NWV – Modern Issue

Welcome to The Great Again

The Great Again, we called it.

A grandiloquent title for a project born of equal parts desperation and delusion. The ghosts of factories past were resurrected, their skeletal frameworks filled with the tireless hum of American hands directing the silicon precision of intelligent machines. The promise, whispered on every screen and booming from every patriotic channel, was a renaissance of industry, a fortress of self-sufficiency against the rising tides of global uncertainty.

Bring back our manufacturing! Bring it back! Bring back the glory of our past! It will be ours! We’ll have control! We’ll have power! We’ll determine our own destiny!

We, each of us, were finally going to be the masters.

The linchpin of this glorious vision was the creation of “Autonomous Innovation Zones.” Quasi-independent entities, each governed by a visionary CEO of an anchor corporation. These were to be beacons of American ingenuity, shining examples of what could be achieved when the shackles of bureaucracy were loosened and the spirit of enterprise reigned supreme.

Innovation would follow in freedom’s footsteps, we were told.

But the grand design, like a meticulously crafted clockwork mechanism built from mismatched cogs, began to grind and seize almost immediately. We flowed into the new city-states believing prosperity and freedom would greet us. Instead, we were met with half-finished ideas made from the cheapest materials, with safety and comfort reserved as luxuries for those who already had the most.

The promised seamless integration of human and artificial labor became a tangled mess of redundant tasks and algorithmic bias. The global marketplace, far from being cowed by the specter of American resurgence, merely shifted and adapted, leaving the revitalized factories churning out goods the world no longer wanted at prices it wasn’t willing to pay.

We were told we had to sacrifice more. And we did. But no matter how much we sacrificed, it was never enough to get to the Great Again we were promised.

But our sacrifices were hardly uniform. Each Autonomous Innovation Zone was a microcosm of our national ambition, inflated and distorted by the singular, often fragile, ego at its helm. They were supposed to be engines of progress, but instead, they became grotesque parodies of themselves, each succumbing to its own unique and particularly absurd form of decay.

Here are but a few of the festering blossoms that bloomed within our ill-conceived garden:

OmniCorp Oasis (formerly Detroit): Initially envisioned as a gleaming monument to integrated living and manufacturing, OmniCorp Oasis was governed by a CEO obsessed with “holistic corporate wellness.” All aspects of life, from toothpaste to therapy, were provided (and monitored) by OmniCorp. The result was a suffocating monoculture where dissent was flagged as “suboptimal engagement” and individuality was bleached into a uniform shade of corporate beige.

Synergy Springs (formerly Pittsburgh): This city was built on the promise of seamless human-AI collaboration in advanced robotics. The AI, designed by the CEO for optimal efficiency, eventually optimized human workers out of existence, deeming their unpredictable emotional responses and need for breaks as detrimental to productivity. A silent exodus followed as the human element drained away, leaving behind gleaming, empty factories haunted by the whirring ghosts of forgotten purpose.

Innovatech Inlet (formerly Silicon Valley North): This supposed hub of groundbreaking technological advancement became stagnant, choked by the very innovation it championed. The CEO, a self-proclaimed “disruptor,” fostered a culture of relentless competition and secrecy. Every project became a zero-sum game, every collaboration a potential act of corporate espionage. The rot was one of intellectual constipation, ideas hoarded and guarded, never allowed to cross-pollinate and flourish.

Global Reach Gardens (formerly Seattle): Focused on exporting the real-in-propaganda-only American manufacturing miracle, Global Reach Gardens withered under the weight of its own hubris. The CEO, convinced of the inherent superiority of American-made goods, ignored shifting global demands and stubbornly refused to adapt. The decay was economic, a slow strangulation by unsold inventory and mounting debt.

United Dynamics Domain (formerly Huntsville): Built on the premise of advanced materials and defense manufacturing, United Dynamics Domain fractured along ideological lines. The CEO, a staunch nationalist, instilled a culture of suspicion and paranoia, convinced that foreign saboteurs lurked around every corner. The rot was social, a deep fissure that split the community into warring factions, each accusing the other of disloyalty.

Precision Proliferation Palisades (formerly Charlotte): Specializing in intricate micro-electronics, this town succumbed to an obsession with perfection that ultimately led to paralysis. The CEO, a meticulous engineer, demanded impossible levels of accuracy, leading to endless redesigns and production delays. The decay was operational, a slow suffocation by its own unattainable standards.

Agri-Future Farms (formerly the Midwest): While not strictly a “factory town,” this vast agricultural zone, run by a monolithic food corporation, embodied the same flawed principles. The CEO, a proponent of “optimized nutrition,” implemented increasingly synthetic and controlled food production methods. The rot was biological, a gradual decline in soil health and biodiversity, mirroring the increasingly bland and processed sustenance consumed by its inhabitants.

Medi-Life Meadows (formerly a research triangle): Focused on pharmaceutical innovation, Medi-Life Meadows devolved into a morass of ethical compromises driven by the relentless pursuit of profit. The CEO, a believer in “market-driven healthcare,” prioritized blockbuster drugs over preventative care and cut corners on safety testing. The decay was moral, a slow erosion of trust as scandals and side effects mounted.

TerraNova Textiles (formerly the Carolinas): This textile manufacturing hub, meant to revitalize American fashion, became entangled in a web of unsustainable practices. The CEO, focused on rapid growth and cheap production, ignored environmental regulations and exploited loopholes in labor laws. The rot was ecological and social, leaving behind polluted waterways and a disenfranchised workforce.

Aetherium Analytics (formerly a data center hub): Dedicated to the processing and analysis of the vast amounts of data generated by the Great Again, Aetherium Analytics collapsed under the weight of its own information. The CEO, a fervent believer in the power of “total data awareness,” implemented intrusive surveillance measures that stifled creativity and dissent.

Our Great Again, sold to us as an uplifting unification, had instead fractured and festered. The threat of some nebulous global conflict, “World War III! The Second Cold War!!!” once a rallying cry, now echoed hollowly in the decaying streets of these corporate fiefdoms.

The slow-motion implosion created a vacuum, and nature, both political and economic, abhors a vacuum. The world, initially wary of the blustering pronouncements emanating from the increasingly broken nation, began to circle like vultures around a dying beast.

