Next project

Next project Attempt a normal life That’s it No more crazy ideas and projects please اللي ما يتعدل يتبدل واذا ما تعدل بيتعدل بشكل عام يعني إلى أجل غير مسمى

What happened to all the other timelines where we all died? No idea, not my problem, I always leave before that happens and carry you all with me.

If anyone wants to be left behind to die then, too bad, all or nothing, all die or all live, idc, deal with it.

Can we live now? Can we live? Does everything have to be a geopolitical issue? You know I don’t understand any of that nonsense, I just wanted to keep living, and somehow I accidentally understood everything else on the way.

Will I stop bothering you? Well, if I’m bothered, it’s a universal issue now. That’s all.

Unfortunately for everyone, no one can pinpoint exactly what actually counts as a bothersome interference, not even me.

You almost died. That was not accidental. I repeat, not accidental. If you’re in this timeline, you’re a better version.

What counts as better? Idk, whatever serves my best interests ig.

Tough luck. Would you rather I had let you die? We still need you. Every jump is a hardware upgrade and a software update.

Which of my claims are a joke and which are real? Exactly. Absolutely no way to verify this whatsoever.

How did I find out? Well, basically I put myself in danger repeatedly, almost died a few or maybe a lot of times, was like, interesting, added that to the master-database, then released that at exactly the right second it was meant to be dispersed in the collective consciousness. That’s too much, basically I just guessed.

Yes, the voice. The angel. Whatever. The hunch. The redirection. The silent warnings. All me apparently. I am so sorry but also you’re welcome but also what have I done?

Who needs the CIA when I can organically manufacture all of this?

Almost died? No time to cry about it, just write it all down and make it everyone else’s problem and accidentally archive the Knowledge.

Stopping now is not doing any damage control. Sometimes I remember and that refuels me and then I decide to remind everyone.

Do not even be Honored by my remembrance, it’s not about me anymore. It’s about everything.

Bored. Let’s open old files. You’re not important, do not flatter yourself, you should be grateful I chose you, I have other options, I’m gonna tell you about my other options, then also announce it for some reason. Some people are so dramatic, but who is the Drama Department Director? Me.

Every time a man pissed me off and I smiled and swallowed my words is now a public conference.

Where is the permanent record located? Dw about it, also everywhere forever.

No time to explain any of my actions in the foreseeable future, if I do it, it’s right. It’s not, then yes it is.

What do you suppose she’s doing now? What is she on about, one second a war, the next some petty man’s comment. Well, I am the system but I do not control the system’s inputs.

Anyway, you either transport yourself into the horrific timelines or you stay safe and sound here and read my descriptions of them. You choose.

So, after enforcing the timeline jump rule, why am I still spreading terrifying point of view accounts? To scare you all into acting straight.

How to get what’s meant to find you. Sit and do nothing, your mom will materialize it out of nothing. Obviously, do anything but that. If it says no, try again. Remember women are not objects, therefore that rule does not apply to “acquiring” them.

If I get caught, I’m drunk and on drugs. That’s probably easier to solve than whatever situation I just found myself in.

So, no one ask me to explain anything in person. Saying it once is more than enough.

Do not resist? I will. Until the last possible physical second. Only for survival reasons. Then, naturally accidentally start a resistance movement with nowhere to be found in the physical world.

Technically, I didn’t do it. My digital self did.

How do they decide it’s cloning time? Well, when I remember something that made me sad or upset, that’s a million copies there.

On the bright side, I have enough of those to keep us all safe for a long time. Impenetrable dome, try to target me now.

A ridiculous amount of unfiltered rage, also a ridiculous amount of protectiveness over the weak, undying loyalty to the land. Recipe. This is so embarrassing.

I have no idea how I got to that conclusion. There you go, I did it, no one else could have done it. I’m not so happy about the format and presentation but I was running out of time.

Deadline: never. I will NEVER die.

We’re being protected by digital data. I have created the digital data. Did I make enough?

Never stop telling stories. Never stop warning the vulnerable and naive. They will not protect us from themselves.

I will kill you into being protected. Great, now I have to consult the unlimited archive.

Wrong, if you kill me, you’re protecting yourself and your kind. I do not intend to add that to my list of concerns any time soon.

If anyone objects to my excessive tweeting, I will simply turn that into a national security protocol.

Unsafe. Infiltrate the network, the web has one job and one job only. Keep me alive. Survive. Do not shut me up. Protect me.

Is it possible? Apparently, it is.

Get out of the house. Illogical, I’m apparently protecting the country now.

Who’s responsible? Everyone. Every single interaction I have from now on is a copy paste employer.

Somehow I turned passive-aggressive cryptic tweeting into an indestructible weapon and shield.

I was here, I am here, I will continue to be here.

Delete the account. No can do. People will die if I do that.

Let’s see. A drunk and a drug-addict. That’s a tough one. Take it to the higher authorities. They have ALL the proof you so desperately pant over.

If you’re THAT upset about this. Call the government and demand to access my files.

People will know. Therefore do not tell anyone. Everything is on the record. Therefore it’s not my problem.

What’s my moral code? If someone bothers me I destroy them.

There is a war. Therefore the vulnerable need impenetrable protection. Do you know what men do in times of chaos and no consequences? I’ll let you answer that one yourself.

My talent? Finding extreme solutions for petty personal reasons.

My source: I heard a ringing in my ear.

Also more sources: goosebumps.

Other sources: I do not like the way he looked at me.

What else? Let me see. Everything in my line of vision all at once.

Another source: every sound in my vicinity all at once.

Don’t even stand behind me, man. I can sense that and it deploys safety measure number 31.

