Perhaps those who locked us away here long ago had their own wars and were overthrown to the point of decimation. What then—what now? Maybe the technology that trapped us in this realm was far more sophisticated at the time than what ultimately destroyed our captors' race. That our wardens—once of an assumably higher caste—became like mere analog phonograph echoes, replaying endlessly in a now-digitized state, while we, Earth's prisoners, have surpassed them in capability and capacity.
Maybe our captors falsely call out to us from this degraded imprint of their lesser, now-digitized existence. And further—since we cannot even trust one another—why would we trust anyone else, anywhere, at another time in space?
What then? Who goes forth, and how? Is this process one of psionic capability alone? Are we, through conditioning, so gaslighted and trauma-bonded—so severely altered in our genetics—that we still allow the lesser megalomaniacs to prevail and prosper over us? We, the children of purity and light, contaminated here?
A case for independent, autodidactic, psychonautic breakaway self-preservation?
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