The rebel artist vs. the android

The rebel artist vs. the android

~a short story~

by Jon Rappoport

September 19, 2015

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)

On January 12, 2061, President Winston Smith made a quick campaign stop in the Northeast corridor to address the Coexistence Group in Gates Town.

The Coexistence Group was a remnant of the coalition formed between Monsanto and organic farmers in the state formerly known as New Hampshire.

The President, dressed in a silk rainbow robe, donated to him by the Cosmic Guilders of Carpentry at the Foot of the Most Pleasant Rockefeller Estate, lit a candle at the Memorial of the Drifting Gene, to commemorate the inevitable triumph of genetically modified agriculture in America.

He then gave a short speech, during which he pointed out that all food products in America were now labeled GMO because of the Gene Drift, and although such labeling was redundant, it was “ritualistically correct,” because it signified the right of the consumer to know what he/she was eating.

A supper followed at the Inn of the Bill Melinda. The meal consisted of ceremonial gluten-free organic genetically modified soy-peanut burgers and GM whey cola.

During the supper, a local artist stood up from his seat, toasted the President, and suddenly asked, “What phase of brain programming do you now enjoy, Mr. President?”

A hundred Secret Service agents deployed in the room and at other locations in the Inn immediately drew their weapons. But the President waved them off with a smile.

“It’s all right,” President Smith said. “This citizen has every right to address his Commander-in-Chief.”

The President then offered these off-the cuff remarks:

“Actually, sir, there is no ‘I’ anymore or ‘you.’ There is only ‘we’ because the programming is common to us all, if we volunteer for it. And 67 percent of us do. We are all connected to the same Google/Kurzweil/NSA Plasma Cloud Formation. That, as you probably know, is the artificial superbrain.

“We receive input from it every second of every day. In other words, we are all obtaining correct answers, the same answers, to problems we face.

“Phase Four, which improves connectivity and reception, and takes in expanded subjects of interest and vital concern, is the current application. I, which is to say, we, participate in Phase Four.

“In Four, stress levels are reduced to a nine, on a scale from one to a hundred, where one is the lowest possible stress-count.

“We no longer need to take vacations, except for pilgrimages to sites where monuments celebrate our Nature Is All and Technology Is All and All Is One Everything religious faith.

“And you, sir,” the President continued. “Are you with a Program Phase?”

The artist burst out laughing.

“No, Mr. President. I’m a holdout.”

“Ah,” the President said, “an outlier. Let’s see. Downloading now. Profile. We perceive you’re an artist, your name is Diego Jose Siqueiros. Yes, the information is coming through. You formerly lived in the small city of Ashland in the Northwest corridor, and you received a number of commissions to build structures there.

“After twelve years, you designed and erected so many unique buildings, the city fathers feared that, if left to your own devices, you would ‘take over’ Ashland. In the interest of fairness and sharing, they ceased funding your work. You drifted down to the Los Angeles Complex, where you created a website called Versus the Moron. Eventually, you settled here in the Northeast.”

“That’s right, sir,” the artist said. “A question. Do you remember a time when you weren’t connected to the superbrain in any way?”

The President nodded. “We used to remember such a time, but no longer. Those memories became unproductive. Now we are here With the Program. We operate in it and with it.”

“So you don’t miss being free?” the artist asked.

“Oh, we are free, Mr. Siqueiros. We are free to obtain the right answers through the Program. Having correct data and valid conclusions is quite liberating. The sense of struggle is gone. Struggle is an ancient appendage which technocratic evolution makes extinct.”

“Sir,” the artist said, “I would enjoy debating that point. But I’d rather talk about the individual invention of unprecedented and unpredictable realities.”

“Oh,” the President said. “Another fanciful notion from the past. We’ve discovered that all art and in fact all so-called unique creations of the ‘I’ are delusions. The superbrain can ‘create’ anything. It merely arranges and rearranges data in various configurations. It produces closed systems. For example, it can design a thousand buildings in less than a second.”

The artist frowned.

“No,” he said. “The superbrain spits out random shapes on command. That’s machine-life.”

“Machine-life?” the President said. “I’m receiving mild warnings now. That phrase is an RRT.”

“Meaning what?” the artist said.

“It’s a sub-sub category in the Program. RRT stands for Rebellious Rat Tail. It indicates we are in the presence of a stubborn defective ‘I’ who is scorning the Group.”

“Mr. President,” the artist said. “Were you born of a human mother and father, or are you a virtual artifact of the superbrain?”

The Secret Service agents in the room took a step forward.

The President’s face turned red. He rose from his chair.

“How dare you say that to me!” he shouted.

“Why? Because I’m flipping your cover?”


the matrix revealed


The artist then enunciated a long series of sounds. The declaration came out, as one attendee later put it, like a “gray river.”

“Emwgrtyonefiftyfruntsillgreenefsevenlenstayeightcricrimescene…”

Apparently, it was a code-trigger that had been hacked from the Program. And the code ran.

