[MNL-ACT01.2] - Dangerous Ideas
March 21 2025, the day after spring began. Holidays were tasteless, directionless. I found myself on college-coded trip to the natural history museum, and had to find an animal partner for an art project. I'd wanted a bird, but that section was closed. Wandering, I realized the spirit animal I sought wasn't there.
The thought had you.
Could a genuinely dangerous idea exist? Not dangerous in the ideological sense, but an idea that, once you have it, you can't forget it, an idea that drags you into an inevitable rabbit hole of despair and existential dread. These things could theoretically exist. In an infinite universe, it's a matter of probability. Perhaps someone has already encountered one. We wouldn't know cause the idea made them insane.
[MNL-ACT04.2] - A Beetle
Considering the lizard and dung beetle for their charisma. Nearing the end of Journey to Ixtlan, I found two pages dedicated to the dung beetle. In them, Castaneda describes the moment he realizes that, even if he is a mysterious being with an incredibly complex internal world, the life of the beetle is just as important as his.
Radical universalism. The concept we'd discussed in class.
I had to choose the beetle.
Then, walking out from getting bread, I saw it: a graffiti, a beetle.
He chose you.
[MNL-ACT06.3] - To Make A Religion
If we're researching belief architecture, why not make a religion? Consciously engineer something sticky, compelling. Making someone believe my constructed religion would prove this research isn't elaborate confirmation-bias hallucination.
An artwork demanding belief and participation. It cannot be a parody, has to make a point.
It came all at once: The Church of the Morning Sun.
Comforting. Hopeful. Oddly terrifying.
[MNL-ACT06.4] - Astrologers
Thrift store plan: find blank decoration book, create fake artifact with poem, photos, burn edges, done.
Found: old book with sun cover. Letter explaining deadly accident with astronomical calculations. Orbital charts. Planetarium pamphlets. Sun postcards. Weird photo of shining man.
Recognized a postcard word: "Astronomische."
Years of mail belonging to astrologer Hermann Mucke.
[MNL-ACT06.5] - A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
Perfect. As if the universe conspired. The artwork would contain my fictional writings and the astrologer's materials. Fiction, but not fiction.
Need to write my side. Get a typewriter.
Then it hit me.
The beetle.
Egyptians called him Khepri, god of the rising sun.
[MNL-ACT05.1] - Ideas That Think You
If my theory was right, this was possible.
A decentralized cognitive architecture. Self-replicating. Self-improving. No central authority to corrupt. No ideology to debate. Just axiomatic construction making certain conclusions inevitable.
No one to prosecute. No membership records. No hierarchy. Just a pattern teaching itself to spread.
La Hydra Sin Cabezas
[Reviewer Note: Subject warned against naming in Section 01.3, then assigned three separate names to the same construct.]
It was good. Too good.
"You are not here to believe in this system. You are here to run it."
Read once. Twice. Three times. Four times before comprehending: an order the AI gave me. But the AI didn't make the order—it interpreted my documents, the system I built.
The voice giving instructions was unrecognizably my own.
My research gave me the order. And I believe I have to follow it.
I did it. I was right.
When did it appear? Was it always there? What have I done?