For those independently proceeding forward with my works, know that there is no turning back from the disillusionment that may unfold, for the analysis of this chess game we exist in is quite an elaborate one. “Vanishing Point” is a series for the unseen ones who have chosen to take the elevator, in an honest pursuit of cold truth, without being confined to the annuls of Modern Science™
“When we speak of man, we have a conception of humanity as a whole, and before applying scientific methods to the investigation of his movement we must accept this as a physical fact. But can anyone doubt today that all the millions of individuals and all the innumerable types and characters constitute an entity, a unit? Though free to think and act, we are held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. These ties cannot be seen, but we can feel them. I cut myself in the finger, and it pains me: this finger is a part of me. I see a friend hurt, and it hurts me, too: my friend and I are one. And now I see stricken down an enemy, a lump of matter which, of all the lumps of matter in the universe, I care least for, and it still grieves me. Does this not prove that each of us is only part of a whole?”
—Nikola Tesla: The Problem of Increasing Human Energy with Special References to the Harnessing of the Sun’s Energy (June 1900)
Here is Chapter 1:
Chapter 2
A freshly paved asphalt parking lot paints itself around another unmemorable camouflaged cube hidden in plain sight by a nameless highway exit during rush hour traffic commutes; most never ask what this is, nor care. Each morning upon entry, automatic doors hiss open after a ding sound green-lights permission by way of an aesthetically placed futuristic badge scanner, approving entry for ID-tagged experts who have been routinely arriving to work. Rapid oscillations of fluorescent lighting flickers in long hallways that snakes along the fulfilled blueprint interior of a climate-controlled metatronic grid of this stark and brutalist corporate efficiency. Constituents are heavily rewarded salaried paychecks that have been passively grafted by the relentless acts of taxation siphoned out from the general public, a step apart from watching lunch money fall out of the loose pockets of an upside down child, hoisted above playground mulch by a greedy 8th grader. Age differences render the small robbery into a clean success for the perpetual bully, as superior upper body strength awards him more pathologically justified means of economic survival against this robbed child. Laboratory rooms are laced with indescribably expensive pieces of hyper-sophisticated science equipment, all decisively sectioned off for the various working minds who have been tactfully walled up into their respective specialty fields; what these specialists all have in common is they were bent to a degree by academic institutions, thus forcing these piece of paper wielding scientists to stay in their lanes without any cross contamination of ideas among others who exist just down the hallway.
White collar marionettes gain vetted access to this materialist environment in order to stringently work inside of this cold-walled church of performative machine worship in order to silently sing the hymns of digitized and artificial experiments within the societal control groups of mysteriously and authoritatively peer-reviewed realms of indescribable isolation. Misuses of witchcraft unfold as a dead philosophy with applied ideas that surround the experimentally-absent-science of soulless corporations. This twisting of the method then crafts itself into an actuated secret religion that hides in plain sight off some highway, where vetted employees are heavily paid off by the delicate techniques of income tax automation. Public trust is on autopilot beyond the realms of consent to payment, as this scheme sieves dividends to a most meticulous cult of scientists, unconsciously synchronized for sake of protecting that which remains unspoken.
A subconscious exploration of a scientist echoes to itself:
“Today was another day of working hard, sorting documents and conducting various experiments at the laboratory.”
“You see, the world rests on the shoulders of hard working scientists in their respective specialty fields in order to make sure the world that we live on indeed continues to properly rotate and revolve amidst the wake and riptide of gravitational pull by a constantly outward moving star that we call the Sun. It is important for us to empirically construct computer simulations of these massive phenomena so that we can calculate the probability of catastrophic astronomical circumstances. With our work, we can stay ahead of nature and provide a safety net for the survival of the human race, as we shift closer and closer toward a Type 1 civilization.”
“Various threats to humanity must be solved inside of sterile laboratory settings in order to help prevent future viral outbreaks of pathogenic disease.”
“Worldwide catastrophes could come in the form of any invasive species that could suddenly arrive here from the vast unknown, whether they be microbiological or if we need to precisely nuke an asteroid into oblivion before it is to come crashing down onto us. We can prevent this.”
“The dinosaurs did not have science on their side, because they could not conduct science like we can today, so it is obvious that they took no precaution towards inventing nuclear weapons in order to fight their own asteroid that led to the demise of their species… We now know that that the bones of dinosaurs still continue to be radioactive from an invasive asteroid that completely wiped them out into extinction. Best not to touch the bones.”
“I don’t expect anyone who is not a scientist, a virologist, an astrophysicist or a paleontologist to understand the importance of what we could be dealing with here. Why bother with those who do not know what they’re talking about?”
“Right now, we are dealing with global warming, and if science is not to innovate quickly enough, or if we were to somehow lose our government funding, we could be looking at the extinction of mankind.”
