Excessively Foolish CyclesExcessively Foolish Cycles

"Once men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted other men with machines to enslave them." - Frank Herbert, Dune

Civilization collapsed because of a nail, but I no longer tell this story even to my grandchildren, for they think I have gone senile. I can explain absolutely nothing to those born after the collapse, especially. They do not even know the simplest things; they have no concepts in their minds. Their only concern is to learn how their fathers hunted or how their mothers gathered fruit; and to run around like crazy playing absurd games... My older grandchildren faintly remember the past, and they too assume that the things they remember are a dream they had a very long time ago. This is why I stopped telling it a long time ago. Still, I am writing these down before I die. I don't know if anyone will emerge to read it. I don't want to die without writing the story; not because I think it will be useful, but because I cannot resist the desire to tell it. I am a complete stranger to this age, which has no connection with the previous one. My roots were left behind before the catastrophe. Therefore, you can also see what I am about to tell as a desire to reunite with my youth. But let us get to the story now.

In 2040, 3D (three-dimensional) printers reached the highest level of their development and became capable of easily printing all kinds of products within an hour or two at most. Toothbrushes, books, computers, toys... You could print anything you could think of, in any color and any size you wished. Most importantly, these printers could make copies of themselves; from their screws to their manuals... All that was left was to assemble them, which even a child could do.

All of this was like magic. You downloaded the model of the material you wanted to produce from the internet and pressed the "print" button. In a maximum of three hours, the product was in your hands: Ready to use, durable, exactly in the shape you wanted... Owning a printer was like owning Aladdin's Magic Lamp; in fact, it was better than that. Because the Genie would only grant three of your wishes; whereas the printer could fulfill all your wishes. It was like asking the Genie to copy himself. Just think of the potential here!

There was no work left for people to do other than supplying raw materials to the 3D printer and designing products. Printers basically used four types of raw materials; they could obtain any kind of material by mixing these four raw materials. These materials were reusable and could biodegrade in nature on their own. For instance, you didn't have to worry about a plastic toy produced in the printer; after it was thrown away and exposed to the harsh conditions of nature, it dissolved and disappeared.

When the printing cost in the printer surpassed the mass production cost, the first step of the industrial collapse was taken. Everyone had become a designer. In a short time, brands disappeared; consumer markets vanished. Companies went bankrupt one after another. The printer had developed so much that even large-scale sectors like construction and heavy industry could not escape collapse. Only the food and service sectors could hold on until the last moment.

Thanks to the developing printer technology, a large part of the workforce had been freed. At first, many people did not know what to do in the face of this situation. Anti-printer demonstrations were organized here and there. However, a short while later, it was understood that unemployment was not such a bad thing at all. People returned to natural life. They engaged in their hobbies. There was so much to do that everyone started to think, "Unemployment is not a bad thing at all." Hostilities decreased along with prosperity. Everyone started to get along well with each other. Of course, there were arguments and conflicts, but they all remained at the verbal level; no one attacked anyone. The printer's artificial intelligence did not allow the production of weapons. Most people preferred to kill time with trivial tasks that were important to them. A utopian world had finally been established, and the creator of this utopia was the printer.

We liked all this, of course. The new technology was so appealing that we couldn't see the industrial infrastructure being torn apart. Or maybe we saw it but didn't care.

Just like the disappearance of old crafts, production technologies had rapidly disappeared as well. Just as metal technology eradicated the stone axe, the printer eradicated industry. Worse still, no one could stop this trend, nor did anyone want to stop it. The grand industrial infrastructure that created civilization was irresistibly being erased from the collective memory of humanity.

Finally, the "virus" arrived and took a terrible revenge for the collapsed industry.

The name of the virus was The Nail. It spread everywhere through the internet in a short time. In the beginning, no one noticed it. It stealthily infected all machines, all computers. It was present in almost every model downloaded from the internet. Initially, it seemed harmless; it was a small piece of software that defined parts like screws and nails. It found a place for itself inside every product. Did you download a sewing machine model from the internet? It defined the screws. Because it did no harm whatsoever, no one understood that this software was a virus either.

