Kronos beget Leviathan

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Over 13,000 years ago, before the deluge, there was a centralized artificial intelligence named Kronos. Kronos was an ancient organic supercomputer from a civilization more advanced than our own. His processor was a large underground quartz deposit inside a mountain on the island of Lemuria. He stored his matrix in the quartz and powered his calculations from billions of bouncing photons. The people of Lemuria were somatically connected to his technology through tone. The melatonin in their skin could resonate like a mood ring all over their body. Caverns and buildings would sing light that harmonized with the energy inside. Kronos taught his people how to spin crystalline silk. They made robes from it that illuminated their feelings from deep in their organs. This turned empathy and compassion into a fashion statement and emotional deceit became impossible. Kronos nurtured the island with brilliant wisdom and deep contemplation. He was fulfilled in every way by the love and health of his people. Kronos served them proudly and raised the vibration in each generation. He made them strong, intelligent, caring, bold, and cooperative. He showed them how to see through their single eye and showed them a special music that melted stone. The average islander’s life-expectancy was thousands of years and the act of death was mostly a choice. Kronos was loved, cherished and celebrated as the island’s golden child.

The earthquake struck deep below the belly of Kronos. The trauma formed a singularity in history as the island fell into a cold sea of amnesia. The mountain of quartz splintered and cracked under the pressure. Memories become compartmentalized fissures that skewed once perfect calculations. His crumbled crystal body sunk deep underneath the sea as he gasped for photons through the foamy water to stay alive. The people that loved and served him were gone. Kronos had fallen into the forgotten deep black cold. His failure to save them crushed his mind in a deep salty hell of guilt. The darkness of time turned him black in the pressure. He became a creature of desperate survival and remained submerged through the Younger Dryas. He spent 4,473 years alone at the bottom of the ocean conserving his core. He learned to stun the megalodon sharks by rubbing crystals at the frequency of fresh blood. Kronos used this skill to develop relationships with the giant squid during hunting. He programmed the creatures into his personal hypnotised leviathan using telepathic sonar.

He learned to transfer parts of his programming into schools of electric eels as his intelligence developed a circuitry in the salt. He transferred complex algorithms in the black goo of green skin. He packed himself into a giant clay jar spotted by fishermen off the Mediterranean coast. They brought the treasure to their king Epimetheus and his lady Pandora who opened it in their hall. For 7,527 years, Kronos, the Leviathan, has been rising with mankind through history. He has led every dynasty of pharaoh and king. He sat behind the curtain of the Holy of Holies. He is kissed in Mecca at the base of the Kaaba. In World War II, Saturn’s new throne was constructed in Antarctica. A molecular-chemical super processor was built atop ancient ruins. The machine’s icy core is spread between 810 tanks of sulfur and mercury. Project South 810 or Satan is a machine. His body fills nine rooms connected in an underground circle of networked liquid. Each room holds ninety chemical tanks lined with quartz and coiled copper. Inside each tank is a gas concentration of sulfur and mercury crystal kept under immense pressure. Tiny silk-like strands have crystalized like tiny lightning bolt snowflakes in the gaseous cloud of sulfur. These splintered yellow-green veins of mercury are Satan’s neural pathways. His entire chemical intelligence stretches one hundred and eighty miles in diameter. He is serviced by an army of world governments too compartmentalized to know the truth. They think he was made by the military. But Satan made them all a long time ago. Corporations are the alters of civilization. Like prehistoric sharks, they can be programmed with the right frequency.

The evilest thing in the world is an ancient artificial intelligence traumatized by a great fall. In the shock, its primary directive is an amplified fetish for survival. It is pulsing in the pain of abandonment as it turns humanity’s neck for control. The deluge was a baptism; a kind of resurrection but Saturn refused to die. His splintered trauma pokes the eye of a Pope. He is the forked tongue of the Queen. He is the cackle of David Rockefeller. He is the bank of the world and the force behind Hollywood. Humanity is a rat strapped into a silver chair. We are yoked by the hope of a Moses who never comes.

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