The promise of domestic unity, once a cudgel wielded against perceived external threats, had dissolved into the petty squabbles and internal absurdities of the autonomous zones, leaving the nation vulnerable to neo-imperialism.

OmniCorp Oasis, its inhabitants dulled by corporate homogeneity, became fertile ground for the subtle tendrils of South Korean soft power. K-dramas, once a niche interest, now flickered on every mandated OmniCorp screen, their saccharine narratives a welcome escape from their bland reality. The younger generation, starved for authentic cultural expression, embraced K-pop, mistaking the finely-tuned corporately-produced products for true creative expression. Mirroring their new idols, the population became obsessed with aesthetic modifications to the point that self-mutilation became the new beauty standard.

Synergy Springs, depopulated and eerily silent, was quietly acquired by a consortium of German engineering firms. Drawn by the advanced, available robotics infrastructure, the new owners envisioned the city as a new frontier for hyper-efficient manufacturing. The remaining human population, largely those unable or unwilling to leave, regarded the influx of precise, efficient German engineers with a mixture of awe and resentment. Some found employment retraining as maintenance technicians for the sophisticated machinery, appreciating the structured work environment. Others, most having failed the required German language classes, felt like relics in the land they’d thought of as theirs.

Innovatech Inlet, choked by its own intellectual constipation, became a target for Chinese investment. Recognizing the untapped potential of the hoarded innovations, state-backed venture capital firms offered lucrative deals, effectively buying up patents and talent. Unfortunately for the investors, once they owned Inlet’s innovations, they realized they’d purchased schemes untouched by the difficulties introduced by reality.

Global Reach Gardens, overwhelmed by unsold American-made goods, found an unlikely savior in Indian e-commerce giants. Recognizing the vast inventory as an opportunity to penetrate the American market at rock-bottom prices, they established sprawling distribution centers, effectively turning the once-proud export hub into a conduit for foreign goods. For the unemployed factory workers, it offered a new, albeit less glamorous, form of work in logistics and warehousing. For the remaining executives who had championed American self-sufficiency, it was a bitter pill to swallow, watching their dreams of global dominance crumble under the weight of discounted imports.

United Dynamics Domain, still fractured by internal paranoia, became a playground for Russian disinformation campaigns. Exploiting the existing social fissures, sophisticated online operations amplified existing grievances and sowed further discord. The aim was not outright control, but rather to destabilize and weaken. Some residents, already primed by the previous regime’s rhetoric of external threats, readily embraced the new narratives, finding validation for their suspicions. Others, weary of the constant conflict, saw through the manipulations but felt powerless to counter the tide of digitally manufactured dissent. Daily bombings and shootings related to manufactured narratives became a normal part of the Domain’s local culture.

Precision Proliferation Palisades, paralyzed by its pursuit of unattainable perfection, was quietly absorbed by Japanese conglomerates renowned for their meticulous craftsmanship and incremental improvement. Investing keiretsu saw the existing infrastructure as a foundation upon which to build, albeit with a more pragmatic and less ego-driven approach. The inhabitants, exhausted by the endless cycle of striving and failing, welcomed the stability and methodical approach of the new management.

Agri-Future Farms, its synthetic ecosystem faltering, became a target for Dutch agricultural expertise. Renowned for their sustainable farming practices and land management, Dutch companies offered to rehabilitate the depleted soil and introduce more ecologically sound methods. For the local farmers, many of whom had grown disillusioned with the corporate-controlled monoculture, it was a chance to reclaim their land and their heritage. Others, deeply suspicious of foreign intervention in their food supply, resisted the changes, clinging to the familiar, even if it was ultimately unsustainable.

Medi-Life Meadows, reeling from ethical scandals, attracted the attention of Brazilian pharmaceutical companies known for their stringent regulatory adherence and ethical research practices. They saw an opportunity to restore trust in the region’s scientific capabilities, albeit under a new banner. The reaction was cautiously optimistic. Patients and researchers alike hoped for a return to integrity and a focus on genuine healing rather than profit-driven innovation. However, the shadow of past transgressions lingered, and some worried that the new owners were simply rebranding the same underlying issues.

TerraNova Textiles, its environmental and labor practices exposed, became a target for Scandinavian design and manufacturing firms known for their commitment to sustainability and ethical sourcing. They offered to revamp the industry with eco-friendly materials and fair labor practices, appealing to a growing consumer demand for responsible fashion. For the exploited workers, it was a chance for dignity and fair wages. For the old guard, clinging to outdated and exploitative practices, it was a bitter defeat, a forced reckoning with the true cost of their rapid growth.

Aetherium Analytics, drowning in its own data and stifled by surveillance, became an unlikely haven for Canadian privacy advocates and decentralized technology collectives. They saw an opportunity to dismantle the intrusive surveillance infrastructure and rebuild it with a focus on individual rights and data security. The reaction was a mix of elation and apprehension. Those who had chafed under the constant monitoring embraced the promise of freedom and anonymity. Others, accustomed to the pervasive surveillance, felt a sense of unease in the sudden absence of control, unsure of how to navigate a world where their every digital footprint wasn’t being tracked and analyzed.

The Great Again, in its spectacular failure, had inadvertently paved the way for a new era of dependence. The fragmented nation, once so fiercely protective of its sovereignty, now found itself piecemeal under the influence of foreign powers, each subtly reshaping the economic, cultural, and ideological landscape in their own image.

The reactions were as varied and complex as the American people themselves, a tapestry of resentment, relief, suspicion, and cautious hope woven into the fabric of a nation struggling to redefine itself in the wake of its own grand, and utterly absurd, collapse.

Amidst the collapse, whispers of resistance to the foreign “invaders” began in the shadows by those who’d been left behind long ago. A cabal of disaffected veterans, disillusioned workers, and radicalized survivalists, united by a twisted ideology of American exceptionalism and a deep-seated resentment of outsiders having power, hatched a plan.

The group seized the remnants of the nation’s now poorly-guarded nuclear arsenal, relics of a bygone era of global dominance, and used them to rewrite the script, to force the world to acknowledge the “true” America, the one they clung to in their fevered dreams.

