Receptors by JJMR ------------------------------------------------- I sit in a computer access pod inside what used to be the largest casino in Las Vegas, now called Community-Computation-Center: District-89109. A camera scans my retinas and I get the grey toned menu of the government's portal displayed on my full-face visor. The electrochemical signals in my brain get re-directed to a BCI processing chip implanted by the regime in my motor cortex, and I open my job's portal page by thinking it. On top, the date reads November 10, 2179: 14:12:23. Next to the date are my initials: JJMR, and then my classification: civilian-a-unit-733+. My job is to scan the Internet for recorded history before 2026 and delete everything I find. There used to be an AI created by OLD DOGE that did that job, but the central government grew fearful that the intelligence was getting too autonomous and unplugged it. My job makes me somewhat of a history buff; I access information the government does not want ordinary folks to come across… The regime wants to wipe all traces of how, many years ago, a bunch of corrupted politicians and greedy oligarchs destroyed democracy by disregarding what used to be called the Rule of Law, decapitating an ideal named the American Dream. Propaganda disguised as patriotism was fed to the uneducated "sheep", who ended up voting-into power authoritarian leaders… and those "wolves" created our fascist regime "for the good of all". The AI had only done about half the job before being deactivated, and now, it is my duty, and about other five hundred individuals in my department, to wipe out what's left-behind. The New World Order ideology is all everyone needs to know according to Great Leader. My supervisor often praises me for finding and erasing incriminating information about the regime's rise to power... and that feeds my ego. Our Internet is a centralized system: Computation-Center-Control-0001 is in Denver, underground a military facility that used to be one of the largest airports in the world. A quantum array of exascale mainframes, powered with AMD 10th-Gen EPYC 128-core CPUs and AMD Instinct MI900A APUs, serve as the centralized computer power and data storage to all Computation Districts. This enables the regime to have full control. Nobody owns their own computers or devices anymore as they were confiscated and destroyed by the fascist overseers; if the herd wants a ride in cyberspace, they must login at a computation center and buy time with government credits. The eyes of oppression upon us. ------------------------------------------------- My friends, I have always known that the nature of my job makes me a target for termination. Great Leader is probably not happy with me and my knowledge roaming around with the capacity of contaminating the sheep like a virus. My teammates and I hold too much forbidden knowledge. I have heard rumors of difficult employees disappearing. Today is somewhat of an anomaly. A flicker on my visor and a 55 Hz buzz in my ear have given me an agonizing headache. I close my eyes and bite my lips. When I open them again, I see the word TESLA on my visor's screen. It displays only for about twenty seconds and then the image flickers away. The government portal is back in view. The incident repeats itself several times more, but with less intensity. What is… TESLA? ------------------------------------------------- I am an opinionated man. I hold deep theories about this world; opinions that I dare not vent out of my innermost self. But I do think these thoughts, mainly when I dream at night. Lately, I have dreamt hundreds of scenarios about the word that invaded my workspace. Now at work, I summon a lot of courage and do a mental search for the word TESLA. I get nothing on my first try, and I dare not try again for fear of getting reprimanded by the ghosts in the wires. ------------------------------------------------- I love the aroma of Arabian coffee spiced with cinnamon. I love the taste of carrot cake with mocha flavored whip cream on top. I indulge my tastebuds with such pleasures in my leisure-time, my friends. I hear my cat, Romulus, scratching the door outside, and I get up to let him in. As I walk, I get dizzy, and the word TESLA flashes brightly in my consciousness. I fall on my knees until I recover my senses. I think to myself, what the heck is going on, as I stand slowly and make my way to sit on the sofa. Rom keeps scratching the door… he is just going to have to wait. I close my eyes, and I see the word once again brightly in my mental inner-screen, as if I was staring at my visor when at work. I am not connected; this does not make sense. I get up and head to the liquor cabinet and take a big gulp from a whiskey bottle, trying to numb my senses. My head is pounding. I have no acetaminophen products. I am ready to head out the door to the pharmacy when I hear rapid loud knocks. I open the door; THCA: civilian-a-unit-777+ is holding Rom in his arms. The problem with this, my friends, is that THCA has been dead for about four years. ------------------------------------------------- "You are dead! this cannot be!" "You do not believe your own eyes, my