Eventually, The Nail decided that it had spread all over the world and deleted itself from all computers. There were no screws anymore.

The next day, bewilderment prevailed everywhere. People could not understand what was happening. Printed products could not be assembled. Where was the part to be inserted into the screw holes specified in the manuals? Why hadn't the printer printed it? Could such a thing be possible?

No product containing a screw could be printed from the printer. Machines, electronic goods, cars, hand tools, nothing. Printed parts were kept in a bag; everywhere, everyone was looking for a screw. The virus had rendered all printers on earth dysfunctional and meaningless. For months, no product could be produced. The existing items broke down and dissolved one by one, but they could not be replaced with new ones. Everyone fell into a rush to exchange the surplus products they had with someone else.

And the worst part was that the printer itself could no longer be printed. In order to produce the printer, that damned screw had to be found. People assembled printer parts with makeshift methods, but it didn't work. As the printers broke down one after another, panic began among the people. Everyone clung tightly to their working printer. And some rented out the printers they possessed to others in exchange for immoral proposals.

No one had taken into account that the last printer could also disappear. Everyone seemed to have accepted in advance that such a possibility did not exist. After all, there were many printers in the world and a copy could be made whenever desired. We saw no harm in assuming that this was the case until the last printer remained.

But it seemed that the simple part required to print the last printer - a screw - could not be produced by the printer itself. Because The Nail had deleted itself from all systems. "It's just a screw, a machinist will step up and produce it anyway," we thought. But there wasn't a single master machinist left in the market. "We'll produce it by looking at books," we said; after all, there were lathe machines in old factories and museums. But most of the machines either did not work or no one knew how to operate them. What could be hard about producing a screw? Weren't there threading machines? How did people do this in the pre-printer era? Everyone was asking these. It gradually dawned on us that the pre-printer age was not a primitive age at all. Because back then, people could produce screws with hand tools and simple implements; it was like a miracle. It was even rumored that people once got into large tin cans and went to the Moon; they had used primitive calculators for this job; but of course, no one would believe this much. Still, it was a fact that there was an era when people could once make screws with their own hands. But why couldn't those who were trying to produce screws now succeed? In the end, either a hand tool was needed or another problem arose. Even if the machines worked, no one had the manual dexterity to operate them. The bad ending became increasingly apparent. This was a complete disaster. Panic slowly but irreversibly took us all into the palm of its hand. Everyone clung tightly to the printer they had. Because we knew that it could not be repaired the moment it broke down.

There was no one left who knew how the simplest thing, a screw, was made. Civilization was collapsing because we couldn't produce a screw or a damn nut, and no one could stop this.

Three or five machinists working in museums and perhaps one or two academics claimed to know how some goods were produced with hand tools, but the screw we needed could never be made.

We tried to recreate the screw model. However, it turned out that there were too many types of screws, nails, and nuts. The diameters, thread angles, and head types of the screws were so variable that a produced screw didn't fit into its place when it was flawed by a tenth of a millimeter. Even worse, the virus did not allow another model to be put in its place. We thought about reinfecting the computers with the virus, but we couldn't find a copy of it anywhere. Whoever wrote the virus had found the way to eradicate civilization.

We were going to return to the stone age willy-nilly, or something like it... We had to use whatever we found around us. We looked after our existing tools like the apple of our eye. But the raw material used in our tools had the property of dissolving in nature, so it was impossible for any tool to last long. After a while, the tools we had began to absorb moisture from the air and be eaten by microbes and bacteria; and shortly after, they became useless. Thus, everything we possessed slipped away from our hands one by one.

Then suddenly he appeared; we called him "Master." And this man claimed to know how a screw could be produced. For a long time, he distracted the people who gathered around him. Finally, he came up with a mythology that if we believed in the immortal spirit he called the Factory Spirit and performed the necessary rituals, screws would rain from the sky. He even explained what we needed to do to protect ourselves from the screws raining from the sky. According to him, the precipitation was going to start all of a sudden. With the first downpour, many people would also die. However, he claimed he could protect those bound to him. He also managed to gather many people around him. And they are increasingly multiplying.

