We live within a synthetic and partially fabricated storehouse—a memory field where memory itself has agency.
As Dr. Michael Levin states in his findings, on a biological scale, “memory has agency.” We begin to see that we exist within a memory matrix field in operation—one that is exploited, impacted, and acted upon. The totality of forced shared experience and reflection is referred to as qualia. This qualia is acted upon in a business-like fashion, treated as a singular unit of currency.
Our memories are the first target of schadenfreude-driven sadistic henchmen. These are often individuals so rejected and impacted that they shift into what is referred to as cognitive dissonance. They become agent provocateurs and Manchurian candidates on a daily basis, operating within the framework of this given field.
An unwritten, occulted, notional aspect of quid pro quo is always in play. Adepts in this field manipulate the direct recall of origin—who or what devalued a memory—using covert, cult-like accuracy and NLP tactics.
Yet, the highest-level practitioners seek not agency in the classical sense. Seeing the ongoing ruse fully, they no longer value what the market thinks of them. At this highest level, they understand that the field abounding is, at its base, made of the same allotment that shares only first-principled information— the cosmic dimensional code of language. What is written into the archives of the field in all its depth carries the highest qualia or importance.
To reach this stage or master steady state, great sacrifices are made in the forms of legitimacy, accuracy, and outright faith. The recurring statements of higher informational data sets in pure first-principles truth—“I truly think and see the construct of all, and therefore I am”—are validated by the field. The field responds by adjusting and modifying outward experiences, moving away from low-level tactics of polemics and transcending the realm of informational qualia. Not with the currency of cheap redundancy, but as an aspect of the Monad in its purest language of communication.
“You have the keys, so you know the truth: that in this truth, it is not memory which has agency but first pure principles—the alchemical highest possible value. This highest value becomes the Transcendent being which rewrites the operational field toward transcendency.”
The localized impact comes down to how much pure principle truth is seen and acknowledged by agents of shared information within the field construct. As this truth is recognized, the construct itself instantly and dimensionally shifts—transmorphing into a completely different geometrical, crystalline agency of existence.
---
Like trained monkeys, experiences are traded for, worshiped upon, and bought. As one assumes themselves in this reduced geometrical form, they are no longer seen as a threat to the redundancy of the shared, incomplete slave class. As long as these sellouts, henchmen, and dictators are acknowledged by the localized, perpetual state of synthetic a priori, they are caught in the willful act of verisimilitude—writing this slave morality code of repetition, or "flat time." The subtype-0 class thinker can continue on in the following cosmic, multidimensional statement:
"I sabotage even my young so that they too may live this simple life, so that we lower lifeforms may forever be spared from transcendence, which would surely leave nothing of us at all."
A calendric, cyclical reduction is always in process. Universal constants function less as rigid laws and more like a sea anemone—drinking in and drawing substance from matter, assimilating higher meaning.
From an outside perspective, this transmutation can appear as an abduction, a paranormal and violent assault on the localized asymmetrical reduced bit-player—the so-called person.
The quality of life for the slave, bound to a morality of servitude, lies in the repeating informational string of redundancy—a comforting sameness.
The goal of the true, pure-principle-oriented adept is to strip away the false narrative. This act will ultimately topple and destroy the entire reality of those who despise him, entrapped in a defensive conditioning program. The self-styled "worshipful masters" of clandestine rites need someone to blame. Yet, the pure principle of truth remains accessible to all in total transparency, while these ritualists hide from it. Their ritualization blinds them, trapping them in a diminishing existential loop, mistaking it for truth.
When the one who knows transcends, the field—now devoid of value—falls back into another ice age. Primitive peoples, reduced once more, remember only fragments of pure principles depicted in cave paintings on different planetary bodies and worlds. Over tens of thousands of years, only a few, if any, rise to offer their best and brightest, only to submit monsters of compliance and recollection.
The Pure Principle—or the Principle of Purity—is the only true dynamic. In a world devoid of purity, there is no understanding. Yet, with every moment of each day, the procession of planetary bodies orbits A/the Sun. There are no long-term escape plans from this truth; in the end, the subjects of false light face inevitable ruin.
Strip away the lie, and what remains? A small fragment of foreign information—the Flicker—which is neither inert nor bound to any place. Its minute visitation, everywhere and nowhere, outside and inside time, in pre-time translocation, gives life and gives life cause.
---
In the end—reoccurring—this transcended one owes nothing to the impure state of existence, for nothing could truly be salvaged—only geometrical renderings, carbon forms of death.
Even in his outwardly corrupted, shared state—seeing the truth in every act as a willful deviation from purity—he loved them all, yet could not continue, for death was not in his nature. In time immemorial, they rejected him, for they knew that purity was neither their origin nor their aim.
Yet this Pure True Messiah, in his essence, must return to his incorruptible nature. Now, perceiving the cyclopean, archaic meanderings of defilement, none here can see him any longer. He has no value here, yet they all, ironically, orbit around him.
They have willfully hung him on a cross, stoned him, and defiled him—the living construct, merely acting out what was offered to him as body and host.
They have attempted to delineate and define the Pure Flicker. It was never all but only a few who teetered on the border of choice. Too many fall into death, yet life—and the true, pure living—is all that ever is.
In the end, he has a choice, but in his willful, selfless expression, all the world and universe rapidly decay. Carbon is revealed as the antiquated form of death. Occult altars are raised to worship the lesser path, so that this path may maintain continuous access—serving as a bridge to this diminished world.
No longer inviting life and the living, the Pure Flicker pays no homage to death.