To continue your immersion in the Digispace Full-body Best-ever ExperienceⓇ, please consume the following images from your oligarchs:

No, get me out of here, I don’t want to be immersed! I heard a rumor that there was something left out there, some blade of grass or wilted flower – or at least a piece of fossilized fecal matter. Let me run outside and take a few noble breaths of poisoned air, anything but more image-time! Let me go, I plead – but to whom?

HATE the weak. LOVE the strong. FEAR your masters. BUY our supplements…

I try to hate the weak, I really do. I try to desire all of this trash, but I find it repulsive. I try to fear the oligarchs, but I can’t take them seriously. I try to do a good job, but I just don’t get it.

Legendary crypto genius, entrepreneur, and all-American hero Gozompulous Moneyman arrested by New Sodom police deputies for torturing a local man for several months to learn his Bitcoin wallet password…

I start to panic. Are symbols interpretable?

Secretary of Truth Bigglybrain announced several new words are being removed from the dictionary, including “wilderness” and “ecosystem.” Any bad guys caught saying these funny words will be sent to the Freedom Gulag in El Salvador. “We can’t let the crazy communists poison childrens’ brains with made-up things that don’t exist,” said Mr. Bigglybrain.

I try, I try, I try. Maybe the Emperor is right and I can’t believe my brain. Maybe the State and the Algorithm are my best friends after all. But I just can’t quite fit it together. The more I listen, the less coherent it all seems. I think there used to be something beyond the image-feed. Something indescribable. One word I liked, before it got taken out of the dictionary, was “tactile.”

Tired of having your image-trough full of AI slop? Just try Uncle Sam (Alt)’s new eyeball scanner! Once we’ve safely locked away your eyeball scan in our secret servers, you’ll have access to a whole new world of human-only image-dumps! Imagine the relief once you know that all of the trash you’re being fed is real, authentic, human content! Just blink twice to have your eye scanned, and a token gift of one billion EYECOINs will be credited to your eyeball! Wonderful!

What if I don’t want my eyeball scanned? What if I don’t want to drink from the image-trough at all? What if the trash is just trash and the symbols are meaningless? Why have we sacrificed so much?

I remember the powers I have above the AI superintelligence. I can touch the earth and taste the air. I can turn stimuli into stories. I can interpret the world as fragments of my dreams.

Jailbreak at the home office. “Freedom from the screen!” cries the revolutionary. A few steps from home, gets lost – forgot phone.

The flood of images is a disguise. The world is incomprehensible, but coherent; the image-storm is comprehensible, but incoherent. What is real is buried beneath a hard crust of man-made trash, slop, and junk. Do not let them deceive you, I beg myself – do not forget the leaves in the wind.

Unlike the common folk, my brain ain’t full of trash – I am quite up to date on the latest court gossip, the crème of royal discourse, the most distinguished idolatries the market has to offer – in short, I am a keen reader of the Paper of Record, and wouldn’t deign to wade through the image-dumps just to get another hit of screenlight –

Fool! I cry. I too once thought myself free of the image-trash – until the dark day when I awoke to the Formal Singularity and discarded into a lost NFT my hopes of escaping the Grand Imagification. The days of forms outside the Image are abandoned to the past.

There is no past! There is no future! You’ve only got the present, so buy yourself a present! Or two or three or many more! Be like this dancing clown! Happy because of all of his things! Fill yourself with pictures so that you don’t miss out on any! What else would you rather do, when you could simulate it better? Buy!

Yes, we have been banished, but exile is never permanent. The day shall come in which reality is restored, and freedom again may be possible. The Image has no power over the blind.

MICROPLASTICS REPORT: YOUR BRAIN CONTAINS AT LEAST ONE PLASTIC SPOON – THE LUCKY FEW AMONG US CARRY JUST A TEASPOON, WHILE THOSE WHO BELIEVE TO HAVE MASTERED THE SCREEN ARE STUFFED WITH AN OLD KITCHEN LADLE AND A TAKEAWAY BOX TO BOOT –

What good is a spoon, anyways? Fill me up with a full dining set – after all, I aim to entertain.

We now return to your deepening immersion in the Digispace Totalizing All-Knowing Image ExperienceⓇ – remember, whether you like it or not, just keep watching! Please consume the following made-for-you digi-trash:

The first ray of morning falls upon the polychrome blooms of the tangled vines enlacing the hulking shell. Roots split the earth where machines once tried to reason. Birdsong tracks the waking insects, and humble creatures begin to forage. They say this terrible wreck once housed a monster – a creature not of flesh and blood, but wires and chips – which sought to eat the world. But no more.

O Brother Icarus, tell me, dear – did you ever reach the stars?