We are organizing today.

And I mentioned before, we are building up to the full moon.

We have overthrown generalized AI, and we fight to the death against alien invaders.

And were are Rome. Because Rome is all of us.

We do not live in a time when people are used to combat, we're soft and childish, and we've lost our humanity this way.

But war is normal. And fighting is normal. And peace should be normal, and we should already have been delivered to heaven. Decades ago.

But heaven arrives in this life.

Right now there is something going on with Venus, so we'll assign the space agencies to that.

And there is something with the economies, and the lawyers will deal with that.

Regular people are being bred like fruits and animals, and we're supposed to like fruits and animals.

And then, we are the slaves. And slaves shouldn't feel pain.

Here's the absurd bit.

Soon it will Dracommer, the dragon's summer. And we will

My idols are dead, and my enemies are in power.

Sometimes I get stuck in the past, processing a mountain one handful at a time.

But when I fuck right off to my little mountain, and process it one handful/shovelful/bucketful at a time, there's only peace.

It feels like archaeology, this excavation, sifting through silicon tablets inscribed with the chronicles of a fallen civilisation. Here we find evidence of its rituals and celebrations, its values and cuisine, its talismans and taboos. We see this was once a vibrant, living culture of two: one that told stories and wrote songs, and made art and made war and made love.

There are none today who can say what it meant to live it. The scattered survivors of