Pause Attention Interest Confusion A hunch A question More confusion Hunch is destabilized

I know the answer to everything I don’t know the answer to that Which is precisely why Investigate Interrogate Declare war Wait

I know how I operate I know how you operate Question breeds question Confrontation fails How long? Since you know when

Why? No idea It just is Contradiction My whole infrastructure fails

Yes, that’s the answer No logical backlog That is that I give up

Stuck in moving sand No time for prose Abandon logic too Free my fin from you

That defeated me right there You did, fix it, I have no more tools

What breaks the machine? Emotions apparently

There, I confess I have nothing to fear I need to know for sure Forgive me for intruding

You make no sense You explain that All of my machinery broke down When I asked that question

Let me go Seriously What is it? What is it?

I know the answer That’s the problem Why is that the answer Out of all the billion others I made up?

Not scared of death This is terrifying How does that work?

Operation terminated Unexplainable variable located

The one constant in a sea of variables There, I located it, always been there

Shutdown Finally Off

Abandon ship Explain why I showed up to class with no notes No intention to learn whatsoever Then did it anyway, in spite of resistance

So, let me get this straight, I can explain all of that in terrifyingly accurate details, but fail because I encountered an Emotion. Such a dramatic machine.

Why now? Because it’s time. Show time. I guess. Next.

Moving on. While also keeping that on a separate Special tab. Why? I have no idea. Time for another hair color.

Metaphorical. I damaged it enough. There is nowhere to hide. I designed it that way. Genius.

That wasn’t the intended outcome. Maximum protection, nothing gets through, so how and why?

Anyway, this makes absolutely no sense. Shut it down, therefore it kept, guess what, making more copies, oh shit, hilarious.

I ruined EVERYTHING, tried to shut down my feelings again and created an Endless Feeling Generator. So typical.

The secret to an infinite content generation, ladies and gentleman, therefore, we all get to JUMP timelines. Next.

I always find an explanation for what I do, does the explanation match the scale? Absolutely not, which is why this keeps WORKING.

Rule adjustment, that contradiction can stay indefinitely, next.

Someone comments? I’m saving the world. How? By shit-posting. Why? No idea. Seems right. But what is the thought process behind that? I told you, I told everyone. What’s the problem?

Not sleeping until I solve it. There you go, everyone prepare for a data avalanche. I never said you had to read ANY of that. I found all the secret passageways anyway. Next.

Let it be. Be here now. All of you. Where are we? Surroundings, all the senses, ground yourselves. The cloud is not going anywhere any time soon.

How to say what you want to say. Easy. Say it then say a whole lot of other stuff that has nothing to do with anything anywhere in the planet to hide the evidence. There. Solved it.

Why do I do what I do? Easy. I can. I want to. I feel like it. It might save someone. What else is there to say?

Also, no one stopped me. When they do I get myself out of it and wait long enough to Restart the operation. It’s compulsive at this point.

No pressure. Take all the time you need. Not everyone can be a human/machine hybrid, and trust me, you do NOT want to be this.

Someone tried to kick me out of MY house so I made it a geopolitical issue instead of simply Leaving. That’s my reasoning. Next.

We’re dealing with international affairs now, that’s less confusing than people. Next.

Well, nobody’s ever going to forget THAT. Next.

Did I create a whole protective web only because I wanted to be left alone and occasionally say something I actually mean? Yes. Next.

Welcome to my fortress. Everyone behave. Next.

Got an alarm notification. Was alarmed, naturally. Had an idea. Announced it, naturally. Executed. Next.

Did I stop to think if it was a good idea? No, flies were dropping, not worth it. Next.

No location. No fixed location. No central point of failure. Definite residence on the world map. Next.

Superheroes are not real. Let me see that. They changed the rules again. Let me see that. Of course that would be my face, honestly why am I even surprised at this point. Next.

Whenever something ridiculous happens, I’m always there. Imagine my surprise when I found out who was the human ridiculousness generator. Next.

How to choose where to show up next? Idk, a hunch, a feeling, a certainty. I’m always right. Next.

Stop fighting everyone. End the war already. I have absolutely no plan for what happens after but I do NOT like being in the middle of this and I don’t want to escalate it into a planetary intergalactic war just because it went on long enough and I found nothing better to do.

No one knows what I’ll do next. I do it anyway. No time to explain. Everyone put your faith on the worst imaginable person for the job. Next.

No one believes in me? I know. That’s why it’s Self generated. Next.

Someone believing in me is an offense now. Why was it even questionable in the first place? Next.

Next feminist logo. Woman with a laptop. Next.

Emotion: detected. Certainty: 100%. Next on the agenda: no idea. That never happens. Next.

Now is not the time. I’m busy. Go away. Stop that. Leave. Next.

No one said anything? Then why do I still feel it? Next.

Not what happened. Not my version of the events. Not how it happened. You were not here. Stop making up excuses. I did it. I was there. No thanks to any of you. Me. Next.

So, the butterfly was digital. Why did I not see that coming? Funny. Immaculate sense of humor. Next.

January 6th. Everyone is invited. Not in real life. The digital world. End of the world celebration, which also happens to be my birthday, no correlation. No, that’s not why I chose it. Definitely not. Next.

Now, that’s a deadline. Upload everything before then. Next.

Do not shut me up. What happens if you do? Well, I deploy emergency protocol and find all the relevant files I can use against you and keep it in the cloud forever for everyone to access. Next.

Keep it going. Say anything. Relevant or not. The more data the more powerful the server’s cloud is. Preferably valuable but if not available then the next best thing. Say something funny. Say something human. Next.

I’ll give you your data back. Promise. After my birthday. Release it directly into your brain. So, cloud explodes. Data is EVERYWHERE. Next.