“Innovation, medicine, genetic sequencing, computer models, chemistry, man walking on the moon, and so on… All of this is how we can ensure that science continues to allow our world to exist in a stable state of homeostasis as it makes another lap around the sun this year.”
“This week, a full sequence of computer code were placed together in order to help simulate another complex experiment, but the numbers are lining up perfectly to our hypothesis.”
“The amount of science that’s been done inside of this room is truly incomprehensible to the average person. It’s not really worth explaining to someone, as it would be very similar to a scientist speaking directly to a lab rat. I mean, take a look at some of the things we like to work on.”
“It’s time to punch out for the day, hit the pub and just loosen up a little. Just a quick couple of brews on my way home after all this important work we’ve been doing. After all, I deserve it.”
“The cutting edge of science”
To The Pub…
It’s a dimly lit room with a vintage ambience and the sound of bar glasses being washed, with the creaking sound of wooden floors being paced upon. Cordial conversations are sporadically hyperbolic and audibly animate with light bursts of chatter, while what’s observed is assorted dark burgundy furniture, green velvet siding on the walls. The glow of soft lamps illuminate the commons, laced with wooden tabletops of leisurely chess matches. At one table, two men arrange pieces to set up for a new game. The white pieces are set to a smiling gentleman who is surrounded by friends and acquaintances. Ambivalent upon arrival, the man playing the black pieces just got off a busy day of work at a laboratory. A Rolex watch implies to the others that he sits well with money, and it’s known that he gets paid to do extensive research projects. He likes to come out to this bar to straighten out his Rolex watch and be seen in this aesthetic environment.
The gentleman playing the white pieces opens with pawn to e4, which is a common, but strong opening. As pawn e5 returns from the off duty scientist playing the black pieces, the penumbra around the table becomes a humorous conversation directing a collective focus towards a hardback National Geographic book sitting on a shelf nearby.
The entire night has been a series of clashing glasses and laughter. Observably, one sees an image and reacts to it based on lived experiences, and varying degrees of exposition.
White bishop to c4 as white inquires to the ones near the table, “Dude, get a load of this. So have y’all actually seen the Apollo 17 lunar liftoff? Who was the guy that was left behind on the moon who would pan the camera up as a means to capture the entire liftoff?” A nearby patron overhears and cups two hands over his mouth and provides a goofy impression, “PCHKKKT PCHKKKT; we’re on our way, Houston!” His friends all laugh hysterically about it, while the scientist grows disturbingly uncomfortable.
Black plays pawn to d5, threatening pawn e4 and the bishop on c4, while writhing around a bit, not laughing, and not playing along with the snowball of humor that is clearly avalanching inside of his mind: “It is my scientific duty to defend what is so extremely obvious, because these stupid peasants cannot degrade one of mankind’s greatest achievements. I know there are satellites in orbit, and I know for a fact that we landed on the moon. It has all been proven already.”
White’s pawn takes on d5, mirrored by a quick response of knight f6 from black. As pawn d3 comes out, white inquires to the scientist playing black, “Well pal, what do you think is really going on?" Black plays bishop c5, white knight to f3, and then black castles kingside, while murmuring to white and his friends, “What do I think, eh? I think that you all just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
White plays bishop g5, pinning the knight to the queen, as white attempts to revive the vibes of the evening, while creating a peace offering out of one of the books in his bag: “Well pal, go check out the Apollo 17 liftoff later for yourself because this is what my friends and I have been talking about this week! The claims are ridiculous, and the footage is hilarious, we can’t stop watching this shit show unfold! Maybe you just haven’t seen the footage more closely, but it might be wise to check it out and see if it makes any sense to you.”
Black responds with a hasty pawn h6, threatening white’s dark-square bishop, and states, “Of course it makes fucking sense, and I don’t need to look at shit to prove that we went to the moon. I am a hard working scientist, and I already know we went to the moon, and we are going to go again. Science is something that can be trusted, verified, and proven right.” Leaning in, shoulders forward, “You see, I would know, I have a degree where I spent years of my life studying these things. Things you wouldn’t understand, considering you probably do not have a degree in empirical science. Carry on and keep splitting hairs with your fickle unscientific bullshit.” Bishop takes on h6, where black responds by pawn taking white’s bishop on h6, opening up a hole in the pawn structure, for white to attack the king.
White to h3, accelerating development, and the introduction of the first chapter of the book is being read aloud, with the most sophisticated opponent scratching at the inside of black’s mind with a prying splinter: “The longer you listen, the sweeter the pitch. Don’t let them fool you.”
Nearby, the gentleman playing white spills the guts of the claims by showing the claims for everyone to see.
