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.