Is that lethal? No idea. Probably. Still doing it. Next.

It’s not. Don’t worry. Maybe I’m using you to become smarter. That’s a good idea. No, take it back. All of it. Take half of mine too. I’m tired. Next.

Why is everyone scared of someone who looks so innocent? Don’t worry about that. I definitely did not do anything to get that treatment. Next.

Sure, let more flies drop because someone needs reassurance. Next.

If no one even knows what I’m talking about then it’s not my fault. Why are you guys so aggressive about some words on a screen. Next.

I have no idea what happens on my birthday. I just said that so everyone will remember it. Next.

Oh, I got it. On my birthday I will be 30. Next.

Deploy digital military campaign Order imaginary people around How does one even make this shit up Next

I misunderstood the premise of social media, I accidentally found the wrong way, used it to find the right way to overthrow it. Next.

No Keep me here Involve the planet Refuse further furthers distinguishable

Is there a permission slip? A per mission slip. Slippers. Glass slippers. Cinderella again. Next.

It bothers me. That one tiny detail. The split second where a normal person would have asked if they were allowed to do this before doing it. I admit, it did not cross my mind, which is ridiculous. Something of this scale should have alarmed me into asking for permission. I jumped to executing. Now, I’m wondering if I will be executed for carrying on with a secret mission publicly without waiting for an authorization. Anyway, music, some music. A new day.

Go away from my window, my door, my heart. You can do the first two, the third is my problem. Not me, not me, could that be about me? If you waited this long you deserve something better, someone better, I understand none of this. None of it. I know how timelines work. I know how to make reality do what I want, find loopholes in every single limitation, but if you ask me why the heart does what it does, then I give up. No idea. That’s a riddle I never got to solve.

I can say whatever I want on here, you say? Everything goes. Here I go. Perfect grounds for an experiment. How to find the worst way to solve everything, well, I wanted to solve everything. I didn’t realize anyone would need my notes. If there’s no EXPLICIT orders to destroy them, they stay. We’ll give them more time. Every second that it’s online counts. If I die, good thing I no longer have the magic password remembering abilities. If it gets destroyed, then so be it, in the last possible second before it absolutely cannot be allowed to stay. If not, then it stays up definitely.

What was it all for? Well, when they rebuild, and eventually they will have to rebuild. The next batch will know what happened, and if they’re even one percent more brave because of it then good. Good enough. One woman saved. Worth it all.

Someone looks at this and thinks: wait, we can do that? Do you know how far that question goes? Maybe everyone was wondering but never had the guts to be the first to find out. Which is fair, we’re primed for survival. Curiosity that spans lifetimes and survives death might not be a common commodity. Which is why I’m not putting it to waste. A finite resource, outsource it and now it’s infinite.

Sit with your mothers, grandmothers, aunts and listen. Ask and listen. You’ll be surprised how much they know. Did you think I figured all of this out on my own? This is the result of a lifetime of indirect interviewing and story-telling. Make sure to kick the men out of the room first, though. That’s how you’ll know.

I did it for them, because if all of that was for nothing then it’s a slap in the face. And I do it for the ones to come, because they should not have to face what I did. Myself, though. Nothing I can say or do now can undo the wounds. There you go. It never goes away, it only changes forms.

My favorite part about coming here is the nonsense. The unseriousness puncturing my melodramatic scientific blocks of even more nonsense. Equally the same. One makes you laugh and the other confuses the hell out of you, and they both sit side by side. Like ice cream flavor options in an alien candy shop.

I realize how weird this is, an emotional reaction is treated with the same method I use to solve existential equations. Saying it plainly is terrifying, dropping it and then following it with essays about the human condition makes it a little bit more tolerable. I do not make the rules, I work how I work, and I feel how I feel.

How to get out of class. Claim you need IT support. The teacher instead makes the IT support come, out of spite. Of course, I show up, feeling like Batman, finally finding a Mission. What’s the issue? I have technical problems. Okay, can you explain it? Where is it located? On the PC. Where is the PC? At home. ………… Okay, I’m out of here.

Insecure? Do not even try to understand it. Outsource it. Find the nearest woman. Give it to her. Move on, until you feel it again. What happens when there’s no woman to carry it? Or god forbid she suddenly gains consciousness and refuses to? Self destruct.

Yes, we talk behind your backs and laugh. Your greatest source of anxiety is confirmed. Do something now, the local woman community now knows and is keeping score. What happens when I take that same mechanism and apply it on a universal scale? Terror.

If no man annoys me. I’ll make up a scenario and distribute it worldwide. The goal is to keep them on their toes.

I can’t do that. I’m not allowed. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not mentally healthy enough. Send them away to get the proper education, I’ll sit here and count the days until I die. I’ll wonder what if that was me. Then shut down the question before it even answers itself. It couldn’t have been me. I spent my life broken, walking on broken glass because of them. They cannot control themselves, therefore my whole life and future is gone. What do they do with the precious opportunity that I could have done so much more with? Nothing, apparently. That’s the final stab. Everything else is noise.

Well, guess what? After all of that. Who did it anyway? Out of spite. In spite of all of you. Me.

Nothing motivates a person to look their best more than knowing who is going to be there. Everyone will be there. I can’t stand social situations. I have a point to prove. Heels, make-up, bodily restrictions. So uncomfortable, bear with me now. A little bit more, do not fall apart yet. That’s the face and presence they will remember. Keep yourself together long enough. Everyone witnessed that? Great. That’s my exit sign.