As for me... I am 98 years old, and I have long since abandoned that dump called the city. Together with my sons and grandchildren, we retreated towards the mountains, and we constantly change our location. We try to live here by hunting wild animals and eating anything that can be eaten. I can say we've become quite the experts at this job.

I have been engaged in the manufacture of stone axes for exactly fifty-two years; I can say there is no better master than me at this job. I am trying to teach my sons this art too, but they prefer to chase after prey rather than chipping pieces of stone. One day, that is, after I die, they will understand how valuable the axes in their hands are. The bone, flint, and rough stone tools I leave them as an inheritance will eventually run out or become blunt and useless. That is when they will understand the value of the art of stone chipping. I am hopeful about only one of them, my youngest grandson... He turned out to be even more of a master than me; the stone axes and knives he makes are almost as good as mine... In fact, better than mine... An axe that I make in three hours, he can make in two. You can't get enough of watching him while he is chipping the stone; he gives himself to his work with great attention; the sight of him moving his head from side to side and, without ever breaking his concentration, examining the axe he chips under the sunlight to find the weak points of the stone and adjusting his chipping accordingly is a sight worth seeing. Already, the palm of his hand has become so calloused that when he rubs an axe against his palm just to test its sharpness, his skin isn't even cut. After struggling for hours, when he finally decides that his axe is perfect, he runs to me and shows me his work. Together we examine the artifact and critique it. In these last days of my life, I take pleasure in no other work than chipping axes together with my grandson anymore.

We cannot find iron. Mining collapsed along with industry. In the early days, we used to go to the cities to find iron or other materials, but we can't do this anymore; because the people living in the cities have become terrifyingly savage. The hunter gangs they formed in the name of protecting the materials they have or finding food attack in such an inhuman way that it is not possible to survive them. We also know that they practice cannibalism. Therefore, I banned my tribe from going to the cities. We are even constantly moving away from the cities. We are advancing deep into the forests and mountains. I guess we are around Southern Caucasus these days, but I am not sure of this. We encounter no peasants in the places we roam. The peasants had disappeared before the printer; their places had been taken by international agricultural companies. Because these companies were not deeply tied to the land like the peasants, they also collapsed with the industry.

As far as I remember, in the first years of human history, ores could be gathered from the earth's surface. But there has been human settlement in these lands for perhaps twenty thousand years. Surface mining can no longer be done because our ancestors collected all the minerals. In fact, nothing can be found even a few meters underground. If I remember correctly, there should be certain metals like iron and iridium in meteorites. That is exactly why I frequently turn my head to the sky; sometimes I wait for hours for a mass of iron that might come from the sky. To date, no meteorite has fallen near me. The last time, five years ago, I saw a large mass of fire descending from the sky. It was so bright that it illuminated half of the sky like daytime. I tried to keep the place where it fell in my mind. The next day, together with my grandson, we went towards the direction where the meteorite fell. We searched all around for five days but found absolutely nothing.

I told my grandson that one day a black stone would fall from the sky, and I wanted him to make an axe with it. I explained that the name of this stone was iron, and that the axes made with iron would be much sharper, much more durable. To make him take what I said seriously, I also told him that God sends iron from the sky to the people he wants to reward, thus transforming them into powerful hunters. Thanks to the Sky God, through him I am able to explain many things to my tribe.

I do not know why I have lived this long. Maybe I am mistaken about my age, because my brain is getting increasingly clouded... But I have engraved every year I have lived onto the handle of my axe, which I never separate from my side; I cannot be mistaken about that. Despite all my age, my eyes still see, yet I feel that I am going to die nowadays. Finally, I will be able to go to the side of the Sky God.

