When Hackers Go To Heaven

hacker heaven

I’m useless at programming, and I think I lost the knack in my early teens. I wasted a whole summer coding animated glyphs on a BBC Acorn, an ancient PC borrowed from school. The end results, despite a great effort on my part, were disappointing to say the least, but I still can’t help admire those who can, and do.

During the height of the MMORPG years, I dipped my toe into see what all the fuss was about. After hours of clicking I came across the odd glitch, errors in the game, exploits of various kinds. Soon others came and milked them for all they were worth, some even made a few dollars selling on their ill-gotten virtual gains.

I’ve never been a gamer as such, I don’t go in for killing, the horrors of competitive hate that so many adore. The virtual horrors of war, rewarded with false spoils, upgraded weapons and armour, just to repeat the process all over again. I did, however, used to enjoy God mode. There are plenty of cheat codes out there for many popular games, if you’re so inclined. In God mode you’re indestructible, and more often than not you’ll clip frames, walk through walls, and even fly. As a game god you’re free to explore every inch of your pixelated dominion, to vanquish all enemies with little effort. Eventually after clearing one level after another, or skipping to the final round, you’ll beat the boss and find the exit.

Life is a game, a great holographic construct formulated to fool the race. If I were dead and had one piece of advice I’d give to the dying, it would be not to hold onto preconceived notions. Belief is an anchor that weighs us down and puts us in our place. On the other side of the veil are creatures, some good, some bad, much like human beings, the worst of all feed on our expectations and suck our spirits dry. Those malevolent spectres that guard the outer perimeter of mortality, the last border before impossibility. If you can get past them, you’re free, and will never need suffer the torment of physicality again. If that sounds more like a threat than a promise, then you obviously still need to work it out of your system. Love it or loathe it, this world is a prison. There’s no God mode here, only players.

Some die young and some are born old. Those who recognise this place as soon as they’re born, those countless faces and highly familiar places, it’s time to admit you’ve been here too long. You should make plans to move on, there needn’t be a next time round, as long as you can take this message to heart. When you go, accept that your allegiance to this world is over, and try not to hang about too long. The only way back is the way you came, for without flesh you’ll be ignored, limitless in thought yet devoid of all action. In death, we’re hardly given a thought, let alone presence of being. Seeing is believing, that’s the rule down here, where people remain human, and perceive all others as the same. Perhaps it’s time to try a different tactic, to gather the numbers of the dead, and fight for true freedom outside of the human paradigm.

Despite tradition, or more likely bad habit, death doesn’t necessarily mean a round-trip journey. Try staying open to the idea that this world, and even the human race, are a mass consensual illusion. A trick we play upon ourselves to help us bear the tyranny of mortality, an unending shadow play, duped by a dualistic ruse of universal proportions. When you leave, as we all must do, try looking for glitches, errors in the metaphysical coding of purgatory, the loop the loop of lies. Anything you can do to break the spell will help avoid the theatrics of demonic actors, who play their parts to perfection, as long lost relatives and friends, leading us through the tunnel of light.

We all need to think more like hackers, in both life and death. We need to buck the perceptual trend, fool the holographic mind control of our ancient persecution. We are slaves to flesh, laid prostate by decay, we, the human race, are built to fail. Like everything here, life is intransigent, fleeting, gone in the blink of an eye, and ultimately expendable, replaceable, including you and I.

If you feel you’ve outstayed your welcome, be patient, live your life as best as you can, as humanly as possible, and perhaps enjoy it for the sake of experience. When the time comes, it will be worth it. There are many working hard to change the balance of power in the great beyond. We should help them, and seek to ensure that none of us are forced to repeat our mistakes, ever again.

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