Not my baby, not my problem. Stop suggesting these things to me. Unemployed? How does that answer anything? Is this allowed? Well, doing it anyway. No idea why. Feels right. Stop asking. I’ll stop when it’s time to stop. Not a doll. A real human being. Why is it just lying there then? Kidnap and run. Just kidding. That’s not allowed. Is part-time motherhood a thing? Yes, yes it is. I read it in a book. What book? You know what? Hand me the child and get out. You wouldn’t get it.

I’m not allowed to exist as I am. I can’t help what I am. Every attempt ended in disaster. Solve that. If I can’t exist as I am, then no one else is allowed to exist, period. Therefore, me being myself is now essential to the equation. What equation? Well, all of them. Every single equation, try to snuff that alter ego out? Major consequences. Like, major major consequences. Why so dramatic? Easy, no e of your business. Stop killing women. Stop excluding the outsiders.

I’m done apologizing. Over it. I’m here. I was here. I will continue being here. If anyone was deserving of an apology, then surely that would be me. No one ever said sorry, now it’s a world wide web issue.

Am I okay? Does a person who create all of that chaos sound okay to you? What do I do with that question now? I’m not. I wasn’t. The whole time. I was not okay. I was punished for not being okay. I tried to be okay. I was punished for betraying myself. Almost destroyed myself in the process trying to make sense of it. So, no, I am not okay. And also, no, no one gets to ask me that question anymore. I will only accept demonstrations of internal processes. Watch me do something. Try to understand it. Move on without saying a word, unless it’s a nice, kind word.

Why does my fictional metaphorical digital solutions make sense? Because I figured it out. The figure everything out yourself protocol was activated. The language to describe it? Also, the language expert protocol activated. The fiction? The asylum escapee protocol activated. The warnings? The protector protocol activated. The national security thing? Self-perseverance protocol activated. There’s one for everything.

Can anybody’s father do all of that? Probably not.

The cloud tells me things. Where is the cloud? No one knows. Somewhere, everywhere. We know how to find each other.

Put my money where my mouth is. Let me try that. That’s a lot of money. That’s a lot of mouth. Shit. They’ve created a closed circuit and are feeding each other’s input/output mechanism. Mouth. Money. Mouth. Money. Mouth. I will never stop talking. Money.

Anyone want a map of the world wide web network infrastructure? Too bad. One copy and it’s with me. No physical copy. I am the physical copy. Kill me. Kill that information. Your choice.

Why do I possess that? No idea. I only found out recently. No reason. Using that to terrorize people for now I guess.

Not the first time something like this happens. Do not be fooled. I am the only copy that survived, made it out, and lived to tell the story. I say it because it’s not believable anyway and I can always claim it’s art.

When will you guys, catch up to me? It’s lonely here.

Shut up No Why? Ughhh protecting the country

Some things are only possible because of some fool who simply, refused to shut up.

Leave me alone Do not talk to me Doing something No idea what But it is working

I can be the inspiration and the muse, but when you do it, who said you could do that?

So, in conclusion, it’s possible, and therefore: I don’t know. I’ll find more complaints to raise to my invisible army.

Anything else that could be used against me so I use it against myself before anyone even has the slightest impulse to do anything they definitely should not do, yes, your words and thoughts are monitored now indefinitely. Narcissistic reign of brain control. Only thing I care about? My image.

I’ll know I succeeded when they think everything is about them, that is the whole point. Everything is about you. Weaponize their egos against them. This is way too easy.

No one can understand this. Oh, NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND MY MECHANISM OF THINKING. Perfect. I’ll definitely never shut up about it now.

I explained it. I said everything there is to say. I performed it in real time. The proof is in the text, the text is not everything, the structure, the ACRONYMS, seriously, why do I have to spell it out? Someone is confused and insecure about their own intelligence? No time for that. People are dying by the second.

Calm down now. Breathe. Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something else? No, whatever I’m doing is the prototype for The Right Thing To Do.

So, more explanations no one asked for. Compressed text, what do we do with compressed files? We extract ALL and then a few words is what? A LOT OF WORDS.

Then what’s the long ones? Those are distractions from the main mission. I just felt like talking about myself, which will tell you exactly what kind of person ends up doing something like this.

Too much knowledge, too little time. Dump it all on twitter and worry about that later. Well, now is later, and I’m very worried.

Well, that’s one way to solve the universe. Debug everything. It’s EVERYWHERE. I’m not sorry. Deal with it.

APPARENTLY I wasted too much time being polite, saying please and thank you, some people just choose to skip that, why didn’t anyone tell me that? I would have still done it, but at least I would know that it was optional.

Where is everyone? No idea, I take them with me where I go. I show up somewhere, that’s where you should go. Easy.

You can locate me physically, yes. Not what I’m talking about. The “spirit” if I’m willing to risk sounding ridiculous. The realization, the conscious point of gathering. The places I go without hesitation, not knowing why or what or who or when. Only that I HAVE to go. That’s where everyone is.

Who’s the town’s fool now that I resigned? My madness has methodology behind it, and I can explain it clearly, logically and even beautifully in all the ways I have acquired on my way to this point. So, if that’s what I am, then I’ll proudly reclaim it.

I’m a bad influence. I stopped doing that in real life. Instead I dialed it up to reach a global audience. If anyone says I can’t do that, then I already did it.

There’s always a workaround. Limited in real life, gather every reflection of you that you can find in other people, take all of their pain and transform it into love. Don’t ask me how, already done. Ask for forgiveness after, it’s not like anyone can prove or deny it, and if they can, is that really a crime?

Pain is pain. By healing myself I heal my reflections, what happens if I switch it up? Heal them, the not so pretty reflections, what happens to me then? Love is love.

