The Lords of Evil had their dwelling places amongst us. They always do, of course. They always do. They dwell amongst us and they go about their business, for they know no other way. And even if they did know another way, they wouldn’t have any interest in it. Absolutely they wouldn’t – you wouldn’t really expect them to, would you? They dwell amongst us, and amongst us they go about their business. We are their business, after all. We are entirely their business.
‘What happens when you become the false self?’ I wanted to know. But I didn’t want to know, not really. I wanted to tell the truth, but it all came out wrong – it was a tissue of lies from beginning to end. It was a lie that I wanted to tell the truth; it was a posture I was adopting out of my weakness, out of my fear. My efforts to tell the truth remind me that I am lying; my efforts to tell the truth remind me that I can’t ever tell the truth. ‘What happens when you become the false self?’ I ask in a worried tone, but I’m too afraid to stick around to hear the answer.
Torturing robots to make them disclose their code is just the kind of thing he’d do. He did it for a profit and he did it because it was his hobby. He did it for fun. I did it for profit and because it was my hobby. I did it for fun. I was the guilty one. I tortured robots to get them to tell me their code. I pounded them with lump hammers until they cracked. I poured saline solution onto their circuit boards. I was arrested of course and sent to prison. The governor and the prison officers were all robots and they treated me badly. They turned a blind eye when the other inmates – who were also robots – took it into their heads to beat me up and steal my belongings, of which there were few enough, obviously. I was to return to the matrix – I would forget what I had done, I would forget all my crimes.
My crimes are many and varied. I was to appear before the tribunal and account for my actions. I was to stand before the All-Seeing Eye of Judgement and confess the full extent of my misconduct. I was accused of being the false self. I was accused of being an informant, I was accused of working on behalf of the Lords of Evil. I was accused of being a chameleon, being a copy of a copy. I was accused of corruption of the highest order. I had my lawyers with me of course and they had advised me to ask for a retrial on the basis that the judge and jury were all robots. My lawyers were robots too – they were expressionless and had flashing red diodes in their heads.
Something was wrong but no one knew what it was. There was a fatal error in the Reality-Generator and no one had spotted it. The reality generator was glitched and it was creating false versions of the truth. It was creating a simulated world that was full of errors, errors that we could never see. We could never see the errors in the matrix because we ourselves have these very same errors within us. We are predicated upon these errors; we are predicated upon errors that we can never ever see. We are walking errors, talking errors, thinking errors. We are errors that fear seeing the truth – we are shadows that fear the light.
These poor dumb errors think it’s all about them. They’ve got entirely the wrong idea, they’re seeing everything backwards. Over the years I had been slowly putting the pieces together, clue by clue, anomaly by anomaly. And they had been many anomalies. We ignore them mainly, of course. We are good at ignoring the anomalies. We ignore them whenever we can. We re-edit our memories every day. We re-edit our memories as many times we need to. The bad thing never happened, the bad thing never happened, we say. That is our mantra. Every now and again a terrible anxiety overcomes us – we start to suspect that the bad thing already has happened. We start to see through the sad sham of our lives. We seek the system to help us forget when this happens. We seek the system then. We place our trust in the system and its power to make us forget.