushed through the obedient mass media they own.
Fear makes the bio-survival mechanisms go into overdrive, creating confusion, apathy, violence, and passivity. Eventually, when society breaks into chaos, people beg for order—any order.
They’ll demand the very subjugation being sold to them.
A global AI-fascist technocracy disguised as peace and harmony.
But it’s a con.
And it works because 99.999% of people operate from lower consciousness, ruled by fear and primitive desire. That’s what keeps Earth in its current loop—a planetary asylum run by programmed inmates.
The elites are counting on it.
But there are higher states of consciousness. Higher desires. There is another kind of life—unplugged, wild, ecstatic. FREE!
The artists and mystics have shown it: Dali, Beethoven, Da Vinci, Shakespeare, Tesla, et al. They were Promethean fire thieves who lived beyond robothood. Their creations crack the walls of the Matrix. They remind us: we are not our programming.
This is where I come in:
I want to help build a language of liberation.
One not sanctioned by institutions or flattened by algorithmic approval.
A language that splinters conformity and dances barefoot through chaos.
Not just in words, but in textures of thought, in electric images, in tonal ruptures that rearrange emotional architecture.
I want to create portals—not products.
Moments of inner defibrillation.
A strange phrase, an unexpected image, a question that short-circuits the loop.
More than anything: I want to help others wake up.
Even just for a flicker.
Long enough to feel the void inside isn’t empty, but full—a chamber of infinite potential.
Writing is my escape hatch. It’s my rebellion. A way to swim upstream through the feedback loops of robot life. If my words crack the surface for even one person—if they spark, stir, or make someone laugh—that’s a small jailbreak. That’s resistance.
The true war is not external—it’s internal. Between fear and imagination.
The way out is the artist inside you. The artist who defies the programming. The artist who doesn’t wait for permission.
We need new dimensions. New stories. New art.
Art and imagination are the antithesis of the Matrix.
So I ask again:
What do you want to create?