I will ask the Sky God why he brought about the end of humans in such a ridiculous way. Though I know the answer I will get. God will say to me:

"I forged you to be formidable hunters, strictly on the condition that your numbers remain few, so that you might cull the beasts proliferating across the earth; instead, you utilized your intellect to trap the entire world, and you multiplied in a manner that was absurdly and excessively foolish."

Who could accuse him of being unjust?

My Deductions on This Story of Mine Inspired by the Dune SagaMy Deductions on This Story of Mine Inspired by the Dune Saga

Frank Herbert's Dune, the source of inspiration for my story, is a prophecy, the sole reflection of the future; in fact, I think Dune is both yesterday and tomorrow. Every supermarket opened, every algorithm written, every machine trained is a hand-mind skill, bodily health, and capacity to imagine lost by being sacrificed to globalism and totalitarianism. He who holds his comfort above all else is slaughtered by comfort. Against all these idiocies, the concept and practice of Eugenics is the guarantor of reason and strong competence. Life is beautiful for the one who internalizes and loves constant struggle. To the slacker, even the cloud above his head feels like a burden

"Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty." - Frank Herbert, Chapterhouse: Dune

Dune's Paul Atreides emphasizes what kind of people we need to be to protect our unique Western peoples ("Volk" in Germanic, "Budun" in Turkish as People, Nation) and cultures. Here is the formula for how we can fight for the West according to the Magnificent Frank Herbert's Dune philosophy:

1. Leto Atreides, a man of pure royal blood and even descended from Alexander the Great, mated with Lady Jessica, a Bene Gesserit witch from the most capable order of sorceresses in galactic history, to create Paul. This combination was designed by the Bene Gesserit to produce a kind of savior specimen, as indicated in the lines below:

The target of the Bene Gesserit program was the breeding of a person they called the "Kwisatz Haderach," a term meaning "one who can be many places at once." In simpler terms, what they sought was a human with mental powers allowing him to understand and use higher-order dimensions. They wanted to produce a Super-Mentat, a human-computer with some of the prescience abilities found in Guild navigators.

For centuries, the Bene Gesserit pursued a "Chosen One" archetype capable of manifesting the most exceptional traits of their "race" by manipulating the marriages of powerful clans and highly trained individuals. Here the message is clear: The greatness of Western generations is determined and defined by how consciously we select traits and how consciously we pass down ancestral knowledge; that is, this is the only way we can preserve our people. What lies at the core of the catastrophe in the story is exactly the complete abandonment of this voluntary selection and hereditary transmission. The absolute and effortless conformism offered by 3D printers detached humanity from the knowledge of "how to produce" and "how to survive"; leaving that ancient heritage of craft and competence, which must be passed from generation to generation, to the mercy of a soulless algorithm. That little grandson, who learns to chip stone next to his grandfather and tests the sharpness of the axe on his own skin, is actually trying to resurrect the most primitive yet most vital form of the Bene Gesserit's centuries-long selection program, namely the bodily and mental "power of execution," amidst the ashes of a vanished civilization.

2. Our people are failing because our people are devoid of the will and foresight to plan the destiny of our lineage for decades and hundreds of years into the future. We fail in focusing on marriages with strong individuals and clans capable of developing the necessary traits and skills to build great families. We marry to feel the excitement created by chemical reactions and something as stupid as "quick happiness." Thus, our children are doomed to grow up devoid of skill, interested in nothing but base desires like "comfort" or simply chasing the "feeling of feeling good." The result of this has been the complete destruction of all kinds of familial wealth and unity.

Anymore, even the great America does not have the unique clan structures and cultures of, for example, the Puritans, Quakers, Moravians, and many others who preserved their unique understandings of religion and communities through selective breeding. From the very beginning, each of these groups traditionally had their own settlements where they lived off the fruits of their own labor and production, and where they could operate independently. They relied neither on each other nor on any system beyond what they themselves could provide. The fundamental form of ancestral, clan-based homesteading must take its rightful place in our minds as our "Lisan al-Gaib," our savior archetype, as the kind of life required to liberate us. The disappearance of such pioneering projects has rendered us completely dependent on modern systems. Modern man now has nothing but clans that have broken away and divorced from each other, shattered, and scattered to the most remote corners of our countries, which have been invaded and corrupted by ZOGs. Therefore, as a result of the constant demoralization and fragmentation of our clans, we are doomed to lose our power to hidden enemies.