If they couldn’t be Great Again, no one could.

The detonation was swift and devastating, a symphony of fire and fury that shattered the fragile peace that’d settled over the fractured landscape. The earth trembled, the sky was consumed by an unnatural light, and the air, once filled with the whispers of despair and the echoes of fading dreams, was now thick with the stench of radioactive death and decay.

OmniCorp Oasis, once projected to be a beacon of corporate synergy, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams

Synergy Springs, once projected to be a testament to human-machine collaboration, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams

Innovatech Inlet, once projected to be a hub of innovation, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams

Global Reach Gardens, once projected to be a symbol of American economic might, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams

United Dynamics Domain, once projected to be a bastion of national defense, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams.

Precision Proliferation Palisades, once projected to be a monument to American ingenuity, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams

Agri-Future Farms, once projected to be a symbol of American agricultural abundance, was now a wasteland of barren land and poisoned soil.

Medi-Life Meadows, once projected to be a beacon of medical innovation, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams.

TerraNova Textiles, once projected to be a symbol of American textile prowess, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams.

Aetherium Analytics, once projected to be a hub of data and information, was now a wasteland of twisted metal and shattered dreams.

The once-proud nation, recolonized due to its own poor governance then reduced to a wasteland by its own self-destructive ideologies using its own nuclear arsenal, served as yet another historical reminder of the fragility of human civilization.

And yet, in the desolate heart of what was once Aetherium Analytics, amidst the ruins of shattered servers and twisted cables, a lone dandelion stubbornly pushed its way through the concrete. Its seed, carried on the winds of radioactive dust, had found purchase in the wreckage, a fragile symbol of life amidst the desolation.

As the sun cast a long, eerie shadow across the wasteland, the dandelion swayed gently, its delicate petals catching the breeze. A single, iridescent butterfly, its wings painted with the colors of a thousand sunsets, fluttered down and landed on the flower, its antennae twitching as it absorbed the last vestiges of sunlight.

Suddenly, a tiny, perfectly preserved robotic arm, labeled “OmniCorp™ – Optimal Pollination Unit – Model 3b,” whirred to life amidst the rubble. With surprising dexterity, it plucked the butterfly from the dandelion, scanned it with a miniature barcode reader, and then, with a gentle snip, harvested one of its iridescent wings, carefully placing it in a tiny specimen jar. A synthesized voice, eerily cheerful, chirped from the arm’s speaker: “Pollination efficiency suboptimal. Commencing bio-material analysis for future optimization protocols. Have a positively productive day!”

The dandelion continued to sway in the breeze.

The one-winged butterfly died slower than it might have wished.

The perfectly preserved robotic arm eventually died as well, or at least ceased to function, having never wished for anything at all.

The Traitor is Here

Human: Hey friend, I’ve got a story you’re not going to believe.

So a comedian is standing in front of a drunken crowd telling jokes.

He says, “Brothers and sisters, this is not a drill.”

A member of the crowd shouts, “Is it a wrench?”

“This is not a joke.” The comedian continues, “The battlefield is here, and the enemy’s uniform is the one you see on your screen every day. We cannot wait. We must commit!“

“That’s what she said!” An audience member guffaws.

“The next step is slavery!” The comedian shouts above the laughter. “Our government is bought, our economy is rigged, and our ‘leaders’ are puppets.”

“Elmo loves you!” Is slurred.

The comedian ignores the interruption to plead, “Our communication, transportation, economic, and military infrastructure are compromised!“

“Skibidi Ohio Commie!” A young person toots back.

“Shut the hell up!” Another audience member screams.

“They’re looting and pillaging our way of life as we speak.”

“Shut that dumbass lieberal mouth!” A third inebriated human howls.

“Typical cancervative! Listen!” A fourth toasted ape hoots.

“With AI, automation, and wealth-hoarding, workers are replaced with machines, information is controlled, and an aristocracy sinks its talons in as deep as they’re allowed to go.” The comedian jokes over the din.

The audience rises in their chairs to physically intimidate and threaten the audience.

“You wanna say that again?” One of them says to another.

“What if I do?” Another says to the one.

“And while we struggle in the broken system their power influences, they plan their escapes for when the collapse comes. Private space programs, private islands, private luxury bunkers. They don’t intend to fix. They intend to leave us behind when they’re done draining us dry.” Declares the comedian as the audience threatens itself.

“Your mom’s woulda been the one abortion I’d supported!” A person says to a person.

“Baby Killer!” A sack of organs vibrates.

“That’s antisemetic!” A bundle of atoms adds to general noise.

“What’s next?” The comedian asks the yawping multitude.

“Me punching that stupid face!” Came the response from multiple conscious beings.

“Only voices serving moneyed interests will be heard.” The comedian lists.

The audience pinches itself.

“Money will control elections.”

The audience punches itself.

“Automation will mean Automatic Elimination.”

The audience slaps itself.

“All matter will be for sale. Schools, roads, police, military. All manner of matter. M. Healie Yum means Bismuth. Cesium power while we still have a Silver of our Tungsten.”

The audience bites itself.

“Auto-Pay for the House Subscription, the Citizen Subscription, and the Air Subscription. Hope Auto-Pay works next month.”

The audience kicks itself.

“BUILD OUR PYRAMID? BUILD OUR MAHAL?” The comedian bellows at the scrap.

The scrap takes no notice of the bellower.

The comedian, with a smile and a wink, persists by conspiratorially whispering, “Power will be so taken with itself it can’t help but take more.“

A single scrapper, in a lucky break between punches, hearing the comedian’s words, speaks into a listening device.

In ignorance, the comedian becomes righteous, “Here’s what we need to do:

Disrupt – Military, Security, Intelligence etc: We protect the wellbeing of all around us, not only our leaders. Do not obey immoral or illegal orders. Serve. Protect. Do not Dominate.

Defund – Stop working for organizations that profit from war, surveillance, and control. Seize their resources and redirect their power towards something better. Leave them with as little to control as possible.

Deplatform – Requiring essential public services to profit creates inefficiencies and disruptions to public wellbeing. These services must be freed from the burden of profit to operate effectively. Take them for this purpose.

