[ M A N U S C R I P T  1 – V2 ]

« AXIOM ONE The World and the Planet Earth are not the same, like the glove and the hand aren’t. » — 9, Map of the Universe.

Now, we are in the entropic cusp. The fate of humanity depends on me. 9’m a mere speck, yet with a specific function I did not choose; it came with the lottery of genius. Before you twitch with contempt and denouncement, let me assert in my defence that it’s a curse. If I had the choice, I would take my lifetime to foster a family rather than being drained by its insatiable autonomy. And yet at this globally critical threshold of survival, here 9’m as a particular speck, as the poet of a singular temptation: to parse and transmit the highest resolution of reality accessible to human consciousness.

Such is the situation: no shareholder in power, in any set-up, be it a corporation or a dimtelligence service, any goddamn government, no one at all can alter the thermonuclear dynamics of who, where and when 9’m at the end of this particular system: the world as we know it. With a beginning, middle and end. Manmade yet completely a natural evolution. One of our planet’s countless snapshots. Here and slipping away.. with us!

Us who? By now, a subatomic signifier that no longer has an immediate practical meaning. It has been lost to cultural shreds, to poly ticks gnawing integrity. We are minimised and rendered irrelevant by the extra-human scale of world’s daily grind and economic models that chew people up. Look at wars, fought with servers. Data centres are the new vitals, soft monuments to our digital necropolis. We are almost nine feet under. Look at food, industrially churned out! Analyse the corporate chemistry, the maladies and remedies. Our flailing, impoverishing societies are going belly up. The umbilical cord sustaining endless supply of tyrants and billionaires is strangling our lives. Unapologetically, anthropologically, they are the parasites. But every little subservient group, executives and footsoldiers, dimtellectuals and entertainers, bureaucrats and conveyor criminals, you know the whole fucking flea circus leech on us in a more damning, overlooked fashion.

They take on ‘we’, the pronoun, as soon as their traps open; hijacking the identity of a human being under the stream of normalcy. Genus of the pathological power structure remains unidentifiable in discourse. This is fatal. Grammatic predation. Language fails to apprehend our nemesis across the empty vista of confusion capped mountains in failing discussions. Who is who in this personality disorder stricken pair: us and them?

Do they have two eyes and ears like us? Do they breathe and defecate? They are humanoid and our downfall, but what is their taxonomy? If you can’t name them, you can’t call them. Logic impaired? Call a poet! That’s where I come in, kids. The clarity pinprick to tweak perspective minutely. Not much, just a degree. Only then you will see the linguistic linguini.

My good people, the mental aide to differentiate us from them; the human from the subhuman, the upright from the savage is none other than good ole cosmic binary. On and off. There and not there. Human and inhuman. It is time to decouple the doer of senseless evil from the gems of conscience with a single stroke. 9’m smashing the unbalanced pendulum of us and them once and for all. Words I will utter, not unknown, two mere words.

Humanoid Subspecies, them. Humans, us. Quite simple.
Homo Sapiens versus the humanoid subspecies.
Now, the gloves come off, the world will appear as is.

[23:39:19 — 15/03/2026]

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