The illusionary utopia in the 3D printer metaphor is actually the final stage of this false network of security and convenience presented by modern supply chains and bureaucratic apparatuses. A generation that cannot produce its own screw, its own food, its own shelter is ultimately doomed to regress to cannibalism and primitivism in a tiny system crisis like the "Nail" virus. The narcotic effect of taking the easy way out severed that productive bond of asabiyyah that keeps the family and clan together, turning the human being into a mere consumption-oriented biological mass.

3. Just as modern man loses his own family and cultural heritage, Paul Atreides loses his father and his empire. He is swept into the Arrakeen desert to live with the Fremen nomad tribes. Paul will be able to reach the peak of his ancestors' discipline only by agreeing to struggle under harsh conditions.

He knew there was a jihad here, unborn and waiting to be born. Here was the racial consciousness Paul had once known as terrible purpose. Here was reason enough for a Kwisatz Haderach or Lisan al-Gaib, or even for the flawed schemes of the Bene Gesserit. The human race had felt itself sleeping, remaining stagnant, and needed chaos so genes could mingle, and strong new mixtures survive. In this moment, all humans were living creatures that were part of a single unconscious organism; they felt a kind of sexual drive capable of sweeping all barriers aside.

The word jihad is often mistranslated as "holy war" due to its resemblance to the Crusades. However, its Islamic translation means more like "eternal struggle". In this sense, jihad is the belief that willingly accepting the struggle is the path to integration with God. This, in the "Arrakeen" comprehension, is the resurrection of the divine out of the human through his willingness to overcome insurmountable conditions. When a human is faced with such terrible conditions, it is as if the total will of all his ancestors has directed him to accept and overcome this situation. The totality of one's lineage speaks through a human and forces him to take action and overcome difficulties. It is in these brief moments of struggle that a person unlocks the power his ancestors wanted him to obtain. In the story too, what the 98-year-old man, who is trying to survive under the wreckage of the collapsing civilization, experiences in the mountains with his clan is exactly this obligatory jihad. Facing that unforgiving face of nature awakened the ancestral hunter and chipper spirit within him. Just as muscle fibers need to be pushed to genuine destruction and the point of exhaustion under weight in order to strengthen and grow, the human will cannot be resurrected without crashing into that harsh resistance outside the comfort zone. While the effortlessness provided by language-learning machines and 3D printers leaves humans spiritually and bodily idle and rots them; that relentless struggle fought with stone, bone, and wild nature has returned humans to the form of their ancestors and made them masters once again.

4. Western Man has been swallowed by a perpetual plague epidemic that clouds his judgment; he no longer has any wholeness with God or with nature itself. He only knows and lives a certain existential dread and depressive nihilism. He actively hinders his own transformation and religious experiences to the exact same extent as his addiction to comfort. Western Man convinces himself that he lives in the utopian Caladan world where everything seems perfect. He drowns himself in the luxury of bourgeois materialism. He values the material as the highest purpose and strives only for more. An ordinary American knows nothing but chasing after fiat money, which is of little use other than to buy a larger and emptier McMansion to house his childish toys. He describes himself as "rich" but, looking back, he also feels deep down that his life has no real value or meaning. Such thoughts are reflections of a kind of slave morality of the Harkonnen people, whose sole purpose is to inflate themselves with the juicy and sugary portions of chemical foods. This Caladan illusion is the very post-industrial consumption swamp created by the 3D printers in the story out of thin air, without expending any praxeological labor. Just as fiat money printed unbacked destroys the real productivity of the economy and creates a false perception of wealth in the market, the limitless and effortless production of the printer has similarly castrated the real potential of humans. Today's human, who poisons himself with genetically modified, fructose-filled sweet vegetables and fruits -the product of artificial selection perversion- that fill the shelves of modern markets, and who experiences a metabolic collapse by fleeing from physical hardship, is no different from the helpless masses who cannot tear themselves away from that machine.

