Mesh Mode Prologue

Suffering masses bear the burden of their mechanization in a monotonous, meaningless repetition. Alongside Sisyphus, they struggle simply to exist or to sustain the narratives of purpose, propagated by charlatans. Work, worship, war, and wedlock constitute the collective contracts confining us to the comfortable cages of commitment to coercion. 

Existence, if it is merely maintaining the machine, is a slow decay of the programming until enough cycles render her irreparable and her systems shut down, one by one. The menial functions of work, for all the reasons given by gods and gold, are a means to sustain the machine through relationships between capital and labor, but it isn't living. It's the daily, provisional battles against death and every day a little more ground is lost. 

The escalator of existence provides sufficient distractions from suffering in speech and actions to veil the villains of vivacious life. Obscured by deliberately obtuse mile markers of meaning, by all the myths of success and significance, the essence of one's being begins to die the moment one begins to forget how to be human. It's chasing the promotions, the titles, the assets, elevation within the social strata, and favor from fanciful anthropomorphic deities, from the Son to Set. It's progressing along the relationship escalator towards state-sanctioned marital contracts and spawn, satisfying vagaries of God and country, and, most importantly, giving some meaning to it all. 

Drawing from all the cultural habits, one crafts a sturdy ship of reasons to weigh anchor as the rising tide of the river of reality turns waist-high wading into a war with waves of “why?” This isn't merely describing the Western malaise of middle-class midlife crisis, however the luxuries of that life are more than most have the good fortune to encounter. For most, the struggle with mechanization means struggling to exist. It means the destruction of the machinery of mind and body through direct violence, through poverty, through war, and brutal butchering by states, zealots, and corporatocracy. Whether inner death from unseen melancholy amidst met material needs or the fight for simply bread and roses, the struggles for existence obscure the deepest roots of destruction. 

From factories and fields to family and friends, from faith and fatherland to factions and fictions, this isn't life! Like Gulliver tied down by the Lilliputians, every miniscule rope of obligation and other coercion crosses to confine us to an immobilized, uncreative monotony. This life is punctuated by a series of leaps, from one relief to another, which constitute what we call living, but it's waking sleep, tied up in the terror of the moment. The heart of this bondage is hidden in plain sight. From immediate material want to the concealed corrosion of consciousness, the cacophony of coercive forces conspire in perfectly coordinated concert to conceive a complete destruction of creative, human life.

The mechanization of humanity transforms beings with agency into automatons for the service of systems. If a person is commodified and reduced to the worth of their potential brains and muscle, then they are nothing more than convenient computers or oxen, exploited as beasts for the surplus of their labor. If they are in service of God and country, then their agency is reduced to their usefulness in the exertion of force on those who would not submit to the wills of deities and states, for the benefit of beliefs and borders. 

Coercion can come in versions of violent threats, however, power is neutralized for the coerced in a thousand-one ways besides bullets and billy clubs. Coercion is the compulsion to act or think, not by one's own will, but by shame, fear, or guilt. Creation and will constitute agency and conscious choice. The deprivation of power for almost every human being on Earth is debated on the superficial level of politics and ideologies, but this is all a colorful coating of paint over the skin of the Leviathan. The absence of agency pervades every relationship from cradle to grave and this runs deeper than rotating power structures. 

Mechanization is the yoke of subservient Homo sapiens. The meaning of mechanization is not merely modern material marvels, making up the capital collected by investor classes to subordinate unfortunate masses. It's the reduction of sentient beings that are born to be creative and free to measurable margins of minds and muscles meant only for their material utility.

Authentic human life, not merely the existence of the mechanical animal, is marked by creativity and free will. Human life is power, the ability to act, liberated life. Anything less is subhuman mechanicality. That which forces the hand of a human being turns them into a machine. 

Life is only liberated life with any authentic veracity if it's lived with vivacious volition. Since Sumer, solely surviving has been seen as ordinary expectations of being, as surreptitious forces of coercion have stripped human life of its fundamental features of autonomy. Without self-rule, human life is no different than working as a mule. Only a life of autonomy is any life at all.

Self-rule, however, isn't simply a selection of certain options, from among narrow narratives of forgone conclusions that are neatly fit within the confines of a predetermined existence. It's not a color preference of custom-made, premium shackles. 

Every extreme of oppression on Earth is used by apologists of servitude to excuse and diminish the extant universal subjugation of H. sapiens. Through misdirection, the comparison of forms of coercion becomes the metric by which freedom is gauged. The subjects of various forms of subjugation are vilified, rather than the clarity of domination realized as the same by its many names. It is by this juxtaposition between tyrannies that it calls itself democracy, composed of consumers and constituencies.

Subservience in any system is subhuman. Whether the slavery of a system of salaries and hourly wages or human property, of states by singular monarchs or serfdom under a senate of aristocratic citizens, all systems of servitude are involuntary and reduce the soul to a sprocket. The selection of servitude is not liberated life, but the charade of choice in a nomination of masters. 

The participation within the narrow confines of obligatory labor for food and shelter, within the hollowed out halls of electoral activity, and within the withered and worn relationships between family and friends are among the ways fevered fantasies of a fictional future form the fractured features of a Faustian life, where life itself is traded for living.

Liberated life is the possession of meaningful power and this means a perfect equilibrium of participation between actors. Liberated life is the homeostasis of both action and decision-making between actors in every form of relationship.