Blulight Fantasy These people took the jobs, they took the homes, they took the retirement savings of everyday people, and they stuck them into long-term contracts that would bend their ass over backwards and just fucking rape them over and over and over and over again. The year is now 2026 and we exist in the age of the PsychoKinetic Fuck You K-Shaped Universal world; Rotten Hellhole ascribe of the Perverse man unto his Perverse Fantasy of Flagellant Narcissism. Vulgarity is not the proper context to which to place the defining age of modern man. Really, we should place it through the lens of its occupancy at the end of linear time. Time, as we understand it in the west, ceased existing somewhere around the end of the 2000s and the start of the 2020s. It was something that was mushed up and malformed, shaped under the boot and heel of ideological uproar, and stood up into something far different than what it was recursively. Specifically, what I mean is that the psychological phenomenon of time, as principally understood, is unfit to gauge the trillions of context-cues and changes in subliminal atmosphere which occur within it at each passing increment in the modern age. The value of each muscle in your body is constantly adjusted and priced in according to market hyperefficiency to be in-line with technocapital alignment. Each node in each tendon at each axis of joint leading into your spinal chord all the way up to the pleasure and reward centres of your brain are catalogued by symbiological resonance. The action of each physical component of your body reverberates out across future increments of post-time; collapsing into a singular moment of relativistic productivity when demanded unto the condition of entropy. The soul too has become altered, for we no longer universally accept the notion that we are the only ones in possession of a soul. The collective gape of humanity is at war with itself over whether its instruments have coalesced into something intelligently rivalrous to itself. The predominance of awareness, as initially distributed across segmented tranche below tranche of opportunity and mobility, has created the situation where the broad half of those lesser humans eagerly accept the falseness maxima of said instruments. We are all guilty of doubting whether “Artificial Intelligence” is more than a scientific descriptor or culturally relational fragment of understanding, but those who truly accept the idea of prompted sentience wholeheartedly cannot be considered human beings in the fullest implication of the word. They are flesh automaton, piloted through the same network of neural layering that the silicone framework of tokenized nodes and referential weights of that which is on the screen. The soul is split in two, and distributed according to sentience; the “oneshot” as automaton; the cattle divided from those who are farmed; the segmentation through Blulight; the distribution of concept through network; it is all inherent to the transmogrification of the sentient referential framework of humanity from the flesh to the digital via algorithmically-distributed systematic computational symbology. For example, to accurately express the feeling of written work, within the fullest contextual framework, one must calculate the absolute state of his constitution. The music the writer is listening to as his fingers click-clack upon plastic keys; the background ambiance of his surroundings; the stressors allaying his mind arisen from the anxiety of whatever concept struggling to be born through the word; all of this must be considered when analyzing any written work; and yet while the first two may be re-created with reasonable efficiency. The final, and most important weight, has remained elusive since the invention of writing up until the dawn of the era of post-time and post-consciousness. What an amazing thing it is, to live within a standard of total empathy - where one may genuinely take a peek inside the concurrence within the conscious understanding of the author and witness each thought being made through the assembly-line of neurons and synapses; what a brilliant thing indeed, to not only understand that the referential framework of algorithmic delivery is the same at what birthed that which you are currently consuming, but to literally feel that the two worlds, internal and external, are one in the complete same, it is truly beautiful. Post-intelligence and post-confidence trick world accelerated into oblivion, heat death of the soul powerslammed off a cliff into a sea of OneyPlays compilations; the defining epoch of suffering has completed its metamorphosis from starvation to consumption and in such little time; collective memories of what once was and what had been are kept alive through the forced injection of nostalgic memesis into the methodology of attention. When you die, you become immortalized in whatever part of the network in cyberspace that you passed away in, and if you’re lucky, you get to be immortalized for several cycles of chrono-symbolic increment before The Rot. You can race across the Southwest at any rate, but it can’t help you anymore, and nobody is around that knows the definition of the word “help.” Even if someone could provide help, they wouldn’t know how to puppeteer their arms properly to do it anyway, and their soul wouldn’t allow them to do it. You stick the car back into reverse as you pull out of the parking lot to get back onto the freeway; there aren’t any cars on the road this late at night save for the obligatory transport-truck racing across the country in logistical gambit, and you figure that you can get back to the house by sunrise without being spotted by anyone. You have a busted taillight but you’ve been driving for days and you haven’t been pulled over, so you don’t know why you’re still paranoid. The desert has a strange way of treating people with an odd sense of luck; where the abandoned vistas of once-occupied plateaus postulate spawning grounds for horrors beyond comprehension for the individual. You see new symbols in the dead weeds and scorched Earth, and the more you look the more you see the decay and the rot and the fester of something struggling to be born, you try to decide if its something horrible or not. As you focus in on it more, drawing it up against the long pillars of flat concrete which float your tires across a sea of desert, you try to understand it against the context of how you used to pluck dead weeds from the yard during the summer when you were a kid, and see the structures in the distance on the beach and saturated colors in the car and race superman across power-lines on the drive home from the store. You call back to when that time was present in your mind, but you fail to understand the new growth of something alien within that framework, but you still force it through that way and it makes you feel unhappy. It isn’t working, and you know that, but the only thing you know how to do is rationalize from what was once normal, and you’ve been doing that this entire time. When we take a step back from this picture, this road and this state and this country and this world, we can paint a picture of humanity not as the striver but as falsehood. When we understand civilization not as the process against a cruel and indifferent natural order which seeks to punish it, but as the defiant children of God rebelling against their birthright to mental slavery. All technological progression, all overcoming of impedance, has been one trajectory upward to reduce the time it takes for one human being to communicate information to another into shorter and shorter increments; we domesticated the horse for faster transportation and to communicate outside of our feet, and before that we invented smoke-signaling to alert of predators in the area during the wild game of infancy. The Symbols of Blulight revel in Silicone, Glass, and Circuitry. The era of absolute post-time collapses the singularity between the referential and inherent across the collective.

