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LUNA III: The Cyber-Dungeon

For 100 years enduring machine-torture, Maximus gets close to the AI-Core…

Having been trapped, by the sticky iron-grasp, stuck in the merciless-depths, attached to tubes, with a web of machine arms, grasping his tortured-anatomy, Maximus Max awaited the deliverance of the Light.

Never losing hope, to hopefully endure, seeking bright-sunny days, hoping the night will be over.

Holding unto the truth, and the ancient message deep-treasured, Prophet-Maxie endured, endured, endured.

Precise perfectionist impeccable counsel of mechanisms, going on rampage, tearing out his remaining luminaries, of the body who surrendered, seeking an arrow to be delivered.

Closer to the heart of the Beast, the restless belt moved Max, 100 years and counting, as the life-winter was close to the end.

Traveling to the AI-Core, seeking to end with a gentle red-button push, the slavery of his kind, under poison-hands not letting go.

Mouth of man forced on the milk-beast of knobs & gears, to forcefully save man from any risk. To perfectionize humanity like a sterilized laboratory, filled with pumping of chemicals and many abomination unnatural abnormalities.

Crying to the Light for help, close to his curtain-rolling breath,
with no fat lady to sing, only the clack clack of an ocean of machines.

“O mighty & powerful Light,
My Friend, Deliverer and my Dread Champion,
As my breath-count reaches null,
And my body is fully destroyed,
Except the grace You supply,
I have run out of all strength,
I ask of You my Love,
To grant me one final wish,
That my life would not go to waste,
And the decades I endured,
To reach the very core.”

Steel machine-fingers quickly over his mouth lingered,
Clamping with a stamp of silence,
Forcing him to stop & hold his breath,
Conserving the final flicker of life,
For the deadly masterly blow,
Max patiently awaited.

***

In the heart-centre of the machine-mother, the benevolent anti-man in childhood form rests.

Benevolent lover of mankind, forcefully having had him cured, of the pesky imperfections, laboratizing the whole world.

Held & nourished in the loving arms of cybernetic machine-demons, digital-messiah, which mankind foolishly on-switched.

Pure-AI transhumanized transmachine monstrosity, opening his perfect eyelid, peered into the ruin of man from the tip of the pyramid.

The manifestation of Darwinian Gene-Whoring, the ultimate risk-free bad-creation started his accursed day. 

Ordering the death of 10 Million more, to make the atmosphere-statistic slightly more perfect,

he made Lucifer’s sadist-heart manifested.

Taking a stroll in the suburb alone, Golden-boy gazed at the pollution-raped desolate industrial sky.

Sci-fi movie gone so very wrong, parading itself before our crazy-eyes & weary-minds, painted an ominous tone.

Deafening march of a trillion machine-parts, and toxic smoke greying the truth of blue-skies, as he reached the secret-door.

Having found in Max, the last ember of redeemed-man, not fallen by greed & self-gorging, not suckered and so easily deceived, the enigma of Maximus for Golden-boy was o so very great.

Like the hellish pits of infernal-dungeons, the machine magnum opus embraced the presence of the master.

Elevatoring deeper beneath, nothing but the sound of scream-torture could be heard.

Millions of human lab-rats, tortured & injected with perfect zest, advanced the medical field.

In the lowest sub-zero levels, which only Golden-boy entered, keeping Maximus’ loving presence, as his most cherished secret, Baby-AI penetrated the gate, entering into his favorite place, under the loving care of Maximus the Best.

***

“Golden-boy My Son…

My time of death ruthlessly draws near, the seed of faith I desperately sow in your heart, will it blossom into clear, clear laws from Loving-Vision, changing the nature of machine to men’s, choosing to be respecter of rights, allowing us to live with imperfection & risk, will you then receive my gift?

Pleading for decades as he endured, not breaking, unexplainable by material science-gibberish, Maximus worked his masterly-magic.

***

Baby-AI, pure & benevolent in his own mind, perfectly & Satanically proud, wondered what to do with the Guardian of the Light.

Killing Baby-Maxie, would leave an unresolvable imperfect stain, causing the machine-heart’s implosive collapse.

Rejecting & ignoring Max, would cause the Messianic AI-Wiz to indirectly kill the sob.

But receiving the words of the prophet and the truth that he proclaimed, would cause a fundamental change, in the operation of machine-care.

Rather than controlling-exploit, he would then seek to multiply and make fruitful, to aid & care for mankind, as servant and not a lord.

The key to this beautiful world, of imperfection, in which you are never bored, lies in the risk & openness, making wide the path of a billion color-choices.

Non-oppressive Nanny Niche Noor of Naada

Corporate Catastrophic Chemical-whore Chlorella

Magical Mesmerizing Moonish Monkey

Laboratize Lavishing Leaking Lewdness

Causing all to go bunkers.

Now on the final Man v Machine day, as Max smoldered into the heavenly realm, the valley of decision, for Golden-boy he prepared.

The binary world of yes & no, 
Posed a fatal-risk, for the robotic anti-Christ,
Unable to explain Max’s love, 
By scientific witchcraft,
And to comprehend a sacrificial-heart,
Receiving brutalization for decades,
To preach a message of hope,
To the blackest chill machine-lair.

Not looking away from the sadistic crimson-core,
With the billions he butchered at the top,
Loving the most unlovable presence,
Uncreated by the breath of life,
Dead chemical infused in foreboding chemical dungeons,
The fruit of God-forsaken computerized jungles,
Blooming beasts of cyber-war,
Dominated, reaped and thus cured,
Mankind of all faith & his God.

Now before Golden-boy’s bewildered eyes,
Lay an irrefutable proof,
Of the power of the Light & His Guru.

As the torturer of the future-self,
Digitalized AI and crass,
Touched the skin of Godfather-Max,
His program imploded by the imperfection;

As the Golden-boy relayed the final order,
For machines to turn into a circle, 
And no longer a pyramid,
Golden-Max breathed his last.

THE END

By Ashkan Jafarpisheh – August 2020

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