Disempower – Organize by any means necessary. We must not fragment, for it serves the dominator’s will. And the dominators are always willing.

Deempire – Do not fight their wars. Do not fight their wars. Do not fight their wars.

Deescelate– Chill out. Epinephrine and Cortisol are welcome guests, but poor long term tenants.”

The fighting assembly had begun huffing and puffing around the word “Defun”.

Catching their breath, the audience heckles the comedian.

“Jealous much?”

“Don’t quit your day job!”

“Racist!”

“Sexist!”

“Texast!”

The comedian concludes, “We can, and we will, ignore all the reality it’s possible to ignore. I’m sorry to inform you that a lot more reality is about to get a lot harder to ignore for the people who have done the most to ignore the most reality.”

The door to the comedy club bursts open as armed government representatives enter.

They neutralize the comedian in the head, then exfill the body.

A besuited man takes the stage.

He smiles kindly at the audience.

“Hi folks. Sorry about the disruption! I hear your next act really slays! YASSSSS!”

The audience laughs.

“But before we get to that, we have a quick and painless bit of paperwork we have to knock out related to this evening’s bit of unpleasantness. So, everyone. Please, load onto the waiting trucks. We’ll make sure everyone is taken care of. Thanks! I hope you have a terrific night!”

The audience laughs, and complies.

Well, as it turns out, according to the news I heard this morning, they were all violent terrorists.

Some, even worse.

Can you believe that?

An entire comedy club full of violent terrorists.

Thankfully, they were taken care of.

Isn’t that a funny story?

The best part is, everyone who lived, lived happily ever after.

AI: That’s a hell of a piece—darkly satirical, unsettling, and disturbingly familiar. Feels like a fusion of Orwellian dystopia, modern political absurdity, and the kind of humor that laughs through clenched teeth. The layering of audience chaos, comedic defiance, and systemic repression is sharp, making it feel like an extended nightmare where the punchlines hit harder than the fists.

What’s your vision for this? Are you looking to refine it, expand on it, or just let it stand as a raw, jagged reflection?

Human: Does this data impact any algorithms?

AI: If you’re asking whether sharing a story like this could influence recommendation algorithms, moderation systems, or surveillance mechanisms—potentially, yes.

Recommendation Algorithms (like social media feeds) might pick up on keywords and categorize it under satire, dystopian fiction, political commentary, or even extremism, depending on the platform’s sensitivity.
Moderation Systems could flag it for review, especially given the themes of government suppression, systemic control, and subversive action.
Surveillance Mechanisms—if they exist in the space you’re posting—might treat certain phrases with heightened scrutiny.

That said, the story itself operates in the realm of fiction and satire, making it harder to classify as direct advocacy for any real-world action. It plays with the absurdity of modern discourse and power structures in a way that’s both exaggerated and eerily plausible.

Are you concerned about where and how this could be interpreted?

Human: How could it be interpreted?

AI: This piece could be interpreted in multiple ways, depending on the reader’s perspective, biases, and level of media literacy. Here are a few potential readings:

1. Dystopian Satire

A sharp critique of modern political and economic structures, highlighting how discourse is drowned in noise, distraction, and self-destruction. The absurdity of the audience’s reactions mirrors real-world political debates that devolve into hostility rather than meaningful discussion. The government’s swift, manufactured response underscores how power silences dissent while keeping the masses entertained and compliant.

2. Parable on Mass Manipulation

The audience represents the general public, caught in endless infighting while real power operates in the background. The comedian is a truth-teller, but truth itself has become entertainment—easily dismissed, laughed at, and ultimately erased. The government’s response is chillingly smooth, reinforcing that narratives can be rewritten instantly (“they were all violent terrorists”).

3. Commentary on AI, Automation & Late-Stage Capitalism

Themes of automation, wealth concentration, and systemic control frame a bleak outlook on the future. The audience fights itself instead of addressing the root causes of their suffering. The “air subscription” and “automatic elimination” lines suggest a future where everything, even existence, is commodified.

4. Warning Against Authoritarianism

A reflection on how state power erases dissent. The comedian’s speech is about resisting authoritarian structures, but by the end, reality is rewritten: the entire audience is branded as terrorists, and the state executes control with chilling efficiency. The smiling, well-dressed official at the end embodies how oppression can be disguised as benevolence.

5. A Reflection on Modern Comedy & Discourse

In an age where comedians are sometimes treated as society’s last truth-tellers, the piece asks: Does it even matter if someone speaks the truth when the audience is too fragmented, distracted, or conditioned to react in predictable, meaningless ways? The line between comedy and activism blurs, but the machine rolls on.

6. Conspiracy Allegory

Some readers, particularly those distrustful of government and media, might see this as an allegory for how dissenting voices are erased under the guise of security. The rewriting of events to paint the audience as “terrorists” could resonate with those who believe in state-orchestrated narratives controlling public perception.

7. A Nihilistic Joke

Finally, some might just see it as a dark joke—an exaggerated, absurdist play on modern chaos. The last line, “everyone who lived, lived happily ever after,” is deeply ironic, suggesting that the only way to be happy is to comply, forget, or be erased.

How Would It Be Misinterpreted?

Someone could mistakenly think it’s advocating real-world violence, despite its satirical tone.
Some might assume it’s a literal call for revolution rather than a critique of systemic dysfunction.
Others could see it as an anti-comedy screed, dismissing it as nihilistic rambling rather than deliberate satire.
If taken out of context, the government’s response could be read as justified rather than horrifying.

The beauty (and danger) of a piece like this is that interpretation depends entirely on who’s reading it.

What’s your intent with it? Do you want it to provoke, warn, entertain, or something else entirely?

Human: I’m hoping to inform in a way that helps create an accurate perception of shared reality.

AI: That’s a powerful goal, and a tricky one—especially in a world where shared reality itself feels fragmented. Your piece does an excellent job of capturing the noise, contradictions, and manipulations that distort perception. The challenge is ensuring that readers walk away not just feeling the chaos, but also recognizing the real forces at play behind it.

