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A primer for all others.

Far behind you are the high grey colored walls, walls that make up the vast rim of the dreaded desert called the Death Valley.

Travelling steadfastly through the burning hell for the last few weeks had physically drained you badly, and especially so when dealing with the mindful will-o’-the-wisps forcefully invading your dreams, to then sow their seeds of weariness doubt and depression.

But now that was all in the past.

The pleasant wet mangroves of the Dark Forest that you’ve just easily walked through (though), hasn’t helped you break out of your continuing darkening depression: amplified all the more after realizing the warm welcome that you found last night in the bustling thriving village, was nothing more than an elaborate honey trap; constructed eons ago to stop the appointed explorers of God from completing their quest, and you had almost succumbed to their many charms and promises of wealth, but even by the logic of them scallops being placed there on the divine path: proved that you were right all along, .. and in the mind of the current vassal of the almighty: the last lingering doubts you experienced over the preceding months were finally beginning to melt away.

What is now in front of the pathfinder, has lifted the wayward wanderers spirits somewhat: because they alone have made it to the pass, which was a phantom door to tertiary adjunct of uni-matrix one, that everyone had told the intrepid explorer wasn’t there, but it was, the Borg Expanse really did exist.

Breathing heavily, you stare in exhaustion at the ice cold desolate snowy expanse laid out in front of you, and the legendary lands goes on as far as the eye can see. 

  • You’re first thought is that you’ll be badly exposed in crossing it.
    • You can stop here: you’ve opened it up for others.
      • You can retire.
  • You’re second thought is that what you’re looking at is beautiful pristine and pure.
    • You can just admire it.
      • And then retire from the game.
  • You’re third thought is that by crossing it, you’ll destroy and sully the calm white place that you alone have discovered.
    • Do you have the right?
      • Retirement is easier.

(You have doubts), then you realize that it’s just self-preservation that’s talking to your inner child’s mind, causing you to make child-like excuses into not crossing the vast plain of deadly purity.

(Its beauty, like your own life: is transient), a fact of life that makes the child’s immature mind slowly withdraw from the harsh domain of kill or be killed, but before it left, the final thought that flashed through your own mind was, (but it’s safe here.)

As an adult considering this warm dark place that you’re currently trapped and cocooned in: you finally realize that it’s stagnant protection is morally corrupt, just like the petulant residence of the village behind you that foolishly tried to stop your quest.

You escaped their clutches, but are now being pursued by the biological Abominations, who are getting closer, and in numbers that can’t be counted. The Manx crabs are closing the distance in on you, and are even now almost snapping at your heels, being captured by the howling demons is not an option: in your current guise as the one true pilgrim of God you could eliminate them all, the power you carried could be used to level an entire village of sinners in the name of the merciful God, but for what? – What would it achieve in the long run: you cannot convert shit to praise the one God, all you can do is ignore the remainder and calculate the odds of dealing with the left overs.

In disgust at dealing with the following octal numeral system of mathematical perversion against ten, and also the remaining morale corruption that inevitably goes with it: you blindly push on, leaving the relative safety that this warm wet place affords. Discomfort and danger is undoubtedly in front of you, but that personal cost of denial is a better price to pay, other than adding to the pollution by even considering staying in the Village of the Damned.

Then you realize in horror at the consequences of that one small step for a woman, was one huge leap for womankind, and then the swarms of feminist opportunists that would undoubtedly follow: adding their own biological and technological distinctiveness to this new verdant and pregnant land that you’re forcefully penetrating.

In this place of the Borg Expanse: you have just broken new ground, because that edge of the tree line was another spatial boundary that you’ve just inadvertently crossed, and like the rest of them that you’ve stumbled into ever since your quest begun all that long time ago, you can’t take it back, but that one was special: it was a counter spell, and you realise to your horror that you’ve just taken sides in the never ending struggle of positive life.

Moving further out from the dark shadows: the Holy Pathfinder found themselves surrounded by the pure light of creation, and it wasn’t the primary reason as to why the ignorant numerical supplicant had started this quest for the Composite Council, it was to prove a negative thesis by reinforcing a decade of precession. 

Pushing ever on into the blinding white haze, the trudging fool realizes in that second of clarity, that the zero point member, (of one), in the prime expedition of many more primes, never really had a choice in the antimatter experiment either.

You personally left the comfort and stagnation of the forest island located in the Death Valley, .. You decided to not kill in the name of God, .. You have chosen not to destroy the world in her glorious righteous name, .. and in your pursuit of pure personal improvement in a mathematical decade, .. You’ve taken sides and are running blindly into the light.

Failure to reach the other side of the Borg Expanse isn’t an option, ..

Failure itself now isn’t an option either: you’ve taken sides, ..

The side of light and destruction, ..

You alone have unwittingly turned your back on the darkness of personal biological comfort, but in taking that moral stance, .. You are now morally opposed to the old world of the Status-Quo.

You’re In The Army Now of change, and can’t simply Roll Over and Lay Down. No longer will you be Living On An Island: and from this point on, you’ll Break The Rules; Again and Again.

Whatever You Want you can have it, you are the Wanderer. You are facing the Wild Side Of Life in the Ice Of The Sun, as you Break The Rules, but quietly wonder if there Is A Better Way.

In the light of a new dawn, you have to get up, you have to start another days work as you move on with the continuation of your own rude life, that you didn’t ask for when you were rudely born into it.

As the holy explorer of God, you are both a creator and destroyer of worlds: your primary reason for life is to now cross that vast deadly ice encrusted Borg Expanse spreading out in front of you.

In your heart of hearts you know that it will lead you to more wonderful opportunities for your listless sisters living back in the Blue Mainland Mountain Range; who will inevitable follow in your primary footsteps into this pure verdant place, but for them to prosper,: then you have to trample and despoil this pristine region in the first place. You, .. like your God, .. are the creator and the destroyer of worlds, but so what? You’ve taken sides.

And still the dark octal Manx things behind call to you: urging you to stay with them, and then revel in the comfort of the Island of Men.

From their vast burgeoning numbers, you realize that none of the Manx Crabs have ever got this far. None of the Islanders have ever realised that in a hot backing desert; that such a cold place could exist, ..

(And yet with the throng standing at the edge, they are still calling you back.)

Their high pitched salient cry’s, loudly declaring your right of personal comfort, forever enshrined into Island law was both an alluring compelling reason for you to stay: all day opening hours was a strong argument as well, but you were the first (come-over) on the RoRo to arrive after hours, .. Your future is now written in the stars, and not in the mud of corruption with the squawking octal Islanders that you’ve left behind.

In any case, .. you can never go back, you’ve taken sides and are a remainer.

You are a primary user, .. a destroyer of white worlds. You *aren’t* a composite of corruption by just being yourself: You are *not* dismissible by others. You are now a pure prime in your own right.

You are a **Mage.

** a magician or learned person.

In your path for personal discovery and glory, you’ve come to the missive page of the Primary Composite Menu: (Explore Sensibly).


Thanks for reading, Jessica: Praise be the ORI.


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