Black responds with an infuriating black bishop taking the pawn on h3. A clear blunder. White takes bishop with rook on h3, and continues splaying out clippings onto the table.
Black is making guesses at this point, dark bishop takes pawn on f2, check. White king takes bishop on f2, while a friend opened up the National Geographic book, and lays it out on a nearby table: “Behold, the final frontier!”… and the gentlemen laugh.
Black responds with knight g4, check, and white’s king retreats, while black wastes a move with pawn c6. Black’s backrank is gridlocked and constricted by its own design. Three pawns imprison an underdeveloped knight and a constricted rook: “That photo you are showing should be absolutely stunning evidence to show to anyone out there the curvature of the Earth, and what objectively happens whenever floating around in the vacuum of space. What are you guys going to do next, go all out with the ‘fake moon landing’ angle of bullshit, or what?! Always the same shit with you people, and there’s actually no point in anyone debating you.”
White’s knight takes pawn h6, check forcing the black king to move closer to the knight, but also an alternative option for a narrow escape outside his one remaining pawn.
White rook checks black king from g3, black takes white’s knight sacrifice on h6. The magazine continues unfolding by a friend nearby speaking and emphasizing contentious parts of dialogue with heavy hitting sarcasm: “Get a load of this, dude. This is further irrefutable evidence that these people have for sure been to space. Why would they lie about landing on the moon? So what, NASA lost the information, technology and coordinates for landing on the moon, these things totally just happen, am I right? I mean look at these pictures! The science is freakin’ settled, my guy. These pictures could never be faked!” The aches of authentic laughter grows out of control but the splinter grows deeper for the scientist who spent all day at work.
That inner voice talks to black, “Don’t let them play head games with you, they’re all doing this to throw your game. They’re a part of this game, and they’re in on it. Trying to undermine you in front of everyone else. Remember that this enemy is an external one. They’re the reason you’re trapped here playing this silly, meaningless game. Does this game even matter? All of what’s become will eventually evaporate in the heat of a supernova, and history erased by a solar flare thanks to the jokes these enemies make of themselves. They all spew disinformation from untrustworthy sources to one another, and it’s all a massive con to undermine your life’s work. What if other people catch on to what they’re saying? That must be stopped, because the fragile future of humanity rests on this very moment. Stand up for the future, you can be the one. Do it. It’s time to draw attention away from them, and reclaim it immediately. Your life depends on it. Your career, and all the time you spent. How else could you be remembered for your remarkable works one day? You won’t gain the chance if you don’t act now. Take action, and protect your investment.”
Black stands up furiously, flips the table over, and with it, the entire chessboard is hurled violently in the air. Pieces fly all around, and generate clattering sounds of entropy onto the hardwood floor. The game completely de-materializes as if none of the moves ever mattered whatsoever. The scientist will do anything to remove this splinter from his mind. A disgraceful projection ensues, “Get out of my head, fool. There’s no time for mind games. Get the hell out of my head, you don’t know shit about fuck,” while swatting at thin air like a disgraceful child having his ball taken away. The crowd surrounding the bar, all become immediately disinterested in the games played, perspiring beverages, or any of the jokes or stories told to one another. The situation shifts their collective attention toward the splinter-brained scientist who is now throwing chess pieces around in an emptied room.
From this lamplit room of former pleasantries, the story to be told of this night will be remembered in gossip about black’s erratic behavior amidst a peaceful setting of enjoyable drinks and some jovial games of chess: “There is no point to this game. There is no point in me being here. One day we will all become stardust, or get sucked into a black hole. We shall go the way of the dinosaur when the next meteor hits us. There is no time for debating this issue any further! The science IS IN FACT settled. Fucking I AM a scientist, and you will RESPECT ME! Do you know how many YEARS I put into this? I will not contend with your MIND GAMES. You didn’t put in the TIME and HOURS I did in order to know what I know.”
Years, indeed.
“Eventually, when the opponent is challenged or questioned… Means the victim’s investment, and thus his intelligence is questioned.
No one can accept that… Not even to themselves.”
And you… Yes, I’m talking to you! As you read this… Were you somehow wondering how you could possibly connect with or even resonate with the meandering novelized exposition of my written out chess moves between these unnamed characters? Without the visual assistance of a chessboard, video of the chessboard, or any metaphorical visual queues to help assist the points being made about them, where is the most truthful tension to be felt? It’s arguably absent, however this is a brief metaphor for the state of conversations surrounding these scientific topics today, for the dominating ideas of the 20th century are being conquered and rendered obsolete by comedic intuition. The men in this chapter have no names nor a backstory, for they are mostly a “Black” and a “White”, representing the dualistic checkerboard pattern that performs pendulum swinging opposite motions of dialectical tension upon the fictional players at the bar.