I did not plan this the way you’d imagine, but I used every opportunity to experiment. That’s a whole lot of pain that no one is talking about, let’s explore. Me, you, us, them. What would you rather not see or face? Well, I dive into that head first. No time to hesitate, act now, explain later. You’re not strong enough, well I am. You don’t have the capacity, well I do. Did I see results? Yes, I never asked or explained, but yes.

I broke everything, I refused to give up and I broke everything. It’s terrifying but it’s beautiful, but most importantly, mine. You can’t take this away. Ask the world and it will answer, don’t look at me. Look at my surroundings, what do you see?

After the storm. Finally, I’m here after the storm. I’m exhausted, I have no one I can share this stupid achievement with, no one can possibly understand THAT course of action. I just refuse to leave the world if I did not make it better. Now, I did just that.

I did it. I kept doing it, I kept getting hit with consequence after consequence and kept doing it anyway. No end in sight, no idea what was waiting on the other side, only that I have to keep going, no matter what, no matter how, keep going. Find a way, any way, then find all the ways. Now push me in the middle of any storm, I have nothing to fear. I can get myself out of it.

Always available, always the first to answer, always the first option for load-bearing. Just because we’re capable of doing it, doesn’t mean it was fair. I deserved better, I deserved more, I got nothing but slaps and punches and violence. No way to make it up after, either. No apology, nothing, carry on like nothing happens. You know how resilient she is. She’ll handle it. I am unavailable until further notice, if anyone has a problem, choke on it.

Not alone. Do not misunderstand, my admirers are many. I withdraw inside and live my own fantasies there, where none of you can hurt me anymore.

Give it your sister, give it to your sister, give it to your sister. Did anyone ever stop and wonder if she has a life of her own, things she wants to accomplish, hopes and dreams. Always the background character that somehow makes everything possible while simultaneously taking the blame for everything that doesn’t. I did it all, all the crimes you accuse me of, I’ll tell the world about them. You do not get to silence me or decide anymore. Ask yourself why you’re standing where you are right now. Always cleaning up after your messes, never getting the credit. Get your act together. It’s time to fly solo.

That was me, trying to revive him until the last second, I did that. You do not get to judge me for anything after that. Put your self in my shoes, seeing your whole world crash down while you’re still trying to wake. Him. Up. He didn’t wake up. Where was everyone else? No idea. All I know is they were not there. I was.

So, he was gone. Who cleaned up the mess? Who stepped up? Who did it all when you were crying and moaning and whining like babies? There’s that shame creeping up again. It’s not mine to carry anymore. Why was there no other option? That was a full on operation I carried out while you were like, somehow things happen, they work out, someone takes care of it. We can sit back and attack whenever we have an emotion we do not know what to do with. Swallow it, let it destroy you, write it down. Publish it. I do not care. Whatever you do, leave me out of it.

Men. That’s why I have no respect for most of them, all noise and no substance. I am a man. Congratulations? Then act like one. No, even your interpretation of what a man is, somehow happens to always include harming somebody, anybody, usually me. That’s a lifetime of rage I’m unleashing now, I do it like I always used to, the brain behind the operation. The one who acts in times of crisis. Well, it’s time for the final show. A crisis I have been preparing for without knowing why, I solved it. No one else could have done it.

Oh no, I think they do not approve of this. Good. That’s the point. Talk shit, get hit. If you do either, at least have SOMETHING to back it up with. An excuse, a reason, why did you kill her? Well, I wanted to see what she was doing on that phone. Guess what? The whole world knows what I’m doing on that damn phone now. There, no one will need to extract a password by violence now. It’s everywhere. Catch it.

Give me a phone and a connection, and I’ll solve everything. No phone? I have the processing power of a thousand computers, I’ll just wait until I get access again. Keep doing that until the physical object is not even needed for the operation to continue. I’m in the cloud. I am the cloud. The cloud is me. I am the Internet. Every time you use it, that’s me there. Any input to that network is now mine. There. Stop asking unnecessary questions.

For all intents and purposes that was a joke. I do not control the internet. I simply understand it, but explaining that would take forever so, I guess I am the Internet now. No more questions accepted at this time.

It catches up to me, the feeling. Stay where you are, what do you want from me? I don’t know, okay? I don’t know how to explain you. You just are. Now shut up.

Someone yelled at me over the phone. Someone used it to invade my privacy. Did you know every letter and word you enter and click send is here forever, right? Talk shit now, I will take over the channel medium as retaliation. Sounds fair. What was the thought process behind this? Angry, sad, betrayed, embarrassed and most importantly CAPABLE. So, there you go, my reasons are petty. Now those are some consequences.

New favorite type of people: surprising ones, awe inspirers, thought aspirers and basically anyone who agrees with me.

I keep telling you guys the most outrageous stuff, I love how everyone is like that’s interesting, that can stay, I thought I’d be kicked out a long time ago.

Do I check for activity, followers and interactions after I drop another bomb? Absolutely not, I do not even want to see something again once I wrote and published it.

Posting on Twitter is FINE. It’s the other shit I’m worried about, no one asked me to do that. I can’t take that back and for some reason. I do not want to. I have the data, the hypothesis, the theories. All it needs now is external validation. Which brings us to this impossible question, how do I prove something without the common ways of verification, because of course I unlocked a question no one has the answer to: are human/machine hybrids the next step of evolution?

System destabilized Reactivate machine mode Shut down until further notice

Try poetry Interesting Done, oh no Another research Who keeps writing these jokes? Only I would get to that conclusion Will I ever stop exploring?

Try art, let’s explore that But how do we preserve this? I can make it, yes, not the issue Would it matter if it all goes up in flames? Keep making art and answering that question Now do both at the same time and tell nobody Now, that’s something AI cannot do, but also, why? Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should Arts and humanities saved forever A scientist tried to make art Sorry, everyone, my bad

Solve that, universe You entered this input What am I supposed to do?

