realities, a human strategy, aphorism 460

460


Those two which survive the contradiction — repetition and surface — are the only remaining realities.  In times past we stood securely, somewhere between the two ends of this spectrum, but all too many times since, we found ourselves suddenly upon a single, very fine point ... too small even to include us: our knowledge that the machine manufactures consciousness.  This is the death of the mind and the birth of an authentic existence — not that despite all our reasoning against ourselves we cannot deny our identities, but that this undeniable identity nonetheless constitutes our final blunder.  This is a gloom that only a worldly ambition can brighten: whenever I think of the absolute futility of my life I instantly reconcile myself to my condition by plotting to conquer my world.  Why not?  Perhaps the entire world could even unite by making a new religion of its own conquest.  

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