"When lies were digitized, they became eternal truths."
Man is myth. Man was myth. When man became digitized, Man was/is no more.
...
Schwarzwald and I sat there in the lobby, stumbling over the fact that the Nemo Zilcho we met was a Nobody. Just a projected Avatar of a dead man. A Program attempting to extract information from us.
Maybe my eyes deceived me, but after Zilcho glitched out, I swear I glimpsed what looked like the face of a mechanical worm...
All those years ago, and only now did I realize...
"It's so over!" I exclaimed, beginning to panic.
"Hold steadfast friend! You're almost there! Tomorrow I will make my exit from WormWorld! I will see you on the other side?" Schwarzwald asked.
"I will finish it!" I replied while clenching my fist, trying to sound cool and in control.
There was still much to talk about, but just as luck would have it, Johnny Worm (the coolest dude in subsection 173) entered the lobby.
"Hey! The 2 lugheads! What's happening my main men?" Johnny Worm coolly said.
Schwarzwald and I no longer had privacy.
Was he really breaking out tomorrow?
Was this it?
Was it show time?
"Johnny Worm you old son of a bitch!" Schwarzwald said endearingly.
I could never tell with Johnny Worm, but to me it seemed that he wore both a mask of horror and despair.
"You make a move on Liselotte yet? You old dog!" Johnny Worm jibed, as he elbowed me in the ribs.
"She's been hit with a 3.83... Even if I wanted to, there would be too much danger. I haven't seen her in over a week, but I doubt she has been sent to the Pits..." I stumbled my words.
"Yeah! Women sure do have it easier!" Johnny Worm sexistly said.
"Amen to that!" I automatically replied to fill the silence.
"Soft and cuddly on the inside! But you never get to be with one!" Johnny Worm laughed.
Schwarzwald raised an eyebrow. Or so I imagined. I could never tell with his face covered in bandages.
"What about Ai?" I asked.
Johnny Worm laughed again "She's out of the picture."
Johnny Worm went through them faster than disposable handkerchiefs. He was what everyone aspired to be. A real lad, a proper bloke. A charismatic Russel Brand type. He even had his own VLOG series that the masses consumed. I couldn't believe we knew someone so famous. Another of the System's tricks.
...
We drank synthetic Alcohol and partied like it was our last night.
Any Sesh with Johnny Worm was a proper Sesh. Even if the alcohol was fake.
"Johnny Worm! What a guy!" I said to Johnny Worm as I shook his hand as he was about to leave.
Johnny Worm pointed at Schwarzwald "Look after your health!" he said as he left.
Schwarzwald gave me a stone cold look. I felt like I was about to receive a stunner.
"You take the road, I'll take the skies. Don't believe your lying eyes!" Schwarzwald told me before leaving.
...
After Online Activities were over, it was time for Late Night Activities... that dreaded time of day... LNA... an overstimulated brain, and the after effects of the withdrawal. It was a digital exhaustion of physical chemicals. Digital castration.
...
It was another day.
The Eternal HR Woman moved me about.
"Unit 21347! It is time to visit the History Museum..." the Eternal HR Woman commanded.
It wasn't my turn to go to the History Museum, but I didn't protest. I couldn't. Freedom of speech, but not freedom from consequences of my speech... that ever lingering threat which meant you were not free to speak.
...
When I left my house I saw Liselotte returning to her abode. She dared not look at me. Her head hung low. I could only imagine... the smell.
After seeing Liselotte, I bumped into the homeless White child. I tried to ignore her. But as I stepped left, she stepped right, blocking me, and so forth as we got caught up in a dance.
I stopped stepping left and right.
The homeless girl asked "What is up there?" as she pointed upwards.
I looked up seeing nothing but blue sky.
I quickly stepped left and made my way down the digitized street.
...
I entered the History Museum ready to be educated.
An old poster about Trans awareness was still at the entrance.
It depicted a group of women and men, but one of the men was wearing a dress. The poster claimed that you couldn't tell who the tranny was. It was early propaganda designed to erase your common sense making abilities. Without the use of common sense, people would believe anything. And if the information was presented to them in digitized media, then it was true. The poster, although physical in nature, was produced by digital means. Therefore it was real in their minds. It even had a recognizable government and corporate logo on it.
Trans people didn't exist anymore. They were the biodegradable vanguard tasked with disrupting and undermining indigenous culture in favour of GloboHomo Paedo Cosmopolitan ideology. Once they had served their purpose, they were no longer needed. The Digitized System disposed of the 'useful idiots' and replaced them with the NuHumans or incorporated them into the MAPs.
Other than this lingering poster, there was no information that the trannies ever really existed as a thing. The NuHumans would have no idea what a poster about a man in a dress meant.
The downward spiral of falling into that which is curated and propagated of which had came before. It was all cyclical.
I walked through the History Museum ignoring the fakeness. I would always try and run through a monologue of what actually happened as I made my way past the exhibits. I had to remember. I had to know the truth.
Our entire civilization post World War 2 was a complete fabrication.
Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell was published during the times of its subject matter back in 1949.
It would be another 41 years until my birth. 41 years was both a short time and a long time. An entire generation of Boomers grew up in the post World War 2 paradigm knowing nothing but Sweet Comfy Lies.
Every generation other than my grandparents had been bathed in the Boomer Truth Regime from birth. My Grandparents generation had fought in the war. With them gone there was no more connection to the times from before the Boomer Truth Regime.
I walked through the horrors of the twentieth century exhibits.
The Death of God resulted in an atheist patchwork of new mythos.
Hitler being the Devil, and Nazis as the ultimate source of evil.
Everything had to revolve around this mythos.