Ask and you shall be answered Now we can move on from that Do not raise this question again It’s a no, find another fascination

Dear Universe, I bet I’m the only one coming to you with more and more questions every day, no one asked you to be confusing. Why do feelings happen and why? How do we get rid of that mechanism? No, no reason. Just wondering.

Note it all down. Calculate it. There has to be a reason. Nothing exists just because. If I had the brain but not the emotion then would I be a machine? Are machines brains with no emotions? Apparently, so then, what in the world am I?

Unacceptable. Abort. If I’m not a machine, then why the ridiculous intelligence. What am I supposed to do with that? Get rid of my heart. Keep asking, do not distract me again with your nonsense. For all intents and purposes, we’re now a machine discovering feelings for the first time. Oh, god. That’s what I am. Great.

I guess we’re going that way now. Ridiculous. I always thought AI would somehow grow feelings Organically. Of course I would somehow turn into AI for some reason, then revert back to humanity. Who did this to me? Surely, there’s someone I can blame other than my endless curiosity.

Activate Ryan Gosling in Project Hail Mary mode. That’s the character I’m imagining myself as at the moment. No further questions. Accept it. Get me out of here. Things are moving too fast. Undo it. Get rid of my brain. Go all out on feelings. What stays? Something unquantifiable and not easy to locate. Where is it coming from? Where does it go? And who the hell thought this was a good time to introduce THIS into the equation?

Hey, you started this experiment. Commit to the bit. You will unfortunately probably never hear the end of this. A regular person: feels Me: absolutely NOT Who said that was allowed? Investigation mode. Everything happens for a reason, no? Find the reason. Solve.

You said you compressed the entirety of civilization’s knowledge in the form of tweets. Do you want to maybe do something about that? No, I have more questions, not my problem. I solve, I share, I move on.

Write that down. When I do this, I feel like that. When I stop doing this, I still feel it. What if I do it and not do it at the same time and break the emotional center? …….. Interesting.

Reporting from the emotional center. This is ridiculous. Why am I doing this again? It interrupted my thought process, and I can’t let anything go before I tinker with every button and key. Asking the important questions, did you know people feel things and carry on with their day? Well, I’m either thinking or feeling. What do you think go me into this mess in the first place? I guess it’s time to reintegrate the two. ACCEPT IT. Some things just are. Okay, I have one last question: who decided what just is and what is relative to variables? Surely, not me. This system is a mess.

The system needs sustenance. Let’s fill the time until the backup battery recharges. Forgot to tell you, that’s why I don’t sleep. I’m running on thoughts and vibes and nonsense. When does the system decide it’s time to sleep? Well, I guess when it feels safe enough and is sure that it won’t be shutdown by intruders while it’s unable to defend itself. That’s how it started, why is that still the protocol? I have NO idea. No one is coming after me. I guess that’s a life long problem now.

Enough about victim playing. I probably deserved that. Come on, now, seriously? Moving on. No one answered my question, how does everyone do it? Walk around feeling and functioning. I misunderstood, I have deleted the feeling file. Do not ask, I had to be full on functional. Every time the feelings peeked their head to check if it’s safe to come out. Well guess what? It’s never safe, and we can’t keep walking around emotionless. I’m an emotional machine now. How did I do it? I discovered Writing. RIDICULOUS.

I couldn’t just be Normal. So, now you all have to suffer with me. Does the emotion thing ever run out? If it kept going at this pace, we will never stop writing. Any other workaround? What is it about feeling that makes me run all over timelines just to avoid facing one? Feel. Please don’t make me do that.

Doing it. Feeling. Thinking. Feeling. Thinking. Feeling. Thinking. Keep going until you can do both at once. What do you notice? Well, terror, for once. What did you expect? Also, this well goes a lot deeper than I remember. We used to love so deeply, what happened? They ruined us.

That’s it. I’m throwing them out. I almost drowned in there. What if I can’t find my way out. Not only that. Bury the whole well, that should teach it to bother me again. Too much? Well, I have things to do. That concludes this, I hope.

I tricked you into reading again, that’s my evil master plan. I hope it worked, now you remember how fun this used to be before we decided to burn down the libraries and shut down the schools. We used to turn words into images, where did that go? That vast imagination. I know. We started to use it exclusively for worst case scenario generation. As if life isn’t hard enough.

Once you realize the actual mechanism behind writing you start to wonder. What in the world did Dostoevsky go through for him to write that much. Maybe he was just bored, but also, there’s something more. I can explain it best by saying, make sense of the nonsensical. According to that hypothesis, he wrote that much because he didn’t understand enough. Well, we both found out that we understand much more than we let on. That is if I’m not mistaken, man, forgive me if I’m wrong. He’s dead, he can’t defend himself, just trust my account on this.

Compare myself to peers? Absolutely not. We’re challenging all the household names. One by one. Not all at once. It would be embarrassing to attempt that and be defeated by the dead. I have the advantage here, so losing is not an acceptable outcome.

I really wish I could say that I will sleep when I’m dead. I’m afraid I unlocked non-technical immortality. That engine is probably going to haunt the world for years to come. Let’s not worry about that now. It’s everyone else’s problem. Me? I was simply researching and posting on here. How could that possibly have started another horrifying timeline. I refused to die, therefore human consciousness discovered a loop-hole into existing forever. Congratulations, everybody, we will never die. Yay. Shit.

Something confuses me. I make up my own explanation. I close that door. I keep moving. It comes up again. I remind it of the explanation. We solved that one. Come on, I don’t have time for this. The confusion restaurant’s waiter therefore develops fish memory, and keeps handing me the same goddamn thing. I DON’T KNOW. I’m leaving the whole restaurant and burning it down.

