Sara Lily

kikuri

the thing about prophecy, about foreknowledge, about anticipation, is that it's a terrible curse to even try. it's a terrible curse to have and not be able to communicate—your classic cassandra. it's a terrible curse to read the correct signs incorrectly—to only know in hindsight that you had all the right clues to hypothetically decipher the right answer, but failed to live up to the task. it's a terrible curse to just be wrong, to be certain you had the right signs and the right reading—only for reality to veer in another direction. to be instilled with the inconsistency of doubt, and then to miss the next signs that you could've read if you just had faith.

but the thing that makes it particularly terrible, I think, is that some days you anticipate the world or other people perfectly, and it's like the world sings in beautiful harmony for a moment. the right place at the right time, in advance of when it's needed. you can accomplish this with mundane means, too—which gives you a taste for precognition, for witnessing a grand design, for the possibility that the world could always taste like that. and what do you do with it? turn it to the service of capital. thus the future is written

tech workers whenever a tech solution to a societal problem inevitably collapses: ah! it is time for a new tech solution to replace the old one

i love you all so much. you will never do computers good enough to solve capitalism tho