brother?" "But the regime said there were eyewitnesses that saw you jump from Hoover's Dam, they said all that was left of you was a blob of flesh and blood at the bottom." "That is what they wanted all of you to believe." This person in front of me is not an astral projection. Here he is, holding my cat, and talking to me with a relax soothing voice. THCA computer pod was next to mine when we worked together. Shortly after his "death", the pod was removed completely. I started noticing that many team members would be replaced more and more frequently. I did not dare to ask questions; the regime does not like pesky questions. "My brother, I know you have received my message. I have lots to tell you." ------------------------------------------------- THCA and I had a very long conversation. He said he had been abducted by regime goons and imprisoned for hacking into the central system. His escape story was right out of a spy novel, which I will not dwell into, my friends, and instead, I will tell you about his transgression. ------------------------------------------------- Curious persons often get in trouble, not because they want to get in trouble, but because curiosity and trouble share a polarity. Hard at work in his computer pod, THCA came across a channel that contained the history of computer wizards, their teachings and their exploits. He became intrigued by their kind of magic, and before deleting the information, he secretly copied it away in a folder that he eventually learned to encrypt and hide. Day after day he accumulated knowledge about systems, networks, and the tools and programming code used to instruct and dominate the "gods from the machine". One afternoon, he concluded that he might be able to manipulate the central system. THCA started his mischievousness by giving common users extra time in their computing usage; a minute more here a minute more there, nothing too obvious. He felt an incredible joy just to know that he was able to do it. He felt invisible to the regime's ever-seeing eye. He adopted a philosophy he read about called hacktivism. He felt that everyone had the right to access information as they pleased, whenever they wanted, and for free. THCA started sending sublime messages to coworkers; he had hacked the mechanism that sent information to the BCI in our motor cortex. The messages were a way to find out who in the team was woke enough and open to recruitment, to form a freedom fighting cell to help the masses regain control of their freewill. One day, the ever-seeing eye scanned the central system during a scheduled maintenance, common protocol, and found a disturbance. THCA was abducted from his apartment one foggy night, and the next morning everyone was told about his "tragic suicide". ------------------------------------------------- During our conversation, THCA told me about a magician, a mad scientist named NIKOLA TESLA, who had invented radio, alternating current power, neon lights, hydroelectric power, remote control, and most important, the distribution of electrical power through thin air. TESLA planned to distribute electricity through the air for free, but his plans were suppressed by corporate greed. He deleted TESLA off the system as instructed by his supervisor; but he saved some of the data in his encrypted file. Tomorrow, we are to meet again. ------------------------------------------------- "My brother, I have found a way to bypass our implanted BCIs and get information directly to our internal neural network. Everything vibrates, we are all about rhythm and vibrations. Information is already travelling the airwaves. We need to tune our brain receptors to the correct frequencies." "How we do that?" "We all have our own internal TESLA Towers… we have natural receptors built within our brains. We must train it, through focused meditations, become sages of our own consciousness, our inner antennas. I tapped into your receptors when I sent you my message. We have to train everyone so they can free themselves from their constrained cages." ------------------------------------------------- My friends, have you ever experienced moments when an idea pops into your head, and you think about acting upon it, just to realize that someone else has already thought it and implemented it? Is that our receptors capturing information from the universe like TESLA Towers? THCA’s vision is exactly that, the conquest and distribution of free information without the gods in the machine. A true serverless natural technology already in existence, only awaiting to be tapped into… to be taken away from the oppressors and the corrupters of knowledge. With the masses gaining access to knowledge, with the masses finally educated, with the masses regaining consciousness, the falsehoods of the regime and fascist overlords can be overturned. Tapping into the universe, no… hacking into the universe like ancient gurus... is the gameplan. This is no mysticism, this is no religion. This is the realization that technology is synonymous to nature. Are not we already ultimate extraordinary biological computational "machines"? Our path has been mapped. We have work to do, my friends.