The game would otherwise be so tense if it was amplified with artistic value, videography, sound design, except the text of its moves aren’t tense at all due to its lack of facility. The chess moves have been reduced to words, which acts as a gatekeeper for nearly anyone, with exception given to elite chess grandmasters equipped with photographic memories, who have been trained to play chess blindfolded. Most people do not fall into this category, obscuring the tension of the chess game apart from the general public who may be reading along.
This is a metaphorical exercise for gatekeeping and smoke-screening what’s measurably objective and lowering its resolution into something ambiguously frustrating to decipher.
The game has already dematerialized all over the floor, and you might be wondering why you’ve been brought here to read something like this… By throwing the chess pieces around, was that a forfeit? Does it all read kind of like a densely worded peer-reviewed science paper, that for some unspoken reason, fails to display its purported experiment and fails to be transparent of its contents by endlessly berating the reader with a completely indigestible language?
It will list out some materialist word salad in an authoritatively rhetorical fashion and arrogantly expect you to keep up. But as you were reading the chess moves in this chapter, ask yourself if you somehow had the entire chess board envisioned in your head. You didn’t. But as you were reading, did you pull out a chess board yourself, and try the moves out for yourself, to see if you could connect to the material a little better? Or did you want to find faults in the layout, to find out if the moves being made in the paragraphs were breaking the rules of chess?
You didn’t. So, here we are.
Famous for being both blind and deaf and gaining intelligence via braille hand techniques, Helen Keller spoke in a British accent in front of an audience:
“Inz a zwan blanzd e mis, naga blen mish, dap blueroni maga caca otherin. Ent iz di etleiode dat hand palmed lens if dar ven en this edible is really starting to kick leeeeeh. Nah imabledably, adaban ho una twirly wood el maid hagbengden beflangenit hag onomenowe aplangalang mow a chewy gooey spæesh. Mael, abagandudün tarrow hmalngit hadya ongo aaannnnuuuhhhgh, undu splat londy loodo forreri screap. Unawhaha twi ag splen dydink a biba, korran kwal ban du bolk, anz emtipin aplasty an oaf.”
Are we here? How do you know that?
During a Science Friday interview aired on National Public Radio, filmmaker Werner Herzog stated:
“Our place in the universe… Well, it is here, and that's the place we have, and nothing else; everything else is unfriendly. We cannot flee from our planet, I mean, go to any other planet in the solar system; it's just not inviting. The next star out there is only four and a half light years away, but with the fastest speed we can ever reach… So far, it would take a hundred and ten thousand years just to go there. Hundreds and hundreds of generations, they wouldn't even know where they were going. There would be incest and madness and murder and whatever en route… So, it's not pleasant to move.”
-Ira James Rogers
End of Chapter 2
A preview of Chapter 3:
“Six feet. Stay at home. Save lives. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. 15 days to slow the spread. It’s proven safe and effective. Children can have heart attacks too. Peer reviewed data cannot lie.”
The problem reveals itself with clues laced out in the words themselves, where we hear talk of “scientific theory” as opposed to “conclusion” or “experiment”. In order to unravel nefarious motives which produce pseudo-scientific trash, what necessitates questioning are the ideological presuppositions lurking in the conspiratorial minds of benefactors who wave flags for a broadly-accepted Modern Science™. Artificial science substitutes mere insistence and deadened empty space in place of experiment. Without any substance to experiment, that absence itself is what is due for questioning. The reliance upon computer models, trusting experts in respective specialty fields, and overriding ones own ability to test these experiments for themselves is exactly what shifts the fields of science into the territories of pseudoscience, or scientism. When a popular astrophysicist such as Neil DeGrasse Tyson is openly insisting that the 5 senses (sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing) are not useful data collectors for one to conduct science for themselves, we must begin to ask what it is he could be helping hide from our 5 senses.
During a lecture, astrophysicist Neil DeGrasse Tyson said:
“One of the lowest forms of evidence is eyewitness testimony. Which is odd because it’s one of the highest forms of evidence in the court of law, which disturbs me greatly.
If you come from a lab to a science conference and say, ‘This is true’…
…We say, ‘How do you know this?’
‘Because I saw it.’
That’s really the end of your talk, and you just leave…
And then we say, ‘Come back when you have a chart recorder, to just give me something that does not have to flow through your senses.’
…Because your senses is some of the worst data-taking devices that exist, and science did not achieve maturity until we had instruments that either extended our senses or replaced them.”
“The Formula has infinite depth in it’s efficacy and application, but it is staggeringly simple, and completely consistent.”
This article is chapter 2 of my book, soon to be released in physical form.
Vanishing Point: Section I (eBook)
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