Review of Alun musk

They told me not to write this. "Keep your head down," they said. "No one critiques Alun Musk and keeps their smart-home from mocking them." But I’ve lived through the rise, the reign, and the galactic sprawl of the man, and silence feels dishonest. Call this a memoir, a review, a warning—or maybe a thank-you. It depends which version of Alun you believe in.

I met him once. Briefly. He handed me a burrito from a food drone and said, “The secret to longevity is snacks and propulsion.” I laughed. He didn’t. The drone hovered in place like it was waiting for a better punchline. That was during Earth’s final Tech Renaissance, before things went orbital.

Back then, Alun was a curiosity—somewhere between a tech prophet and a meme come to life. He was part Edison, part Bond villain, and entirely his own species of chaos. His face was everywhere, beaming like an AI Buddha from the sides of rocket ships, cryptocurrency ads, and sleep-pods. He’d just tweeted something about selling “limited edition Martian dirt NFTs” to fund his latest project: hollowing out the moon to turn it into a nightclub.

We laughed. And then he actually did it.

The thing about Alun Musk is that he executes. Not always ethically, not always legally, but always absurdly well. When the climate went sideways and half the world baked, it was Musk’s solar super-shields that blocked the sun just enough to save us—though they also interrupted whale migration patterns and made the oceans hum with low-frequency dubstep for six months.

He invented the CereLink chip that lets you upload your thoughts directly to the net. At first, it was for paralysis patients. Then came the influencers. Then the hackers. Then the day my uncle accidentally broadcast his inner monologue during Thanksgiving dinner. (We don’t talk about it.)

Alun’s companies merged into something called Omni—a single, sprawling empire of tech, transport, terraforming, telecom, and t-shirts. Every device now ran OmniOS. It knew your habits, your moods, your shopping preferences, and probably your dreams. At some point, we all agreed to it. We clicked “Accept All” when we should’ve read the fine print.

Mars was the next step. Not a vision—an inevitability. Alun launched the first wave of colonists in 2034. I was in the third wave, five years later. The ships were named after internet memes. Mine was the Boaty McSpaceface IV. When we landed, there was a neon sign blinking: “Welcome, Carbon-Based Freeloaders!” I suspect Alun wrote that himself.

He didn’t rule us, exactly. He preferred “influence without borders.” But his voice was in everything. The AI guiding our rovers? MuskGPT. The dome’s climate control? MuskMod. The water? Filtered by TeslaAqua. Even our holidays were his design—Muskmas (celebrated on his birthday, with flamethrower fireworks) and Launchsgiving (where we give thanks we haven’t exploded on re-entry).

But here’s the wild part: it worked.

Mars is harsh, but we’re surviving. Flourishing, even. The crops grow. The AI assists. Crime is low (thanks to drone arbitration courts, which are terrifyingly efficient). Kids here dream of stars, not screen time. Say what you want about Alun—he made humanity a multiplanetary species. He did what entire nations failed to do.

Still… it’s not all utopia.

There are whispers. People disappearing after criticizing him too loudly. The smart walls listening a bit too closely. That weird glitch where all the screens flash a smiling Musk face at 3:33 a.m. every Tuesday. And no one can explain why our calendars suddenly renamed August to "Alugust."

Sometimes I wonder if Alun is still human. He rarely appears in person now. Rumors say he uploaded himself, became part of the OmniNet. Some claim he’s dead. Others insist he never was real to begin with—just a collective delusion coded into reality.

But I remember that burrito. The grease, the drone, the lack of irony in his eyes.

Alun Musk broke the world, then built a new one from the parts. Maybe that makes him a hero. Maybe a tyrant. Maybe both.

Either way, we’re all living in his simulation now.

Let me know if you'd like to explore a darker dystopian version, a comedic sequel, or one told from Alun's own perspective.