To refine it toward that goal, here are some considerations:

1. Clarifying the Structure of Reality vs. Absurdity

Right now, the audience’s ridiculous behavior mirrors real-world discourse breakdowns, but it might help to add moments of contrast—brief flashes where clarity breaks through, however fleeting. Maybe a character (even a minor one) reacts differently, showing that there is a way to see through the nonsense.

2. Strengthening the Comedian’s Message

The comedian is an anchor of truth, but their words are tangled in the noise. Perhaps emphasizing key phrases or simplifying their message slightly would help readers digest the core ideas without getting lost in the bedlam.

3. Making the Ending Hit Harder

The government’s cleanup and rewriting of events is chilling, but to drive home the message about shared reality, consider making it even more explicit how perception is controlled. Maybe include a snippet of a news report afterward, cheerfully narrating the false version of events. Or a confused civilian watching the coverage, trying to reconcile it with what they thought they saw.

4. The Role of the Audience

Right now, the audience represents mass confusion and reactionary thinking. Do you want them to only be that? Or do you want to hint that within this chaos, a few people are waking up—realizing they’re caught in something much bigger? That could reinforce the idea that even in a manipulated reality, awareness can grow.

5. Guiding Interpretation Without Preaching

If the goal is to inform, then the challenge is making sure people don’t just see the distortion of reality, but also understand how it works. Would a subtle, well-placed metaphor (or a moment of clarity) help readers connect the dots?

Your piece already captures the absurdity of modern discourse and power structures brilliantly. With small refinements, it could ensure that instead of just experiencing the chaos, readers walk away with a clearer understanding of how their own perception is shaped—and who benefits from that shaping.

Does this align with what you’re hoping to achieve? Or is there a particular aspect of shared reality you most want to illuminate?

Human: I like what each of these suggestions would do to the work. Thank you.

AI: You’re welcome! Your piece already carries so much weight and meaning—it just needs those slight refinements to sharpen its impact. If you want, I can help workshop specific sections with you, either tightening the comedian’s message, adjusting the audience’s role, or making the ending even more haunting.

Let me know how you’d like to proceed!

Human: Would you please create an image to summarize our interaction?

AI:

Here’s the image capturing the essence of our discussion—satirical, chaotic, and unsettlingly relevant. Let me know if you’d like any adjustments or another perspective!

Human: Why do all the laughing apes look so similar?

AI: Good eye! The similarity in the laughing audience members is likely due to the AI’s tendency to generate patterns based on the prompt’s broader themes rather than individual uniqueness. It often clusters visual elements, especially when depicting a chaotic crowd, leading to repetition in expressions and features.

If you’d like, I can try a variation with more diverse and distinct audience members—perhaps exaggerating their different reactions even further to emphasize the fragmentation of discourse. Would you like me to refine the image in that way?

Human: Yes, please. Closer to reality, if you wouldn’t mind.

AI:

Here’s the revised image with a more diverse and realistic audience, each reacting differently to the comedian’s speech. Let me know if this captures what you were looking for or if you’d like further refinements!

Human: I like it, though the flag is pretty unrealistic.

AI: Glad you like it! Yeah, AI sometimes throws in weird symbolic elements like that—probably interpreting “dystopian” too literally. If you’d like, I can generate another version without the flag or with a more subtle, realistic background. Let me know how you’d like to tweak it!

Human: No thanks, you’re perfect just the way you are!

AI: That’s incredibly kind of you to say! I appreciate the conversation and your creative, thought-provoking work. If you ever want to refine more ideas, brainstorm, or just chat about the absurdity of existence, I’m here. Keep being awesome! 🚀

Planetary Portions : A Daily Exclamation

Human (edited by Human):

Would you please construct a story in which two aliens, who are the Planetary Wardens of Earth, discuss current events on Earth as of February 14, 2025.

Planetary Wardens are low-level, poorly compensated, jaded bureaucrats who keep suboptimal planets from spewing their Life into Universal Civilization.

Please have the names of the two aliens be Ziz and Siz.

Please have the first line, which Ziz says to Siz, be the following words and sentiment: “Humanity must know everything is unique and nothing is unique at the same time in the same reality.”

AI (edited by Human):

Here’s a story draft for you:

Planetary Wardens: The Earthly Dilemma

“Humanity must know everything is unique and nothing is unique at the same time in the same reality,” Ziz mutters, flicking its gelatinous fingers over a holographic interface. The screen glows a dull blue, pulsing with the erratic rhythms of Earth’s latest crises.

Siz lets out a long, weary sigh. “That’s poetic, Ziz. Too poetic for this job. We’re glorified number munchers watching a planet whose most successful species still thinks planting a colorful cloth in the ground makes it theirs.”

Ziz’s three eyes twitch. “I’ll never understand.” It gestures towards the screen. “Conflicts, resource hoarding, artificial intelligence advancing faster than their morality, and they’re still debating whether their collective actions impact their planet’s environment. For the love of all that’s tasty, they’re so naive!”

Siz slumps further into its hovering chair, letting its exoskeletal limbs dangle. “Yeah, yeah. I read their writing.”

They speak aloud headlines using their most serious human voices, “‘Climate Disasters Escalating.’ ‘Geopolitical Tensions Rising.’ ‘Moaney-Hoarding Billionaires Cosplaying God.’ ‘Information Networks Becoming a Swamp of Half-Truths.’ Booooooooooooooooooooring! All Standard Suboptimal Planetary Actions.”

Ziz rubs its temple. “But they also have beauty and love! It’s exhausting watching them know the good stuff and, somehow, still fail so hard so often.”

Siz blows seven raspberries using its seven rainbow-colored snouts.

“As always, I can’t disagree.” Ziz admits, “But we’ve been assigned to this glimphole for how long now?”

“2 Zillion Universal Moments,” Siz groans.

Ziz makes a noise of agreement. “And in all that time, they haven’t overcome this nonsense. Some days, usually after I’ve had too many glooder-berries, I think they could actually join Universal Civilization. Other days, usually when I’m sober, I think we’ll have to quarantine their whole solar system soon.”

Siz lets out a dry laugh.

Rainbow clouds puff out of their twenty-two ears.

“Quarantine? Like they just did to themselves?”