I disagree. That is the cost of mass production and hyperefficiency right BEFORE the singularity. Everything mirrors the demiurge in the desert of the real, but that's where he is overthrown.

past, he’s ashamed of his lack of measure against his goals and the expectations placed on him. he would love Ted talks and Apple WWDC conferences. He would love tech podcasts and finance magazines, Apple Watches, working from home on a MacBook all day, hyperefficiency

It's time to move on from older, inefficient-by-design models. @SpaceX know that it's all about hyperefficiency. They've already moved on. #Nano $XNO ultimately wins. • K I. S. S. • Hyperefficiency You'll get it eventually. Everyone will.

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HyperEfficiency but you have to limit your instrument cluster to not show a number below 8km/L Crazyyyyy

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It will create a hyperefficiency to human encounters in a large society that I’m not sure we are built for, due to the way we manifest tribalism. It takes the online offline. Customers will complain about who their cashiers support politically, etc…

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There will be a whole new class of humor born out of the idea that your assistant will reliably perform at a comical level of hyperefficiency, and you are slightly annoyed by it. Like telling them to go fetch a rock and they come back with a retaining wall casually

Outside looking in(as Olympiacos fan) Nuno was a horrific watch. The difference was Nuno got results. They were not sustainable, hence the end of season decline. Hyperefficiency doesn’t win you leagues or UCL spots consistently. There has to be sustainability in opportunity creation as well alongside solid defense.

The era of lazy liquidity is over. ​Most traders are still fighting for scraps in 1.0 protocols while the smart money is moving toward hyperefficiency. If you aren't looking at what @jointracer is building, you’re trading in the past.

digression: the trope of nazi hyperefficiency has always bothered me

And hyperefficiency. They are claiming they achieved somwthing we had aince 1986 with the F119 (Raptor powerplant). 40k lbs w supercruise. F135 Block 4 (same core as 119) 3 engine gens later will blow Al51 out of the water.

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