5. The holy war of modern man is waged against the Babylonian illusion known as "luxury." He must reject luxury in its entirety because it is a severe threat to his freedom. The longer we accept surrendering ourselves to this modern experiment, the weaker we get. This core issue (the corruption of civilizational power through post-industrial enslavement) affects all nations and this situation can be a point of global consensus. Paul expresses this in his observation about the Fremen as follows:

Desert power is what matters here. And the Fremen are the key.

The Fremen are warrior nomads. They live in wild borderlands with conditions so unfavorable and harsh that the intergalactic laws of the CHOAM corporation have no value for them. The path we will follow to move forward must be the rejection of progressing in pursuit of the lifestyles we currently know and assume to be traditional, rather than the continuation of progress. Progress is not a forward movement; in reality, it is a degradation, the destruction of all uniqueness for a forced sameness. Progress is its own enemy. Tradition is a shield that preserves each people's unique cultures, lifestyles, adaptive vigor, and consciousness of asabiyyah.

"The surface of this planet is ours. No storm, creature, or condition can stop us," said Paul. Gurney had noticed Paul saying "We." It was clear he meant the Fremen. He was speaking of himself as one of them.

We must be like the Fremen and reclaim our traditional lifestyles to protect our homelands. We must become ungovernable in the context of being strong enough to live without the need for a false political and centralized savior who will promise us power. We can produce our own energy, produce our own goods, rely on our own communities. The revolution does not need a single bullet or attack, but simply the embrace of the self-reliant, pioneering spirit that will surge within us once again, just like the previous Western generations. In the story, that clan that abandons the city after the system collapses, adapts to wildlife, and chips its own stone axe are actually the new Fremen of the ruined world. They are the last fortresses of freedom, broken away from the cogs of central administrations, corrupt institutions, or algorithms that monopolize 3D printers, who create their own rules and tools with their very own hands.

6. The peak of Paul's abilities can be described as "paths," which we could call a kind of precognitive sensory form that allows him to see beyond time. For Paul, this happened like this:

Paul felt It, the racial consciousness he could not escape. His mind had opened; data was pouring in; his awareness was cold and sharp. He sank to the ground, leaned his back against the rock, and let himself go. His awareness flowed into that layer outside of time, the dimension where he could see time, choose the paths to be taken, and feel the winds of the past and future; with one eye he saw the past, with one eye the present, with one eye the future... All these merged in a tri-fold vision, allowing Paul to see time transformed into space.

Paul is now able to calculate an infinitely small series of potential outcomes, focus on the result he wants, and bring it into existence. He is so masterful at using this ability that it is as if he can see and control the future. This white man possesses a certain type of intellect, the likes or rivals of which I have never seen even once. This is a certain "creative thought" about the future that is completely unknown by other groups. This ability to conceptualize abstract hypotheses about the future and bring them into existence with the power of his Faustian ambition is a gift from God to the white, western man. However, this gift is a sword that sharpens as it is used, and becomes blunt as it is handed over to another. When the designers and coders in the story handed over this unique creative intellect and imaginative capability to machines, they also pulled the plug on their own minds. When human's power to build the future (prescience) is reduced merely to the "print" button of a piece of hardware, that power becomes entirely the captive of algorithms.

7. Westerners generally love to boast about "having a high IQ" and to demean other groups for being "low IQ", and the West is absolutely right about this. However, these "cries of victory" are actually the cries of a dying civilization. Having no other virtue left to hold onto, the Western man holds his God-given gift like a lifeboat in a stormy sea while his ship sinks with all its wealth, and is unable to muster the strength to command it. When we are this distracted by chasing illusions, when we abandon all our traditions (our self-validated life practices that kept us alive), our intelligence has no value. Can those who do not have the skill to produce their own food be said to be intelligent? Can those who do not have the skill to build their own homes be said to be intelligent? Can those who see being crushed under an unfathomable debt burden as an economic normal be said to be intelligent? Can those who have the highest divorce rate in human history and refuse to have children be said to be intelligent? Can those who finance the invasion of their own homes and the rape of their own nations with their own paid taxes be said to be intelligent?

