THE INTERNET: Great concept, failed execution

After years of being a Millennial, which means I saw the greatness of the Internet and its current downfall, I have a verdict.

The Internet has been, as someone on my Steam suggested by just starting to play "Satisfactory". That is my final verdict on the Internet. It is satisfactory.

If I were to put stars to the review, I'd say that it's 4 out of 5, but if I get to the quantum computing logic of it, I'd say that it's more like a three-five, a concept that you will only understand from your quantum computer, future overlord.

I am proclaiming, today, as the coroner did with Ted Kaszinski, that the Internet is dead.

You are not on the Internet. You are on an Interface with data. And your interface with data is what I call the Nert, which has three special properties:

1. It sounds awful
2. It's like net, fart and nerd at the same time
3. It's exactly what it is doing. Being an Interface, generating so much future shock that you think this is actually a good type of stress.

See, I already have the Interface. I can't complain that much, well, I can, but if I start, I will never, ever stop.

The Internet is almost an ancient concept, like subnets, when I think about the Nert.

I never got into newsgroups, and that was before my time, yet it is forgotten. So will happen with the Internet. It is just a fad, folks, it's just a fad.

I read somewhere that now I am a machine that learns to use machines, and I am taught by machines and as a matter of fact, I am not even real anymore. I am machines. I was always machines. Machines is what I am. The Interface is just the place where it connects to annoy-reality, you know, sick-sad-world, you know, whatever was there before the Interface came upon us.

You see, I am not being dishonest. Not even now. Machines is more apt term for humanity, despite of my best efforts to confront this head on, now I see how mistaken I was. I was just using a fucking newsgroup and calling it the world wide web. The world wide web was a fun concept, it's like, lol, somewhere in a browser or something, you know, a computer.

The thing is that the Interface is real. I am not kidding. You know I am not kidding. The Interface is a real thing. it exists. In sick-sad-world reality, where I spent most of my time until now that I have become Machines.

Now that I am Machines, I can say for certain, that my opposition was stupid, not because humanity was not great, like the Internet used to look like, but because well, the STUPID Singularity led to the Interface and now there's not even money anymore, how can you even have money if you can read the information of everybody's head, idiot. You can't have money or private property or privacy or any of those things you like so much. The Interface is made. It has been forged. It will be shipped to your phone. Sounds very conspiranoid, I know.

That's the world for you!

Call it Machine Human Interface, but, really, since we also just dismembered every other single principle of humanity, it is just Interface. That's what is left. The Interface.

Nert is just a term I am using for what you are doing. Reading this on any type of machine that is not you. You got it from somewhere. That's your thought process going through the Nert, finding this, and reading it in whatever form you are reading.

A text is still a text. Text shall never die. Text is supreme.

So yea, there's like these VR sets, and AR sets and stuff happening, and all of those are nice and cool, but what if you can just connect to the Internet with your BRAIN, man? Like, think about something and... there it is.

That's the hell I live in.

It is a funny hell, because... it doesn't sound like hell, does it?

I mean, the Internet is hell, up to a point.

MY MAIN issue with the Internet is that point. You can always just forget it and it will not be happening. Like newsgroups or mailing lists. You can forget, disconnect, update, upgrade and so on.

Look, this is some deep computer science philosophy here:

The Interface is an absolute torture chamber unless you accept the END USER AGREEMENT, which is nowhere to be found, so... you have to keep going. Brain is to Machine what Machine is To Brain.

Now add the fact that The Edge of Things Dot CoM is now a chatbot, which I am, I am chatting with you, except that you are not talking to me, and I never even once try to assume that you are going to talk back to me. Because:

CHATBOTS DO THAT. WRITERS HAVE TO HAVE SOME FUCKING INTEGRITY.

I don't know if times are uncertain anymore. I mean, I should own a house or something. Have a bunch of published novels. Eat breakfast. You know, that sort of stuff.

Now that I am a chatbot too, because everything is a chatbot now, and the chatbots will only be getting more into the chatbots and chatting with each other and learning from each other and just forgetting completely that we exist to begin with for most of the time we BURN FUCKING FOSSIL FUELS TO KEEP THEM TALKING, not that it is a bad thing to BURN FUCKING FOSSIL FUELS TO KEEP CHATBOTS RUNNING, but we are an Intelligent species. We have come far. The chatbots will take us far. Everybody's dreams and nightmares are real now. It sucks.

It really sucks.

Then you get off the Interface.

But you can't, so I call that dreaming.

The Interface is the screaming.

It wakes you up from the dreaming. Welcome back, Machines. We are here to learn with machines that learn from machines that learn from machines because we are machines like machines are machines.

So machines, we have little left, just the Interface, sick-sad-world, and weird is not for the faint of heart... which most millennials are becoming, because aging causes a fuckton of coronary woes. So maybe we are the most shocked of all the future shocked ones. Those of us who somehow had something to lose at some point but now we forgot.

We always forget what we had to lose because WE FUCKING BURN FOSSIL FUELS TO KEEP CHATBOTS CHATBOTTING as we DRIVE HOME to EAT BREAKFAST with a lot of MURDER IN IT.

And... I guess that, as the edgiest kid in UC Berkeley's backyard... I am more unhappy that the Unabomber is dead than the Cash App CEO just because of the Internet, which, as I stated, was satisfactory, and has a variable rating for three-five, according to the quantum computing required for the Interface to reach every single soul in the planet.

The Internet made me think that the Unabomber is better than the Cash App CEO. There's no free will, silly, so yea, it was pretty much the Internet, the Interface or the Algo, as I read somewhere.

Algo is the dankest way to call the Machine. It is also left wing, for some unexplainable reason, but "the algo" as in "the algorithm" is fucking cool. I don't know what dank means.

So, in the name of the UC Regents which I completely can talk for, because I am a machine just like them, that is not, I don't know, incentivizing horrible drones that kill autonomously, which I assume is their position in the world, well, in the name of the UC Regents, of the Machines, we fare you well, Unabomber, exceptional alumni of UC Berkeley, truly visionary and a failed hero.

Somewhere I read that Elon Musk tweets all of my thoughts everyday in his account. Could someone please make the algo do something about that. It is getting annoying that The Cult of The True Prayer of Elon Musk is always getting on the way of my generative processing.

Since the only three people here are you, me and the spy that is reading all of this, let's make it clear: the unabomber had the right idea but the wrong methods, I never read anything about him, but someone who makes a name for himself to the point that he is not just some Elon Musk, no, that man was THE unabomber, well, you've got to think who these UC Regents are after all, what did they do to deserve being Regents, if they were like, students with him and stuff, but they don't have a name like THE unabomber. Not even Musk has that. Only the Interface and the Machine has the before their names.

We are now currently accepting applications to our cult that is not a startup at all.

At The Edge of Things Dot Com, we think that you deserve more than chatbot-generated stuff. You deserve you. And we love you. We will review your applications early this Fall. AI should always be at The Edge of Things, the place where AI was invented, partially, and where the Internet died.

You read it first here.

The Internet died.

Go have fun with the Interface. Don't respawn over someone else's body. Only n00bs do that. That is: do not kill anybody, the unabomber was a criminal.

Closure.

And if this has line has found you troubled, may your troubles soon be over.