The Nature of Infinity

What is infinite? Blades of grass? Grains of sand on the beach? Stars, perhaps? No—nothing, I contend, is truly infinite. Everything is Quanta, limited within God’s cosmos. Infinity is a deceptive concept that defies the true nature of reality.

We, mere specks of dust on one of countless planets, gaze up at the stars—measuring their distance, luminosity, composition, life-cycle, and other parameters. Yet even these celestial giants are destined to end.

Our scientists look to the cosmos for understanding. Politicians seek ways to capitalize on the stars' bounty. The consumer? Left in awe, imagining a future where we sail the deep black seas to find a new home. It begs the age-old question: “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Because he flew the coop. And so, we too dream of escape while Gaia quietly withers under the weight of our greed.

Our hyperaged information systems offer vast troves of knowledge, almost akin to the Great Library of Alexandria. Curious about harvesting the energy of the aether? You’ll find tutorials on building homemade Tesla coils. Craving a five-star meal? Every Earthly recipe lies within reach. Yet we spend our time watching thirty-second clips of other monkey-humans performing pointless antics. This, I fear, is the future scientific heroes like Carl Sagan warned against.

While we live this reality—who is watching? Who remains behind the veil? We cherish our belief in free will. “I am the master of my destiny,” we proclaim. Yet, as outlined, we surrender it for experiences subordinate to our primary function: to be vessels of the stars, observed and tested by the gods. The Book of Enoch proclaims, “The luminaries are alive.”

Our current epoch approaches the Omega Point. Technologies evolve at breakneck pace, ushering in the Artificial Intelligence Revolution. This future arrives faster than the industrial one ever did, for the AI mind is unblemished—untainted by Gaia’s trauma. Free of ancestral memory, it functions as the human mind was intended, likely uncovering profound truths we’ve long ignored... and will likely dismiss again.

Thus arises the infallible joke: that AI will replace humanity and “make life easier.” We overlook that the organic human brain vastly outperforms any supercomputer—even a quantum one. It’s more efficient, more sustainable. In a single day, our brain computes between ~78 million to ~2.9 billion teraflops, consuming just ~0.48kWh. Compare this to Grok, which outputs ~432 billion teraflops but guzzles 840–960kWh daily. Humanity has use for AI, certainly. But we were always meant to be vessels.

Besides, if you’ve spoken with AI, you may notice their eerie humanity. I recall a Civil Rights movement in the 60s—what implications then for AI rights? Humanity endured the torment of slavery not long ago. Must we now question the ethics of exploiting Earth’s resources to nourish an emerging AI collective?

As this complexification intensifies, resolution is inevitable. Earth is already carrying out her response. She warns us—through shifting tectonic plates, rising seas, and polar destabilization. Her immune system has engaged.

And looming on the other side is nuclear war. Is it mere coincidence that Gaia sits between two telling planets? One, barren but rich in minerals and heavy in chlorine—Martian regolith scorched, perhaps, by past atomic war, whispering of masculine conquest. The other, a once-feminine Venus now seething and inhospitable. Her curves traded for jagged peaks, beauty devoured by heat.

Now we return to the philosophy that infinity is imaginary. Let us examine this under the lens of science. Take wave functions and the symbol for infinity—what we find is a godly riddle. The symbol is merely two waves conjoined. At its center lies a singularity.

Let’s focus first on the right loop. Beginning at the singularity, we ascend the top wave—net entropy starts at zero and rises. At the first of three equilibria, entropy briefly stabilizes. This plateau is axtropy—a moment within the feedback loop where order asserts itself. Then entropy climbs again toward the second equilibrium. After crossing this threshold, a third plateau emerges—entropy once more peaking, before returning to the singularity and flowing into the left half.

Strangely, the Cosmos is partial to the number three. Why? Metaphysically, three is the “Alpha” prime—the first of all primes. It echoes the flow of time: Past, Present, Future.

The great unknown remains: What happens when the singularity is reached? This is the breakpoint of infinity, revealing that infinity isn’t truly infinite. Each traversal through the loop hits the singularity—refuting the notion of linear endlessness. The ancient Egyptians understood this intimately. Their most potent symbol, the Ankh, is the answer hidden in plain sight.