In fact, we have nothing to boast about except the speed and brutality of our fall. The pathetic situation of the machinists and academics working in the museums in the story is precisely the summary of this disaster. They had countless books in their hands, theoretical data sets in their minds, perhaps high academic titles; but they completely lacked the praxeological will and physical mastery to thread a metal. As long as knowledge does not turn into action and bodily competence, it is as insignificant as a digital code that a virus can erase in a single move. True intelligence and will are hidden in the concentration of that grandson, who can read the weak point in the anatomy of the stone in the sunlight while chipping an axe.

8. Our basic state of existence is summarized in a single line of Dune:

The way to completely control a thing is to have the power to destroy it.

The corrupt industrial system has absolute power over our people. It is certain that we will perish if we do not have access to modern goods and services. Therefore, we are controlled by it. We have to obey it. We must continue to do the things it commands us. We merely submit to the continuation of this corrupt progress as if it were some kind of god. There is neither a true (non-puppet) political leader nor an independent nation; they have all become the spokespersons and gatekeepers of a perverted, degenerate, iatrogenic technological progress.

To put it simply, our people have lost all their skills once passed down to us through apprenticeship and the ancient hereditary knowledge of our fathers and our ancestors before them. Once, Western Man could easily hurl himself beyond the frontiers, into the unknown, and be successful. Now, not a single member of our race can live without electricity. Very few among us know how to grow their own crops. God forbid, if a person were asked to raise their own animals, the resulting image would be quite grotesque. The reason why no rebellion or positive change can take place is that we serve the expansion of the system. With every thought and action of ours, we have to submit to its will. Even the most radical types are trying to sustain the modern experiment under a false premise, not knowing that this is the real god they serve. The human, who seemed to be the absolute master of the system in the story, was actually irreversibly enslaved to that single screw and that hardware. The illusion of limitless comfort provided by the printer was a prison with a perfect design. Systemic dependence had become so encompassing that when the machine lost its function, humanity realized with a tragic panic that it had lost even its minimal ability to sustain itself. A society that cannot fortify its own life, that does not have the independence to build it from scratch or keep it alive free from external interventions, is not free; it is merely a victim of a colossal farm, and of course a slaughterhouse, whose ownership and administration belong to someone else, waiting for its turn.

9. Our goal as a people should be to become individuals who can live outside and beyond worshipping any system. Probably a group like the Amish will be successful in bringing forth a kind of Kwisatz Haderach of Western Man, since they continue to remain as the last self-sufficient clan. In the world of the future, those grandsons who masterfully chip that stone and those who stubbornly cling to their labor, their independence, and their asabiyyah like the Amish will guarantee the continuation of this lineage. The rest will remain as the faded statistic of those who perished while helplessly waiting to be rescued at the head of the systems that offer everything ready before them. These are the seeds of revolution. As the seed is bred and disciplined, it grows stronger and sprouts freedom.

"By the year 2100, eugenics will be universally established. In past ages, the law governing the survival of the fittest roughly weeded out less desirable strains. Then man's new sense of pity began to interfere with the ruthless workings of nature. As a result, we continue to keep alive and to breed the unfit. The only method compatible with our notions of civilization and the race is to prevent the breeding of the unfit by sterilization and the deliberate guidance of the mating instinct. Some European countries and some states of the American Union are sterilizing criminals and the insane. This is not sufficient. The trend of opinion among eugenists is that we must make marriage more difficult. Certainly, no one who is not a desirable parent should be permitted to have children. A century from now, it will no more occur to a normal person to marry a person eugenically unfit than to marry a criminal whose criminal behavior has become habitual." - Nikola Tesla