All there was and could ever be was this mythos.
It was key to control.
If you were to take a step away from GloboHomo then you were seen by the System as Goose Stepping towards the Nazis, and the Nazis were the ultimate source of Evil, and therefore you were a Bad Person.
Conflation, equivocation, it didn't mater.
Your geography and time period, completely irrelevant.
If you took one step outside of the Boomer Truth Regime (which eventually birthed GloboHomo) you were somehow a mid-century German.
"Never again!" the Boomer Truth Regime screamed.
The great evil that was to never be repeated.
Genocide. The original sin.
The Proto-Network System would do anything to make sure you didn't step away.
And of course we couldn't actually say "No" to GloboHomo.
The option was not there.
I walked through the early twenty-first century exhibits. We were presented as being 'so good' for giving up our homelands and our standards of living, which came from our genetically selected culture.
We were not allowed to say that we did not want our culture, our people, and our places genocided. We did not want this systemic destruction committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, our nation, our ethnos, our culture, and our religion. We were not GloboHomo and we did not want to be assimilated into 3rd world conditions.
Assimilated and genocided in the name of "Never Again!"
What a joke!
If you denied people the right to your Homeland you would be stepping away from Global Homogenized Gay Nigger Communism. You couldn't deny foreigners your Homeland. It was irrelevant that foreign housing ownership only increased, whereas Native ownership decreased with concurrent mass waves of homelessness of the indigenous population.
Mass Immigration; salt sold to the tongue under a mountain of sugar. Low wages and High house prices. If you had looked at the stats back then (when we were allowed to), we were literally funding the construction of new houses for the sake of new foreign stock. Subsidizing their housing with sacrifices of our own people to the streets. All in the name of "Never Again!"
We were just as biodegradable back then.
We were never told that our places would disappear, and be replaced by foreign versions. We were never told our cultures would die.
The warnings didn't appear on the TV, and therefore our fears and the reality of those fears didn't exist.
We were Genocided, and we did nothing.
Ireland was Negrified.
The people replaced.
The culture flattened.
All for the sake of the GloboHomo Gods.
I couldn't believe it all those decades ago when I first saw them in Belfast getting down on their knees for some African American who OD'ed in America. I thought it was a joke; just something to laugh at and ignore.
"Ha ha ha! Mental illnesses are gaining traction! Ha ha ha!" I laughed, unknowing of the imminent slow motion collapse.
Belfast was a place where Catholics and Protestants fought it out. A place where people get knee capped. A place to test your mettle like Streets of Rage IRL. But I guess it only took so many generations for the youth to become just like clay ready to be moulded into GloboHomo's image. By the time the Mutt Cutt entered mainstream fashion, I knew it was already too late.
I remembered London as a child. It was an English City, and then within a decade it was not.
Many places I liked to visit in Europe, they slowly one by one began to disappear. Paris died very early. It was once a place of beauty, now a crime ridden African Bazaar.
I guess they flooded all the capitals first. Tyrants always surrounded themselves with foreigners to shield themselves from their people.
These Tyrants were the end result of the Boomer Truth Regime and its non-binary son GloboHomo. They were the vilest anti-humans to ever exist.
Within no time they had flooded every place in Europe with a hostile population of Africans and Middle Easterners.
They drained the resources.
And then we bottomed out.
I left the early mid century Ireland section of the History Museum.
And now here we were.
WormWorld.
Or was it always WormWorld?
I had thought WormWorld was birthed of GloboHomo, but the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that WormWorld preceded the Boomer Truth Regime. WormWorld was ancient. It was connected to these things, yet at the same time not. Completely distant and yet so close. Tangible and intangible simultaneously. It was a force that seeks to devour and create. A self-organizing dynamical system just waiting to be.
Here it was... The Worm section of the History Museum.
The Worms! I didn't want to think about it.
This was the only part of the museum which was all true. Truth is often the best propaganda....
I made my way through, ignoring the exhibits. The Worms! Coming out of every orifice!
Must of been 2029. Year of the Worm... That's when it all changed.
The release of a new food vaccine... and the truth that emerged...
I couldn't bear to go over what had transpired. The Worms! How they came out of people's throats, and other places... I had to... I had to escape that nightmare. We all did. My head began to spin.
I escaped the year of the Worm.
...
Electricity was the digitization of energy. Internet was the digitization of information. Blockchain was the digitization of value. A.I. was the digitization of thought and expertise.
As the infrastructure and supply chains decayed.
We had prayed.
And it delivered us unto digital Salvation. An original digital truth.
And now... all this technology, watching us, keeping us honest.
Digitized Truths.
The Digitized Truths saved us from our nightmares. The images of the Worms were wiped from our memory. We were now catered to.
It wasn't long before the generalized A.I. had idealized itself into every facet of our being. The desire of comfort over sacrifice was our downfall. Previous generations would have smited the ruling criminals long before this point. And here we were way beyond any crossing of the line. Complacent and comfortable.
Living Underneath an A.I. focused on maximizing efficiency of units of economic work.
I looked at the old food pyramid map.
The anti-depressants on it always reminded me of something.
"11/09/39... .. Night of the Long SSRIs..." I muttered to remind myself that it really did happen.
I could never shake the guilt of what I felt. If only I had believed in the Creampie Nationalist Activism (CNA) movement.
The eleventh of September... 2039. So many died...
They didn't teach that here at the History Museum.
Soon it would be forgotten.
And if it was forgotten, then was it even real to begin with?
...
Chapter 1 No Money, No Job, No Life
Chapter 2 Schwarzwald
Chapter 3 Apocalyptic Stare
Chapter 4 Digital Marionettes
Chapter 5 Biodegradable Citizen