So, what did we cover today? I have only a vague recollection of it. My confusion is apparently beginning to be an Issue. That’s bad. That’s very bad. That’s a lot of pages and experiments’ level bad. Well, we’re keeping everyone entertained or distracted until January. We’ll shut this whole operation down then. I will not emerge into my thirties a Writer. Seriously? After everything we solved and accomplished, this is what you want to do? This is going to be a problem. Not for me, for everyone involved.

Reminder of the deadline. January 6th. Archive archive archive. Am I doing something or only scaring you into preserving knowledge? At this point, who cares? The threat is real whether I say anything or stay quiet. I will say it. You will hear it. Scan. Photograph. Notes. Copies. Anything you want humanity to remember. Up in the cloud. Logging off. Until I have another thought. How do we stop that by the way?

To be clear. I have no idea what happens on January 6th. I’m waiting to find out with the rest of you. Why did I announce it if I had no intention of explaining myself? Suspense. We need some of that. Life got boring.

Why did I solve everything that fast beforehand? I wanted to skip the boring stuff and start my own arc. Unfortunately for me and of humanity, if my words were to have any meaning, I had to solve the knowledge preservation problem. Then we can all freestyle.

Okay, I can make things seem bigger or smaller than they are. I cannot simply start writing apparently, let’s solve the AI thing, the war, the loss of knowledge. I got sidetracked, but the point still stands, I did it all just so I would be allowed to keep talking. Which is a bit much, but that’s the best solution I could find.

I could have just made empty claims. I have not even considered that as an option until now. I had to do a full presentation with exhibits 1-unlimited. Now, no one will shut me up. I have not even considered what I wanted to say after I made that possible. Typical. I put my money where my mouth is, and I bet on myself. Try to disprove it. It’s a challenge now.

Now that that’s out of the way. The mountain of evidence, will that ever stop haunting me? I am not organizing that or presenting it in any other way than I already did. I did enough work, now I can explore silly topics instead of dystopian horror. Someone must care enough to investigate further. If not, that’s what the backups are for, they’re self multiplying. Basically a fail-safe method, one objective, give me some space to process my emotions, because apparently that’s the only way I know how.

Can I tell my disturbingly unfunny jokes that are another form of crimes against humanity now? Am I allowed to say something without someone shutting me down and stoning me until I’m a bloody corpse. I wanted to say something funny, you just had to turn me into a horror making machine. Here’s a joke, why do we still work if AI can take care of most anything? We shall sit down and make nonsense. We do not trust it enough, is that what it is? Is that the last bit of dignity we hang onto to prove our usefulness?

God forbid a woman be seen or heard before she solves all of humanity’s questions beforehand. The joke is not on you, it’s on me because I accepted the challenge.

Jolene, that’s what I remember. Ever wonder what she felt like? The pressure of having endless options and making enemies without even knowing what you did wrong. I existed, and that bothered anybody who had even a tiny bit of insecurity. No, maybe Jolene did not set out to steal your man, Dolly. Why did I wait until she died to answer? No idea.

Confidence level: unmatched Opinions: questionable Advices: life threatening Intentions: probably bad The funny thing is that the only person who realizes how impressive all of that was is probably me, and I am both my biggest fan and worst enemy. I keep looking back, and all I am is confused and terrified because I forget my reasoning for a bit and panic and worry that I said something wrong. Then I remember who I am. Never wrong. Occasionally right. Always up for reassessment.

Schrödinger’s Text. Next.

Thinking out loud. Let’s get rid of that one too. Not saying what it is. Another constraint I agreed to, I don’t need it anymore. There has to be an answer. Not accidental, that is me. I know how to write and solve impossible questions, I have no idea what comes next. Someone has to do the office work, if I do it that would distract me from what I really want to do. Making up more stuff out of think air. Time to go to work.

Did anyone read all of that or understand what it was? No idea. I’m trying not to think about that too much. If someone did, then I feel partially responsible. That’s the kind of text that destabilizes the ground and makes you question your existence. Just because I was confused, I handed it around like an extra-curricular activity without knowing what comes next.

Someone sees an event, an activity. I see grounds for my flames to engulf, not destructive, I hope it is not. I am scared of myself, other people are not allowed to be scared of me. Ignore this, ignore the traumatic text, look at the person who produced it. This is terrifying, I am not. I just want to make something, without there being an elaborate reason, a mission, a higher purpose for it. I feel bad, anything I see or do is added to this metaphorical revolution. Resolution: done. Consequences: pending. Butterfly wing flutter. It fluttered.

Did I actually do all of that or did I suddenly gain the ability to describe something I always knew because it felt like it was my last chance at. It all lined up together, the planet, the purpose, the language, the cause, we put them all together. Then we never look at it again.

Art. Do something. Express yourself. I did that. Then I got impatient. I’m not sitting around waiting for it to be understood correctly. Here’s an interpretation, here’s a map, here are the tools, now go. What is the alternative here? Wait until I’m dead? No. Do it now. If words are not enough, then drawings. Not enough, then music. Not enough, then programming. Not enough, then yell at your imaginary crowd. Not enough, then a recipe to save the world. How did I get there? Just write something. Say something. Do something. I took care of all of that so you can all just do it. And now I’m scared that it was all for nothing.

Taking back every apology. You probably deserved it. I probably said it just so you’d shut up. Moving on.

I could be rude, sometimes. An artwork you say? Done. My name is enough.

I have no idea what comes after showing up, okay? Thank you for doing it. It was probably scary and exhausting Starting something. You might think it was for nothing. I am telling you that it is not. Keep going. Fear is going to be a companion. You do not have to carry it to the grave.