A loud hum filled the room.

A few seconds later, the President collapsed back into his seat. He flopped around like a doll and then went still. His eyes stared at nothing.

“As I expected,” the artist said. “He’s a four-D printout from the superbrain. An agent.”

A voice came from somewhere inside the President.

“Allen Dulles thirteen A seven branched MKULTRA…”

Silence.

Then a gentle man who manufactured a product called We Love You Organic Monsanto Cherry Vanilla With Roundup Cookies said:

“It’s all right, everybody. There’ll be another President along in a few minutes. I’m sure of it. He’ll appear. We’re all in this together. We’re in coexistence mode. Don’t worry. The superbrain says we’re all One. Unity. The Tao. Yin and Yang. Night and Day. Harmony.”

And the room burst into wild applause.

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

10 comments on “The rebel artist vs. the android

  1. pov says:

    There’s a term that’s been around for a while – “sheeple.” There are many others. So the knowledge that many people are letting themselves be co-opted, programmed, etc is not new. Sure it helps to note that every so often but I think the main thing is to writings that jog something within people who are “on the fence.” To focus on info, ideas, etc that they can use or that can catalyze a return to self-empowerment. Repeating “this sucks” ad infintum doesn’t to me seem helpful, elf-empowering or a path motivated by imagination

    • Joy says:

      Dear pov, Have you considered that until someone is “off the fence,” constant wake-up calls are necessary? The only thing that is truly self-empowering is realizing, as this story helps us do with delightful humor, that “this sucks,” and that none of it is true.

  2. claretempleton says:

    When the means sucks, the end is foreseeable. A wizard once said the more foreign contrived material the body takes in by choice or ignorance, the more the soul becomes confused about its True Self. I sez true of edibles and AI, bioelectrically speaking. Anyway, lovely allegory, Sport.

  3. From Québec says:

    ROTFLMAO!

    You’re so good, Jon. You’re just too much, too funny!

    Here are a few things that really cracked me up:

    – The President, dressed in a silk rainbow robe

    – gluten-free organic genetically modified soy-peanut burgers and GM whey cola.

    – …we are all obtaining correct answers, the same answers, to problems we face.

    -… where you created a website called Versus the Moron. (I really like that one.) Brilliant!

    – RRT stands for Rebellious Rat Tail.

    – Emwgrtyonefiftyfruntsillgreenefsevenlenstayeightcricrimescene…”

    – “He’s a four-D printout from the superbrain. An agent.”

    – Allen Dulles thirteen A seven branched MKULTRA…”

    – Then a gentle man who manufactured a product called We Love You Organic Monsanto Cherry Vanilla With Roundup Cookies said:

  4. Gökmen says:

    I hated the so great pink floyd all my life while lovers and people around me trying to get me into it, asking me “why you don’t like them?”..true, I was listening music from all genres yet I was asking myself “why I can’t stand these guys?”

    Now I know why I hated them, because of their motto “united we stand, divided we fall”
    […]

    • Michael Burns says:

      @ Ğőķměň

      The “Pink” are a religion dudester….I saw them once at Saddledome in Calgary.
      Brilliant artists.

      The first time I heard them…
      A summer weekend…middle of July, I think, 1975.
      I was living in the mountains in a friend’s cabin…no running water, no central heating… no electricity, right by the Bow river it was near Banff Alberta in a tiny little coal-mining town called Canmore. The place was full of hippies.

      I was young and had just met some interesting new people at a gathering of young people. Artists…real artists.

      500 Mikes of orange barrel Lysergic acid diethylamide and after about twenty minutes I felt that I had known everyone at that gathering for an enternity.
      My young friends introduced me to “Pink Floyd” and the “Doors” my world changed forever. We were golden.

      Awakening is to say the least of it. I found heaven that day. And then lost it through my hands like sand.
      I didn’t come down from that orange barrel for two days…it was so clean.
      I ended up becoming friends with the chemist lol.
      I eat a lot of those Littles barrels.
      Can’t find those any more.!

      Pink Floyd…those guys woke a generation to real of it all…don’t condemn them for a line in song G-man

      • Gökmen says:

        I didn’t mean any disrespect to the band or your memories, I’m sorry If I did.

        People I came across who listen to this band were mostly prozac, xanax and other government prescribed drug addicts.

        • Michael Burns says:

          @ Gokmen
          None taken…no apology neccessary. Its not my band; those guys are ancient now anyways…they are all getting long in the tooth.
          I once road up an elevator to the muzak version of “Shine on you crazy Diamond”.
          Its was then I realized that the end is really near…

  5. Joy says:

    Jon, thank you! All the remaining chimera I have unknowingly been trying valiantly to hold together, as the edges have been disappearing, is finally exploding, because I finally found/remembered you. I thought I was missing the key to escaping the Matrix, but now I see it has been in my hand the whole time. No more will I imagine scratching away at the edges of someone else’s “reality,” for I am now intent on imagining my own, and with other like you, to vision a new world into being!

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