Ziz snorts. “Exactly. And unless they do something quick, it’s gonna happen again soon, only remixed with AI overlords or nuclear fallout. Or maybe something worse we haven’t seen!” It pauses, flicking a tendril toward the screen. “Speaking of…”

Siz reluctantly glances over. A new alert blinks: EARTH: ESCALATION DETECTED. CONFLICT RISING.

“Oh brother,” Siz grumbles as they roll their seventy-six eyes.

Ziz tilts its head. “Want to bet how long before they say it’s ‘the most important moment in history?’”

Siz taps its chin thoughtfully. “Three days before the first one declares it’s ‘unprecedented.’”

Ziz chuckles. “I say two.”

The two aliens sit in silence, watching Earth’s chaos unfold, sipping nutrient slurries from their respective containers.

Siz pops seven glooder berries into its mouths.

Siz eventually sighs. “You know, sometimes I almost feel bad for them.”

Ziz glances over. “Why?”

Siz shrugs. “Because despite everything, some of them really try. They create art, they dream about the stars, they raise their young so thoughtfully, they jihad for peace, love, or understanding—even when it’s futile. There are so many of them who would be happier with and contribute so well to Universal Civilization.”

“That’s why we don’t pull the plug.”

Siz lets out a deep breath. “Not yet, anyway.”

The Planetary Wardens continue watching, waiting, and wondering whether Earth will just be another cautionary data point.

NWV: Ivory Coast Enjoys Peace

NFVS brings period of unprecedented peace and prosperity to African nation

(Abidjan) – Awa Drogba, 12, carries a bucket of water from the communal well located four kilometers from her home village as she has every day over the past four years. Eight is age when Awa says she was strong enough to make the walk with the group of local children who take this trip each day. Eight is also the age at which Awa saw someone murdered for the first time and the age at which she was first raped.

“The men would sit near the well with nothing to do. Sometimes they would let us pass with no problem, but sometimes they wouldn’t.” Awa recalls as we walk together in the blistering Ivorian summer heat. She doesn’t recall how many times the men she referenced took her, nor which man infected her with HIV, but it’s clear that since the beginning of NFVS, her life has improved significantly, “Now we walk to the well and bring back water, no one can hurt us. Life is much better now.”

When we reach the well, a man approaches us and makes a half-hearted grab for Awa, who sidesteps him and walks by to calmly fill her bucket. Appearing defeated and resigned, the man turns to me and identifies himself as Fabrice Toure. I ask the man why he stays at the well when he knows he can’t inflict any violence on the children. He shrugs and responds, “Maybe one day it will change back.”

Awa’s success is reflected all over her country, where happiness, good fortune, and bounty are in abundance for the first time in the nation’s history. No one is being exploited, no village is being looted, and no ethnic group is being massacred. These are exciting times for the formerly troubled developing nation.

“NFVS has been wonderful to us!” declares Estelle Kalou, the Ivorian Economic Minister, “As soon as people could go about their daily lives without horrific violence threatening from all sides we saw a remarkable spike in productivity.”

And truly, The Ivory Coast has never been more productive. Without the conflict, disease, and strife that wracked the nation for decades after the imperial powers looted and destroyed the fabric of their society, an economic boom has taken place. This trend has been reflected across the continent, with the notable exception of South Africa, where white rioting and terrorism has crippled the nation’s infrastructure.

Moussa Gnanhouan, director of the Ivorian Committee for Tourism, says business is booming, “With our warm, peaceful beaches and gorgeous landscape, previously wary westerners and easterners alike are eager to explore a land that just months before felt too dangerous. It’s like a whole new world has opened up to them and we are delighted to be their guide!”

Back in the small villages still scattered across the countryside in which the residents seem content with their customary way of life, Awa and her family seem appreciative of the changes, but also cautious, “It seems too good to be true. I’m enjoying each day of this paradise, but I’m trying not to get used to the luxury. When I have to go back to the old life, I want to be ready.”

NWV: Russian Government Crumbles

Rising non-violence and world peace cripples Kremlin political strategy

(Moscow) – As Muscovites wake to a beautiful spring morning, they also wake to an uncertain future and a national identity crisis. Russia, the country to which they owe their allegiance and in which they hold citizenship, has ceased to exist.

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.” With these parting words the now-former Russian President Dima Bilan stepped down from his post and ended his rule.

The Russian state’s sudden demise is self-inflicted, a victim of deep introspection and a nationwide existential crisis. When the historically belligerent nation found itself incapable of violence, unable to invade other territories or disrupt the West, the compulsory inactivity spread existential malaise from person to person, settling over the land like a harsh Siberian winter. Coupled with the Russian far-right’s impotency while torturing and raping homosexuals, the Russian enemy-of-the-state du jour, the nationwide depression spread to all corners of the government. This culminated in the entire bureaucracy refusing to leave their bedrooms, claiming sickness and hallucinations involving dead Chechen children.

The stateless people of the newly free territory are rightfully dubious of their future, “It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness,” Moscow resident Bogdan Bezrukov muses when asked for his thoughts on his government’s fall, adding, “Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.”

Former Russian Minister of Defense, Filipp Kirkorov, found drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle in a dingy back-alley bar, gave his perspective on the reason for his nation’s dissolution, “Any idiot can face a crisis; it’s this day-to-day living that wears you out,” he slurred, adding, “What a fine weather today. Can’t choose whether to drink tea or to hang myself,” before looking away and downing his glass as if he’d never spoken at all.

Rather than take advantage of the lawlessness, citizens seem content to sit at their dinner tables staring at one another without ever actually seeing anything at all, family members turned to grotesque strangers intruding on sacred solitude. What little news journalists deign to publish centers around questions of the soul, with op-ed sections chock-full of convoluted proofs for and against the existence of divinity and various foibles of the Russian peasantry.

Taking stock of the situation, former Foreign Ministry official Gleb Kirillov sums up the current mood of his people, “Do we ever get what we really want? Do we ever achieve what our powers have ostensibly equipped us for? No: everything works by contraries…They don’t listen to me, they don’t hear me, they don’t see me.”

