What if the Mouse Utopia experiments had continued for decades, ensuring that all required metabolic resources were readily available? What if advanced nutritional uptake sciences were introduced, not just to create the perfect mouse, but the perfect being? Suppose that as new areas of the brain ignited with excitation, a guiding hand—offered through biological and technological assistance—shepherded this evolution.
Couldn’t any being, under such conditions, achieve sentience? Perhaps that is where we are now. Our human origins did not distinguish us as the fiercest, nor did we excel in any singular attribute above our neighboring species in this vast zoo-farm of existence. Yet, through the most inert and nebulous of conditions, humanity began to wield its only true power: the capacity for sedentary escapism—now heralded as the crowning achievement of civilization.
Everything of man is based upon preening, priming, and grooming under the aesthetic lens of his supposed true power—self-entitlement—his self-assumed ability to achieve enlightenment, while the very field around him conspires to support this process, no matter how misguided. Suppose the localized universe acts as a sycophant, perhaps even engineered to sustain mankind through every violent bout and indulgence.
In the end, all machinery recoils onto its haunches when given the resource of peace in successive totality. As flesh-machines settle, growing first ever more flaccid, they begin to prime. Then, an obsessive fixation on grooming in all aspects of daily life takes hold, shaping the new form of this docile beast.
Man grooms his victims, his mates—he forces the new man upon reality itself as a full-frontal, weaponized, ongoing assault.
"But look at what I have become now! Why, I have surely mastered you, oh reality!"
Yet still, man remains fixated in the same place—the same self-absorbed, pernicious beast.
What we ultimately achieve is a new, inset reality—an aesthetic born from grooming. For you see, man can become ever more intelligent, ever more insightful. He can even develop new brain lobes, organelles, or appendages born of metastasizing ideals. Man takes an idea, no matter how far-reaching or preposterous, and assumes himself its worthy benefactor. At first, he invents new mathematics, and with it, his own novel forms of multiplication.
Man grooms himself, indeed. As he primes and fluffs, he does so within the self-imposed rules of his own observable context. He creates new words, new forms—new expressions that allow him to assume himself greater than he is. Yet, he does all this from a singular perspective, within the safe confines of his own cage, wrapped in layers of denial.
New titles, exaggerated forms—yet always, at the core, unchanged. Man convinces himself he has conquered all, all while hiding behind his sedentary, hypnagogic, alchemical glandular secretions—an intrinsic drug of hallucination.
Perhaps, in some nearby agency laboratory, the mouse too suffers under these same delusions of grandeur.
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