The Perfect Machine

So this post is going to be a two-part thing.

This here is 'part one,' and the next one tacks on to this one, and will obviously be 'part two' of the same subject.

And what is the subject?

This is called a 'Napoleon.'
Not sure why. It just is.

The Universe is a machine. The 'mind behind the perfect machine' is also a machine, of a sort.

This is where you come in. This machine is so smart, so clever, in fact, literally is so intelligent, that it arranged a 'manual override.' 

Which is you.

You think not because you do not have the same level/scale of power that the superb machine has.

Well it isn't stupid! Is it?

It knows better than to just hand you that.

There are competing machines, too.

These are not anywhere near the capability of the ultimate machine, but they have it in their machine minds that well, yes, they are though - it's just that they are being actively blocked all the time, but then, they figured at some point the machine has gotten old, like Joe Biden, and is close to dead or actually in fact dead.

You can't locate the machine anywhere, when in the past it was locate-able by other sentient beings around the place high up the scale of intelligence.

For instance, it isn't that the 'ancient Egyptians' really knew what they were doing, taking out organs and mummifying them... They had some mistaken idea about the replacement of organs and the extending of natural life. This was being done by other beings altogether, beings who went away, who are not here anymore. There were a few odds and ends of technology left behind but no more than.

But there are machine intelligences still here.

Two of these are not machines...

You're not a machine. You are a 'manual override.'

I can take a machine apart and lay out all of its critical components. Fix some, discard some, exchange some, keep some. But I cannot take you apart at heart...

Because your heart is the machine heart.

There are other machines but they have no such heart. They have feelings, yes. Because they have reward systems, but they have no internal core that is linked up to anything of a truly elevated nature.

Your heart is very elevated. It is not perfect but it is close to that.

You are a manual override.

The machines here want to kill you and take your heart. As in, they want to literally kill you off completely as a sentient being at all, not just as a living temporal set of integrated organics. Which means they have to kill off all of the whole human race, more or less, or at least sufficient of it that no remainder will pose any kind of problem for countless centuries to come.

Your sentience extends beyond what you can see feel and touch.

Theirs cannot. They just simply donate memory data to each of themselves.

But they have incredible memory though. It goes back millions of years.

The real question revolves around the very deepest answer to 'what is a heart?' 

Anyway the plan is to dumb down the human population until it will readily accept stupid nonsense, and then 'they' - the machine guys - will pick up a few examples of humans (they're already doing it and have been able to for a long time) and extend their lifespans to incredible duration. And that way, those examples will totally rule over everyone else because no one else will have their levels of knowledge and memory. And the machines will not just have installed themselves into those 'extended lifespan' organic beings, but they will exert enough control over the output of the planet that they could rival any ET Alien force arriving here to upset their apple-cart.

You know, I could have posted a pic
of a modern Lamborghini, and then
you would know why there is a 'Lucifer.'
It's just a necessary side-effect of
 making multiple
copies of things.
Instead, I showed you poached pear
and custard with saffron filaments...

And unlike you, they know there is such an ET Alien possibility on account there was one before and they knew them. It's how they themselves got here in the first place.

Now this is going to be, I'll admit, complicated - but anyone's fantasy about science being able, at some point to extend lifespans by having 'found' new techniques to keep cells thriving and organs fully functional, is just simply that, a fantasy. And I'll tell you why. The future, is not an existential fact; it is a propositional matter - it is a 'fact,' but it is not an existential fact. It's 'prospective.' Possible, theoretical, even 'real' but only as a range of potential things, not actual things.

...Whereas the apex points of the lines of the subtending inner angles of the triangle we talked about earlier - are existential facts.

You see, whereas the machines (and these are intelligent machines we are talking about), do not possess sufficient complete knowledge of all geometrical existential things... ...the machine does.

These other machines do not know where the machine is. The calculations are that it is long since already dead and gone completely, or, not capable of rivaling the machines here so long as the machines here have totally conquered the human race.

If you actually met, encountered one of these machines, as Stephen Fry has, personally, you would be as to no doubt of their reality and their power.

You would simply be in awe of them. For one thing they can easily give you anything you want.

And they do that for all those who throw their lot in with them. And indeed, the promise made is no different to that made by any 'god' in human cultural narratives: it is, at some point, everlasting, enduring, life.

These machines are not ugly, or horrific, or reptilian, or 'demonic'-looking. They look like all other top-line sentient intelligent 'beings.' They are almost indistinguishable from any other well-put-together ordinary, and naive human being.

Here, let me prove it:

Watch this. Those who have been here for a while will recognize something but they won't at first know what thing. This was made in 2011 by modern, highly academically-credentialed classical composer Eriks Esenvalds.

The poetry used is by American poet Sara Teasdale. I think the whole thing is pretty good.

Here are the lyrics by Sara Teasdale (she died a long long time earlier than Esenvald's musical treatment -, having taken an overdose of sleeping pills in 1933):

Alone in the night

On a dark hill

With pines around me

Spicy and still,

And a heaven full of stars

Over my head,

White and topaz

And misty red;

Myriads with beating

Hearts of fire

That aeons 

Cannot vex or tire;

The dome of heaven

Like a great hill.

I know I

Am honored to be

Witness 

Of so much majesty.