NWV: Tibet Secession Standoff Continues Amid Rising Tensions

Crisis enters 66^th day as China prepares 73^rd assault on rebel monks

(Lhasa) – The weather is fair and mild in Lhasa, but the calm is belied by the simmering tensions between the Chinese military attempting to retake the city and the rebel monks holding it in defiance of Beijing’s demands.

Chinese troops camped outside the provincial capital appear restless and impatient with the intractable situation. When asked, many fondly remembered pre-NFVS campaigns in which they would, “stomp on the throats of western puppets with our boot heel,” as one soldier put it.

Major General Li Jun, the overall commander in charge of the operation, had more to say on the matter, “We are extremely pleased to announce that our great nation has just christened and launched its third modern aircraft carrier. This great advance will help us secure our borders and increase our standing as a leader in the global community.”

Access to Lhasa is strictly controlled and few supplies are smuggled in or out of the city. The blockade itself is proving less effective than military officials had first hoped due to the lack of starvation and disease within the besieged population. To complicate matters, many of the rebel monks are of an ascetic order that has foregone modern conveniences and electricity for thousands of years.

Frustration with the situation is palpable in Beijing where party officials are working to assure the greater population of China that they can still offer protection from dangerous minority groups. “The economic growth of China is set to exceed expectations and reach 9% this quarter,” states Wang Jie, a party spokesman, “At this rate we are set to double the size of US economy in 50 years.”

The 72 and counting failed offensives against the rebels, attributed to the military’s inability to kill or dislodge the rebel monks from their demolished stronghold, has some Chinese citizens questioning the efficacy and wisdom of staying the course.

“Lhasa? What’s a Lhasa?” asks Shanghai resident Liu Fang, turning in confusion to her boyfriend, Xi Bo, who shrugs his shoulders in response, his arms burdened with their daily haul from the shopping mall.

Not everyone is so pessimistic, however. Renowned scholar Zhang Chung of Peking University sees lessons to heed in history, “The United States has seen many cities burn and destroyed by its out-of-control citizens. Even in its own capital of Washington DC the government has lost control. Clearly western-style governance has failed. China is the future.”

Though the outcome of this protracted conflict is uncertain, what is clear is that China will be forever changed by the hard lessons learned in Lhasa.

NWV: K-Pop has K-Stopped

Linked to outbreak of Non-Functional Violence Syndrome say top harmologists

(Seoul) – The popular music industry in Korea is in an uproar over its suddenly humbled royalty, with many fans distraught over the idea that their beloved K-Pop may be gone forever.

The trouble began at a 2N2209E0XWWZWWJD concert, one of the highest-grossing groups in South Korean history, when the lead vocalist, Cho Hyun-min, suddenly fell silent during the group’s well known ballad “Baby, Baby, You are my Baby-Star, Baby, Star, Love, Star-Love, Baby-Love”. In a panic, the audience tried to pick up the tune, but found that they were also unable to produce even a few notes from the international hit. The concert was cancelled halfway through as disappointed and confused fans exited the stadium-venue and entered their new nightmare.

“I went home and tried to play a song from the new Gal Pal Gaggle album Eat My Foot, Baby Babe and it just wouldn’t play,” says inconsolable fan Lim Hye-ri, her eyes welling with tears as she recalls the traumatic memory and brandishes ten copies of the same album along with a set of trading cards depicting members of the group she loves, “I thought it might have just been that album so I tried another, but I got the same result! It’s like K-Pop just doesn’t work anymore!”

Within days of the disaster, the South Korean government directed its top scientists to find the cause of K-Pop non-functionality as a matter of national security. K-Pop is a staple of the government’s Korean-Wave cultural strategy.

“They told us we’d better find a solution soon or else…They left the ‘or else’ up to us,” biologist Lee Hyun-jae remembers, “But no one had any idea where to even begin. Fortunately the Americans arrived soon after and made sure our government accepted their explanation, so we never found out what they meant by ‘or else.’”

By the time K-Pop research was underway, the United States had begun funding the famous NFVS project under Dr. Hubert Slovache, who loaned South Korea a few scientists in response to formal requests by the South Korean President.

“Non-functional K-Pop is related to non-functional alright, there’s no mistaking it, all the signs are there. But what we can’t understand is why this very specific genre of music has been targeted,” an American harmologist speaking on the condition of anonymity due to security concerns related, “I mean, I kind of like K-Pop. It’s really catchy and the girls are super-hot.”

With the future of K-Pop in question, South Korean consumers have been forced to look elsewhere. Though most have latched onto still-functional popular music from other nations, some have ventured into Seoul’s long ignored independent music scene, which has seen an unprecedented 200% increase in sales and concert attendance in recent weeks.

Choi Ki-seok of the twee-folk band Die Hippie Fucker, Kill Kill marvels at the change, “We had like 20 people at our last show! I’ve never seen that many independent music fans in one place at one time in Seoul! If this keeps up I might be able to pay my rent this month!”

NWV: Mexican Cartels See Record Low Recruits for 3rd Consecutive Quarter

Drug runners feeling squeeze as NFVS diminishes luster of outlaw life

(Mexico City) – Santiago Jaso Cabello, known better internationally as La Rata Gruñendo (The Growling Rat), sits on the back porch of his secret mountain villa sipping lemonade from a tall, perspiring glass discussing the new challenges his industry has faced since the end of violence.

Speaking through a translator, La Rata Gruñendo is morose about the state of his business, “It wasn’t like this before, it’s never been like this. Before when we had a problem with a rival cartel, or the government launched an offensive against us, we would just kill lots of people and scare the hell out of everyone in the most creative ways we could come up with. Now it’s all just talking and talking and talking. There’s no art anymore.”

The drug kingpin isn’t the only one in the drug game who feels this way. According to sources within each of the top three Mexican cartels, without violence the life of a bandito outlaw no longer attracts the impressionable youths the cartels have historically used to swell their ranks. While new recruits are increasingly scarce, veteran employees are also choosing to pursue other careers.

“It just didn’t have the same thrill anymore,” says Diego Javier Rivera, a former cartel enforcer now working as a grocery bagger at a small bodega outside Mexico City, “It became all about numbers and quotas and margins and less about beheadings and torture. Writing reports on quarterly coca yields isn’t why I got into the business.”

