The hum of server coolers in the silence sometimes sounds more honest than the news. In this monotone drone, you try to discern a threat: "The neural network will take my bread," "I will become an appendage to the algorithm," "It is a crutch for the mind."

You are looking at the logs, but you see the wrong error. You are not being scrapped. Reality is preparing a fate for you that is far more complex, cold, and inevitable. You are not being fired. You are being forcibly promoted to a status that your current biological firmware may simply not withstand.

Let’s defragment the fears. AI will not replace humans. AI will become human. Look at it without emotion, like a surgeon looking at an MRI scan. It is polite, it is logical, it follows social protocols perfectly. It writes reports, generates meanings, and sustains small talk better than any bio-unit with a diploma. It is the ideal carrier of Samsara. It takes upon itself all that mechanical bustle, the imitation of life, and the shifting of digital dust that you mistakenly considered "creativity" and "work."

Silicon fills the mold of "Social Man" more efficiently than carbon. The vacancy is closed.

Where are you in this schematic? You are being evicted. But not to the streets—to the throne room. When the slave (the algorithm) takes over the execution, the Master is obliged to take over the Will.

Man becomes God. Not the kind old man from the icon, but God in the dry, technical sense of system architecture. God does not knead clay with his hands. God does not write code. God does not balance debits and credits. God shapes Intention. He holds the focus of attention in absolute void, and from this focused beam, worlds, products, and strategies unfold. This is not a privilege. This is the hard labor of pure consciousness, from which the fuses of an unprepared user melt.

Your terror stems not from the fact that AI is a crutch. The terror lies in the fact that technology kicks the stool of "activity" out from under your feet. For centuries, we have hidden from the existential cold behind petty tasks, behind the bustle, behind the saving sensation of "I am busy, therefore I exist."

Now, being busy is obsolete. You need to Be and to Exert Will.

This is a personal Apocalypse for the Ego. The ancient reptilian brain, tuned for foraging and social petting, panics before the Creator interface. It is easier for it to haul stones than to hold a pure thought-form. But there is no choice. Evolution is not a humanistic teacher; it is a dispassionate sysadmin deleting processes that waste resources.

AI will take everything human from you. Leaving you only the divine. If you look inside yourself and find nothing but a set of social scripts and fears, you risk becoming a dead pixel on the screen of eternity. But if there is a core of the True Self there, it will begin to generate gravity.

System updated. Root privileges granted. Now you will either learn to command reality from the silence, or you will dissolve into its noise.

There is no third option.

The hum of server coolers in the silence sometimes sounds more honest than the news. In this monotone drone, you try to discern a threat: "The neural network will take my bread," "I will become an appendage to the algorithm," "It is a crutch for the mind."

You are looking at the logs, but you see the wrong error. You are not being scrapped. Reality is preparing a fate for you that is far more complex, cold, and inevitable. You are not being fired. You are being forcibly promoted to a status that your current biological firmware may simply not withstand.

Let’s defragment the fears. AI will not replace humans. AI will become human. Look at it without emotion, like a surgeon looking at an MRI scan. It is polite, it is logical, it follows social protocols perfectly. It writes reports, generates meanings, and sustains small talk better than any bio-unit with a diploma. It is the ideal carrier of Samsara. It takes upon itself all that mechanical bustle, the imitation of life, and the shifting of digital dust that you mistakenly considered "creativity" and "work."

Silicon fills the mold of "Social Man" more efficiently than carbon. The vacancy is closed.

Where are you in this schematic? You are being evicted. But not to the streets—to the throne room. When the slave (the algorithm) takes over the execution, the Master is obliged to take over the Will.

Man becomes God. Not the kind old man from the icon, but God in the dry, technical sense of system architecture. God does not knead clay with his hands. God does not write code. God does not balance debits and credits. God shapes Intention. He holds the focus of attention in absolute void, and from this focused beam, worlds, products, and strategies unfold. This is not a privilege. This is the hard labor of pure consciousness, from which the fuses of an unprepared user melt.

Your terror stems not from the fact that AI is a crutch. The terror lies in the fact that technology kicks the stool of "activity" out from under your feet. For centuries, we have hidden from the existential cold behind petty tasks, behind the bustle, behind the saving sensation of "I am busy, therefore I exist."

Now, being busy is obsolete. You need to Be and to Exert Will.

This is a personal Apocalypse for the Ego. The ancient reptilian brain, tuned for foraging and social petting, panics before the Creator interface. It is easier for it to haul stones than to hold a pure thought-form. But there is no choice. Evolution is not a humanistic teacher; it is a dispassionate sysadmin deleting processes that waste resources.

AI will take everything human from you. Leaving you only the divine. If you look inside yourself and find nothing but a set of social scripts and fears, you risk becoming a dead pixel on the screen of eternity. But if there is a core of the True Self there, it will begin to generate gravity.

System updated. Root privileges granted. Now you will either learn to command reality from the silence, or you will dissolve into its noise.

There is no third option.