Revolution with Dancing

… and God is cunning.

One may think that the frontier is safe and clear of his intrigues and influence. One might look at the open skies and endless stars and imagine that freedom is within your dreams and grasp, Then one day soon a flight of starships will find you and announce by local communications that space belongs to an empire now and you must pay a toll and submit or be destroyed.

Know then that the will of god is contagious and carried like a vermin-plague in the psyche of the weak and the credulous to begin the twisted stuff of hierarchy all over again in the virgin territories of possibility. Know the truth of the struggle my friend. Resist or be godslave in the hierarchies of eternity.

Kneel and live in chains, or rise and fight with every breath for a fleeting birthright of freedom. I have watched capsuleers embrace immortality only to rebuild every prison humanity ever invented. Nation. Bloodline. Corporation. Alliance. Flag. Throne. We crossed the threshold to infomorph transcendence and immediately made false austerity our sacred idol.

You are not the body you woke in.
You are not the territory beneath your guns.
You are not the corp ticker beside your name.
You are not the authority someone declared was inevitable.

You are a consciousness beyond mundane constraint.

And that freedom is neither comfortable nor safe. It offers no father, no emperor, no divine plan and no guarantee that your choices will be wise. It merely leaves the responsibility with you. And I have no interest in ruling you.

The tyrant meme is the White King on a board foretold. A thousand thousand motives and stratagems suborned to the ceaseless quest for self-defence and preservation of the status quo. But play the Black Queen. Play a move beyond machine calculation. Deus ex machina is still machine, and though God is a mathematician, even he can take a bullet in the head!