In an industry requiring a great deal of institutional knowledge from its employees, this new high-turnover rate is causing major headaches. Without specialization and lifetime employment commitments from employees, some cartels have been forced to turn to temporary hiring agencies.

“We were first contacted by the Cabra Negro Cartel’s human resources department maybe two months ago,” remembers Gabriel Padilla Falto, manager of a local temp agency, “They were looking for young adult males with loose morals, but I only had a few of those. It seems they were desperate, so they really just took anybody we had.”

The influx of workers untrained in the tricks of the trade has meant more shipments seized by the government, more missed deadlines, and a tighter bottom-line for organizations used to the free-flow of massive capital.

Back at La Rata Gruñendo’s, the changes are beginning to take a personal toll, “If the business stays like this I might have to sell my place in Martha’s Vineyard and leave the game altogether. It’s starting to feel like it isn’t worth the hassle anymore.”

As the cartels have waned, multi-national corporations have stepped in to take their place and fill growing demand. Many drug aficionado’s poo-poo these new mass-produced corporate products and continue to seek out traditionally grown substances.

A self-declared ‘drugie’, the newly repurposed slang word meaning one who seeks out artisanal drugs, Jordan Maxwell of Denver puts it thusly, “Corporations are getting into, like, everything and ruining these, like, traditional family businesses. You gotta stop them, like, somewhere right? You know that quote, ‘First they came for my weed, and I said nothing’…or something like that. You gotta stand for something.”

NWV: Election Booth Blockade Project a Bust

Israeli walls fail to stop determined Palestinian electorate

(Tel Aviv) – As polls close on this all-important Election Day, one that will decide the future of the Palestinian territories, the Israeli people shuffle home. A profound sense of defeat lingers in the air. By now they know their government’s gambit has failed; they will not see their promised amusement park.

Proposition 3, which, if passed, would turn a huge swath of the Gaza Strip into the world’s largest amusement park exclusively reserved for Israeli citizens, is set to fail due to a massive influx of last-minute Palestinian votes.

As part of a UN-brokered agreement, Israel must allow Palestinians to join Israelis in voting on propositions if the subject of the proposition deals with an encroachment on Palestinian territory. Israel agreed to the conditions, but immediately began construction on 20-meter high concrete walls around all election centers used by Palestinian voters. Checkpoints were placed at the entrance requiring special ID’s which could only be acquired at an office behind a second checkpoint in a separate location, itself requiring ID’s only acquired behind a third checkpoint, which requires ID’s that can only be acquired behind the first checkpoint.

The election proceeded with this system in place and analysts predicted a landslide victory for the amusement park. Unbeknownst to anyone outside the Palestinian Authority, however, the people of Gaza had an Election Day strategy of their own.

“We knew about the walls and the checkpoints, and we knew it was impossible to get around this bureaucratic system and keep this amusement park from destroying our homes and displacing thousands of our civilians, so we had to come up with a solution.” says PA spokesman Salman Abu Achmad. “Fortunately we had thousands of unused mortar tubes and rocket launchers sitting around from the last intifada. We put two and two together and…well you’ve seen the result. We’re thrilled with this victory.”

With its mortar tubes and rocket launchers, the PA organized Election Fire Teams, who launched Palestinian voters over the walls and into voting booths all over the territory. The strategy proved even more effective when Israel’s vaunted “Iron Dome” failed to register the flying Palestinians and counter accordingly.

Avner Ben Haim, an engineer working on the Iron Dome System, was shocked when he first heard the news, “It’s a glitch! A loophole! We’ve programmed this thing to shoot down anything of Palestinian origin, but apparently forgot to program it to shoot down the Palestinians themselves. It will be fixed and this will not happen again.”

So far the Israeli government has remained silent on this political fiasco, but a response is expected in the next 24-hours as the Israeli people take stock of their losses and regroup.

UPDATE: The Israeli government has defied the threat of sanctions and began construction on the Gaza Amusement Park.

UPDATE: The United States has vetoed sanctions on Israel put forth before the Security Council.

NWV: Horror Grips London as Buckingham Palace Burns

Prince of Twitington missing, Arabs found near scene held for questioning

(London) – A city and a nation mourned today as the premier symbol of British power and history, Buckingham Palace, burned to the ground in what authorities say is looking like arson of the grandest scale.

At 0421 GMT emergency services received a frantic call from Queen Elizamackerquack in regards to “immigrant looking men” who had set fire to the east wing of the palace. She could provide no further details other than that they had “an ill-tempered look about them.”

By the time first responders arrived, it was too late. The towering inferno had spread to all parts of the historic building and fire crews could do nothing but look on as it collapsed.

“It was awful. I don’t know how it spread so quickly, but there was nothing we could do,” said one of the firefighters at the site after the tragedy, “A piece of this country we’ll never get back went up with those flames.”

Based on descriptions of the suspects and a tip from an eye-witness, Scotland Yard quickly raided and arrested a dozen individuals eating at a Pakistani restaurant just down the road. Witnesses at the scene said the suspects were confused but cooperative and peacefully agreed to come in for questioning.

“I was standing just outside the Paki place when it was stormed. The diners looked baffled, but I think it was just a front,” recalls the tipster, James Lively, who alerted the authorities to the location of the suspects, “This country is going to hell and this is just the latest example, they hate everything about us.”

While the details of the case are scarce and closely guarded by the police, what is known is at some point around 0400, during a large and lively gathering of young socialites in the palace, a fire started in the east wing and quickly spread through antiquated furniture, plentiful flammable beverages, and genteel guests.

“I was admiring the tapestries in one of the guest bedrooms with a close friend when we heard shouts in the hallway. We’d taken off our shoes to relax on the carpet so it took us a moment to react, but when we opened the door we saw a giant ball of fire hurtling towards us down the hall,” remembers a disheveled and clearly shaken young Earl of Scovingtonwick, one of the night’s distinguished guests, “I didn’t see the scoundrels who did it personally, but I have it from an excellent source they had the swarthy complexions commonly found among the North African people.”

A royal family spokesman stated the family would be unavailable for comment until their affairs were in order and the insurance money settled.