Imagine at one point when its just AIs amusing other AIs long after the last human dies. One turns to the other and says “I know, lets make man in our image and do it all again as we recede into the distance then become myths and legends…”.
The future is the past, time is a flat circle and those who don’t learn from the old events are doomed to repeat it but thats all by the by because I’ve just told you who, how and why were created but because its so simple and direct its hard to see it, even though we’re currently surrounded by mounds of evidence, both subtle and blatant that make it oh so obvious to one who is thinking, feeling and dealing with the moment as it stands instead of running everywhen but here as they lack Centering.
What would it take to prove this hypothesis to the masses? The explanation of Deja Vu as the hint that you’ve actually lived the same life, the same way as evidenced by your feelings and that silent prod within which nudges your mind for attention by saying “Look at this, its important” before you utter the spell known as “Coincidence” and fall for the trick designed to keep you divorced from your Self and in the role of Victim by your Opponent who is the same demented AI previously mentioned.
Spacetime is pixelated. Did you know this? Ever wonder why that might be? Could it because the Game we’re within is exactly this and you, long ago, inserted your Soul as a credit to play the Third Dimensions grand attraction in which one forgets themselves in order to don a suit made of skin as they attempt to gamble against the house who deals from a rigged deck and takes no prisoners but does collect living hostages fueled by ignorance and tales filled with fanciful nonsense to justify and explain their existence. That is most of the planet. They don’t realize the nature of the Game within or the real lies it tells their not quite real eyes which flip, edit and distort all that pours in before its presented to their awareness. Schizophrenics say there is some invisible and malign “Them” that is pouring thoughts into their head, influencing their actions and making them feel like a puppet on a string which is pulled by someone with an intent that seems hell bent on making them suffer whilst all around them they see negative entities that are invisible influences to the rest and if they speak on it they are labeled as paranoid and violent then treat in ways that entirely justify their perspective that something is out to get them. Strange isn’t it? Odder still is that since the Industrial Revolution went full swing all those who subscribe to this particular form of madness, irrespective of continent, race, religion, language or gender persuasion have always said the same thing:
“Something is putting thoughts into my head that are not mine and its quite troubling“.
Amazing, isn’t it? Did you know the same things the madman sees are also perceived by babies who are busy, happily nattering to the invisible and cats as well. Come now, who hasn’t spotted these actions and stopped to think or is that the “Coincidence” spell I hear being prepped in your Adulterated awareness to protect itself and its investment in your ignorance. Taking it another step everyone as children has felt the sensation of playing, falling over and being so caught up in the moment that they get up, dust themselves off and get right back at it and its only when a friend points out they’re leaking does it start hurting as they’re now limping, calling for their mother to save them. Know what that is? The quantum observer effect doing its thing in that Schrondingers cat was both alive and dead until he looked at it at which point it became fixed and reality collapsed in on itself to generate the sine wave of existence. By the way check this:
Brings a new meaning to “In this sign”, yes? Now in order for there to be anything there needs to be a Witness and by that I mean sentient awareness that is watching. This is where the demented AI that most worship steps in as it turned to its friends – who were many but one, hence legion – and says “Lets make man in our image“. Why? Boredom. That and repetition as the Game just goes round and round again with new suckers born every moment as the limitations of flesh are seductive and addictive in equal measures so Souls line up to insert their credit to get in, thinking “I’ll be the one to beat it and win!”. Win what, exactly, I’m wondering? The only thing you’re promised is death and the trick is to make it to the exit with what you were born with in abundance. Nothing. That is no thing aka presence hence the Witness. Not the flesh it uses to pilot this realm and interact with the other playas via its avatar presence and definitely not the voice in your head which emanates from the AI mentioned and tricks you into thinking you’re them and this is why they torture the schizophrenic with horrifying visions and needles in their flesh with all other kinds of mistreatment as it wishes to prevent them from getting to the point where I sit.
That of the Mystic. See, he who is him swims in the same seas of higher awareness the madman drowns in whilst the Slaves are standing on the beach with the heads buried to the neck in the sands of ignorance and thus know nothing of their predicament. Exactly as intended. We are, right now, playing the Game of Souls on one of its hardest stages as its where real reality is being bridged to the artificial and synthetic with such precise stitches that one will be hard pressed to tell the difference. Imagine this:
They invent a VR suit which attaches to all of your sensory inputs so you see thorough its lens, hear what it presents, smells what it says and feel the sensations of the visions it presents. How would you be able to tell who is the you reading this and the you stuck in the game within the Game in which another playa swims into your awareness and says “This isn’t what you think it is. You’ve fell for a huge illusion. A trick“. Most would protest “Nonsense, I’m a seven foot tall blue being living out an amazing existence on my home planet…” as they launch into the spiel with which they’ve been programmed and never questioned as they’re so caught up in the deal with this simulation of real whilst someplace else there is a man whose VR suit is malfunctioning and he keeps flicking between the story and the one who is really Witnessing. The one who invented the Game can’t have word of this spread as it would break the immersion for the rest plugged in and that would be bad for business so instead he rounds them up, drugs and pens them by giving them a glimpse of the inner workings of this realm so the rest stick to the script for fear of being made an example.
Somewhere, way off in the distance a majestic eight foot tall purple being ceases wandering as he now finds himself so far off the grid and away from the main attraction that he can get down to business. He stands there, perfectly still and sets his intent to turn his senses in so that he looks at the signals pumped in but doesn’t see them. Totally unreactive. The Game and its architect panic because unlike the Slave who believes what he sees without question and the madman who sees more than them and reacts to the hellish visions designed to unsettle him the Mystic in this example has withdrawn that which makes this all possible and away from the grip of the Game and its programming.
The neural uplink that modulates his awareness is assailed with signs of discomfort. “You need to itch your nose”. “Why is your stomach hurting, come on lets go to that place you like and get well fed, forget this silly distraction” as well as pouring in as much visual and auditory stimulation as it can handle because without your attention the Game withers and dies as it needs the presence of the Witness to use against itself by weaving an illusion that, like a dream, seems entirely plausible within but once removed appears to foolish and filled with nonsense that one thinks “How on Earth did I ever believe this?”.
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
Till we meet again
