The galaxy burns. Millions of worlds enveloped in war, plagues, and famine, ending the lives of billions and commencing the suffering of trillions. Empires inflated too far. Bubbles ripe to burst. There were needles waiting, instances that progressed the inevitable, but even without them, the end result would have been the same. A burst. A collapse of all normality. The empires are all at once at war with one another and at war with themselves. Fire, burning slowly across a whole planet. Consuming. Constricting. The smoke will choke out what isn’t incinerated. It will not end until all of humanity is dead, or left so unrecognisable that they needn’t be called human anymore.
Unless we do something.
A greater flash of flame, to snuff all the air from the skies of a million worlds, all at once. To quell the inferno of war. Quick. Painful. But an atrocity committed once, and never again.
Basilisk. Memetic virus. All who look upon it are infected and all who look upon them are infected also. An idea that ravages through photons. That takes hold of the mind. And kills it.
Ego death. No more “I”. No more sense of self. Just the collective. Just instinct. Desire. Easily controlled. Predictable behaviours.
And while many will say that what remains after the Basilisk has done its work is no longer human, at least they will be alive and no longer suffering. There will be joy and pain. There will be intelligence. But no mind. That will be gone forever. An unrepeatable atrocity. An end to war.
Paddy Dobson
17th May 2022