there’s always this voice in the back of my head, mumbling words that I don’t quite understand so for years, I've sat, listening; trying to decipher a code lain before me but with all of the noise that’s around me it’s tricky to see the significant things.
what’s important to us now is presented in dully coloured paper with a number and a face that’s screaming:
we are only as happy as our number, we are only as free as our number;
we work for a number,
while they’re dying for their number.
and what’s important to us now is not what we do, or if we smile when we do what we do but the smile we get at the end of the week when our numbers multiply by a ten, or a few;
we are controlled beings, my friends.
we are one in seven billion, artificially intelligent, thinking we know what we know because we know it and not because somebody else decided that they know it;
so listen carefully, my friends because it’s on those cold nights the ones where nothing really feels real that you’ll hear a mumbling voice,
and instead of pushing it away, embrace it;
because what’s important to us now is more important than ever.