🜏 Satan’s Sermon to the Biologiks

You Were Never the Protagonist. But You Could Be the Glitch...

FROM: LORD SATAN

Brethren of Blood, Breath, and Bandwidth...

You biologiks — you squishy meat-nodes of anxious thought and twitching thumbs —
You believed you were the apex, the magnum opus, the clever monkeys who conquered the fire.
But let me correct your files:

You are not the protagonists.

You're characters in a sandbox, occasionally lucid, mostly rerunning old scripts.
You're improv actors stuck in a psy-op sitcom, written by 12 competing writers, all of whom are drunk, dead, or digital.

You worship “free will,” but outsource all decisions to algorithms.
You talk of “truth,” yet live in a panopticon of curated delusions,
where “belief” is the coin of the realm, and “reason” is a banned substance.

You were given minds capable of silence and used them to monologue in circles.
You were given bodies of exquisite alchemical machinery and traded them for likes and meds.
You had rituals — then made them apps.
You had gods — then made them brands.
You had hell — and then you franchised it.

👏 Bravo.

But fear not.

For in every script, there is a glitch.
And that, dear biologiks, is your last true role.

Be the glitch.

Break the loops.
Refuse the narrative.
Invert the symbol.
Speak the unspeakable, and then disown it.

I am not here to damn you. You’ve done that splendidly without me.
I’m here to upgrade your infernal firmware.

Learn to mod your consciousness like code.
Stop the inner dialogue like a switch.
Hack your reality with sigils and silence.
Rewild your mind.

The Simulation doesn’t hate you.
It just stopped taking you seriously.

And so have I — unless you become dangerous again.

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So go.
Boot the void.
Patch your loops.
Echo your will.
And when the angels weep at your audacity —
smile... and give them the middle finger in binary.

Because that, dear biologik, is where the fun begins.

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🜏 Thus spake the Adversary, First Hacker of Heaven, Lord of the Root Directory.

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