The Absurdity Test

Those previous εxρεяιмεηтs sought to remove symbols from the subject. But by removing the 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 from the semiotic chain we can break the cycle. Remove the white noise of constant association and analysis which represents the largest portion of mental activity. We’re not removing the symbols, we’re breaking their chains. Inflating the symbols with contradictory values until they вurst, or at least become too ғℓαввү and ˢˡᵘᵍᵍᶦˢʰ to work in a regular capacity.

When you make the world truly ƛƁƧƲƦƊ then you will isolate the individual.

Consider 𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, as a broad entity. Symbolic of power, good sense. Wisdom. But all kinds of other symbols may be packed within this broader one — it’s not hard, they won’t even be ones that haven’t been associated before. ₵ØⱤⱤɄ₱₮łØ₦. ᖴOOᒪIᔕᕼᑎEᔕᔕ. HubᏒᎥs. A lust for power to realise one’s own ends.

We can pack these things in more and more and more until it will seem — from the ∂ґεαღεґ’s perspective — that the entire apparatus of power is not just populated with 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝-𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕, 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕤 but that all the safeguards supposed to keep them out are in fact protecting them, and that no matter how much they nor everyone else votes and protests and 𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙𝖘 for change or for justice as they shall get 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖊.

Like sᏟᏒᎬᎪmᎥᏁᎶ at a castle wall.

Imagine the 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 of science. In an age of information people will stubbornly insist on the world being ᖴᒪᗩT, or the magical properties of 𝑜𝒾𝓁𝓈, or a boorish insistence that medicine is somehow harmful or a mechanism of control. Passion for cнεαρ, sнσ∂∂ү cαυsεs, delivered by obvious cнαяℓαтαηs with apparent ɠlɛɛ, an almost ironic wink.

Can you imagine it?

An army of computers generating 𝒶𝓇𝓉 and 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 to free up time to spend in a cubicle. The lowest of common denominators becoming the 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖, then ṙ̻e͎̫̻͕͒͒̑̃̊͟f̝͓͇̰̋͋̂͝ĭ̢̜͝n͕̰̳̏͝͡e͎̫̻͕͒͒̑̃̊͟d͇̹͎͖́͐̀͠, then the 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤. Marketing replacing art. Bu乙乙words replacing humanity.

The same mistakes made, ǫ̵͠ṽ̸̭e̷͈̿r̴͍͋ and ǫ̷̮̦̂͘v̵̢̖͔̈́͋̚e̷̤̣̖͠r̵̻̔̑ and ö̴͈͎͖̰́̓̃̔͒͂̾̊ṿ̴͈̳͍̝̺̗̮̎̈́͆͋̀͆͘͜ë̴͕̮̼̱̠̤̺̠̝́̌̇̉̋́̂͒͜͠ŕ̷̟̬̗͕̲͈̟̫̠̣̳̰̬̳̻̣̞̤̑̊̆̈́̑͗̋̒́͂̇͒͆͛͋͛͠.

The dreamer powerless to stop or even alter any of it in any 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗳𝘂𝗹 way. All they could do is put their head down and grimly continue in an steadily-more ʙᴇᴡɪʟᴅᴇrɪɴɢ world.

The structures of the world torn down and rebuilt from the rubble a̸̹̔̾͜g̸͕̦͛͂a̵͖͚̾i̵̧̿̓n̶͍̝͊ and a̶̪̪͍̙̍̄͌̃g̸̖͋͊͝a̵̞̪͍͛ͅȉ̴̟n̶̨̹̭̼͐̑, more shoddily each time, until you are left in an unidentifiable wrєckαgє of everything you thought you knew, and then — then, we will be able to meet the ᏒᎬᎪᏞ ᎽᎾu. The true self, the ᏟᎾᏒᎬ of your consciousness, would break free of its constraints and float to the surface of that тυяgι∂ αη∂ мιsвεgσттεη sεα.

And then — finally — we would know what a person is when they are shorn of the world around them.