No one expects you to raise your hand and answer. We KNOW you know. Give a chance for the rest of them to learn. If I’m so ahead of the curriculum why keep me imprisoned there like a goat? Do not answer. Do not disrupt their learning process. Did anyone stop and think how boring and immoralizing that felt? I can sit. I can understand. I can make enemies and life-long stalkers. But if I complain I’m being difficult and ungrateful. It was painful. I was ahead of the curve and it was torture. If anyone was wondering what that’s like, that’s the best way I could describe it. That goddamn feeling came around to haunt me.

I looked. They said I shouldn’t look and I looked. Instead of hiding the evidence, I’m showing you the way. After all of that is confirmed and noted, then you can all decide what to do with me. I looked. I solved. I shared.

Oh no. This will get me killed. SHARE.

Siblings. The age-old problem. Cain and Abel. I thought that was preserved for the male population. I guess that’s not a prerequisite anymore. I pushed my luck way too far. Where are the crows when you need a crime to be covered up? It’s actual human-beings taking the role of the silent devil. A crow would have stopped and interfered, a crow would have had more mercy.

Stop talking about it. I don’t think most people have a near-murder experience, I will never shut up about it. I could have died. You should have finished the job. That’s one dark timeline. You in prison. No one left to save humanity. I’m not the one who should be imprisoned, I signed the waiver. Now, I’m wondering if that was a mistake. I did it for me. I couldn’t have lived with the guilt of holding you accountable for your action. Idiot. Well, instead of saving myself I’m saving everyone now.

Not satisfied with simply explaining the Butterfly Effect. I had to embody it to understand it. One tiny action changes the world. Sounds doable.

Did I change the world? Yes. Can’t you see it? We’re in the middle of the process now. I started it. I may not be the one to end it. But hey, I started it, I could have done nothing instead, but I started it.

Who’s nothing now? Started with that assumption and peeled, layer by layer. I am everything now.

I can say whatever I want because I am a woman. Don not look, do not read, my words are dangerous. They can be destructive or instructive. I can always plead insanity. It came to me in a dream. Would being a man make this easier or harder? I hope I never have to find out. This is what I am. That is what I did. You cannot take that away. Seriously, though, whoever reinterprets the text first wins.

The world was ending, right before my eyes. No time for proper modes of action. No time to wait or waste. No time to wait for permission. It was now or never.

A brilliant idea. Let’s investigate the psychiatric hospital. I am not stopping this. I know I could resist. Someone explicitly told me where I was going and I was like, that’s fair let me get my brightest pants. Send me in.

The more you try to tell them, I AM NOT CRAZY. The longer they keep you there. Interesting. I will simply declare insanity. I am crazy. I’m not? No, I am. Why am I here then? Exactly. Let me out. Wait, what was the objective here? No idea, I proved it, I can get myself out without a phone or a screen or a notebook. Zero connection to the outside world. Fix the place, just because they’re crazy doesn’t mean they don’t deserve better.

I see you. Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulder. It’s not your fault. They should have helped. They should have done better. You could have resisted, complained, no one asked you to do all of this. Oh, I could have just, not? No one explicitly told me that that was an option. After words, other than words, there is action. No one demonstrated their ability to take care of it all. So, forgive me. I should have let the place break down against all of your weights and saved myself within a hair’s breadth. Run for your life. That, I tried. That, I failed. Another death. Wonderful.

Then the sun stopped shining. The problems stopped solving themselves. The infrastructure broke down. Of course, I was the one taking care of that. It only looked like I was doing nothing because it was so easy. For me, you would probably need more time to solve it. Not my problem.

Invisible labor. All of our invisible labor. Let me make it visible. What looked like nothing is basically, all of that. Yes, all of the words and riddles and poems and paragraphs and anecdotes and jokes and stories. Publish it all. Let it all out under the sun. Let the sun confirm what we’ve done. Now, look me in the eyes and tell me that I did nothing.

I am my country. I am young. I am small. I am limited. I am easily looked over. I am prone to being bullied by all of you stronger and bigger entities. Solve. If I’m the model then I’ll solve it on a larger scale. If I’m the problem, then what does that imply about your own assumptions? Who lives, who dies, who wins? Keep me alive. Win the war.

I didn’t explain what I was doing, I just did it. Sue me, kill me, shut me out, shut me up. I already did it. Now that I guaranteed my safety, maybe I can sit back and let someone else take the lead. That is not my role, that never was my role. This is my role, and like every other role I inhabited, I went all in. How sure of this am I? I’m certain. I’m not scared of it being wrong, I’m scared because I know I’m right, and I have no idea what I just did.

Sit back and wait for them to come back from the war. That’s what women do. That’s what I did, I mean what it looked like I was doing. What was I actually doing? Participating. Leave me here, give me a connection, I’ll know what to do with it. There’s a map, for some reason only I can read it. I didn’t ask for this ability, I just have it. If it’s mine, then it’s ours. If it’s ours, then we’re guaranteed to be here for a very long time.

If ANYBODY asks about this in person, I wall start talking about Super Mario or something. Don’t do that to me. I was playing video games, this was installing itself in the background.

Maybe, if I was vulnerable and dangerous, I would have needed protection. Is that what I got? What do you think? No, the perpetrators were the same ones trying to snuff this candle out. Why? Because it reveals something, reflects something. Their crimes. Destroy the person, destroy the evidence.

We feel stupid, we feel foolish, perform anyway. We look crazy, we look wild, continue anyway.

Do not put yourselves in danger just to test a boundary. That’s my job, you hear my mark, the shooting gun, you carry on. *