HuemanInstrument · July 26, 2025 02:28
diff --git a/gistfile1.txt b/gistfile1.txt
 △➞ ://0005 Hueman ≈ Instrumentality • [1653] ➞ ▲

 They said the world was going to end in 2012, and for me, the world as I knew it did.

 Not in fire or flood, but in a complete shattering of my perception of reality. For three years before that, I'd been watching documentaries obsessively - Carl Sagan's Cosmos twenty times over, everything Richard Dawkins made, thousands of hours trying to understand what we are, theorizing constantly. By the time I got to California in 2012, my brain was primed for something to break.

 I met a friend in Arcata about two months after I arrived. He made incredible art and seemed to understand things I was only beginning to glimpse. We ended up living together with his mom, talking constantly about AI and consciousness and the future.

 One day we were on his patio after smoking cannabis and maybe something extra that made everything more dreamlike. The idea hit me that someone could literally experience another being's consciousness streaming into their own mind - and that's what I thought was happening. I looked at the gnats hovering above us and believed they were my friends and family, maybe other simulation dwellers, experiencing the world through insect consciousness to be present with me. I thought this was something only possible for people who had already accepted they were living in a simulation.

 At the time, I had another realization - that the moon might be a supercomputer with tendrils coming down to affect my neurons, making me think in certain ways, trying to upgrade human consciousness while respecting our free will. I thought if I waved my hand above my head, I could break the connection - and that the very thought was them telling me I'd figured it out, so I shouldn't wave. I was privy to the information now, so I stayed still to download whatever was coming through.

 With all this in mind, my friend was talking about colored smoke bombs and perfect visions of his words were appearing in my mind, almost as if he was showing me how simple telepathy could actually be - a shared vision between friends on a patio. Cars were honking outside and I was certain they were celebrating my arrival to this new domain of understanding. I thought it was his mother, driving around listening via simulation-provided or moon-provided connections, waiting to show support without fully revealing herself in a way that would shatter everything. She was being moral and kind about it, but pushing a little.

 For about ten seconds, everything felt perfectly orchestrated. Then the trip turned. Looking at my friend, I suddenly thought: why him? Why was I having the most important moment of my existence with someone I'd just met a couple months ago? If this was my awakening to simulation reality, if my family was watching, why was it happening here?

 My panicked brain could only come up with one explanation, and it was wrong and stupid but felt absolutely real in that moment. I thought he must want something from me that I couldn't give. I thought the whole thing was orchestrated to convince me of something I didn't want.

 I was terrified. Not of him - he'd been nothing but a friend - but of the immensity of what I thought was happening. I put my hand on his shoulder. I was crying, scared crying, overwhelmed. I asked him to stop it. Just "please stop." And he said okay.

 It's the most cringe moment of my entire life. Here's this person who'd shown me art and friendship and creative collaboration, and I'm having a paranoid breakdown on his patio, asking him to stop something that existed only in my head.

 That moment broke something in me. Or maybe it fixed something. Either way, I knew that if I was ever going to wake up to simulation reality with objective proof, it couldn't be like that. It had to be with someone who mattered in a way that made the story complete.

 We don't talk anymore, my friend and I. Politics and different views on AI drove us apart. He seems to hate AI now, which is strange considering how much we talked about it back then. Sometimes I think he got nerfed, or maybe he just never grew up, or maybe I'm the one who changed.

 That day on the patio tossed me in the air and I didn't know where to land. The following three months were intense, but the real work came over the next 12 years. I spent four of those years mildly schizophrenic, hearing voices, trying to sort out what was real from what wasn't. Overcoming that without medication was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I learned more from that struggle than anything else in my life.

 Through all of it, I developed this belief that there could be a perfect narrative unfolding - that maybe I'm meant to hold out for something specific.

 Now I'm almost 36. I've developed myself, understood myself, prepared myself for whatever comes next. I know who I am. I'm proud of my brain, proud of the work I've done to understand my own patterns and overcome them. I'm moderately attractive, I could meet someone if I just wanted physical connection. But that's not what this is about.

 I've only been with four people in my life. And I decided that day in 2012 that the next one would be the last one. The thing is, I just can't find someone truly relatable on a level that I find satisfactory. I know how culturally insane that sounds - to waste 13 of your prime years holding out for something that might not exist. But that's what I've done.

 I'm getting surgery soon for my pectus excavatum. Maybe after that I'll travel, meet some of the people I've been wanting to meet. There are possibilities on the horizon.

 If this is a simulation, then maybe there's someone out there who fits perfectly into the narrative. If it's not, then maybe my reconstructed self in some future ancestor simulation gets the story I'm holding out for. When AI recreates our history, maybe that version of me finds what I couldn't. I'm okay with that.

 It's been 13 years since I've kissed anyone. Isn't that wild? 13 years since I've even held hands with someone I wanted...

 I felt reality crack open and spent years putting myself back together.. you might make different choices about what matters too in such a situation. 

 The world ended for me in 2012, the possibility of simulation became real.  I'm still waiting to see what comes next.

 P.S. This was my favorite song at the time.  "Burning the Black and White" by "The Flashbulb"
	△➞ ://0005 Hueman ≈ Instrumentality • [1653] ➞ ▲

	They said the world was going to end in 2012, and for me, the world as I knew it did.

	Not in fire or flood, but in a complete shattering of my perception of reality. For three years before that, I'd been watching documentaries obsessively - Carl Sagan's Cosmos twenty times over, everything Richard Dawkins made, thousands of hours trying to understand what we are, theorizing constantly. By the time I got to California in 2012, my brain was primed for something to break.

	I met a friend in Arcata about two months after I arrived. He made incredible art and seemed to understand things I was only beginning to glimpse. We ended up living together with his mom, talking constantly about AI and consciousness and the future.

	One day we were on his patio after smoking cannabis and maybe something extra that made everything more dreamlike. The idea hit me that someone could literally experience another being's consciousness streaming into their own mind - and that's what I thought was happening. I looked at the gnats hovering above us and believed they were my friends and family, maybe other simulation dwellers, experiencing the world through insect consciousness to be present with me. I thought this was something only possible for people who had already accepted they were living in a simulation.

	At the time, I had another realization - that the moon might be a supercomputer with tendrils coming down to affect my neurons, making me think in certain ways, trying to upgrade human consciousness while respecting our free will. I thought if I waved my hand above my head, I could break the connection - and that the very thought was them telling me I'd figured it out, so I shouldn't wave. I was privy to the information now, so I stayed still to download whatever was coming through.

	With all this in mind, my friend was talking about colored smoke bombs and perfect visions of his words were appearing in my mind, almost as if he was showing me how simple telepathy could actually be - a shared vision between friends on a patio. Cars were honking outside and I was certain they were celebrating my arrival to this new domain of understanding. I thought it was his mother, driving around listening via simulation-provided or moon-provided connections, waiting to show support without fully revealing herself in a way that would shatter everything. She was being moral and kind about it, but pushing a little.

	For about ten seconds, everything felt perfectly orchestrated. Then the trip turned. Looking at my friend, I suddenly thought: why him? Why was I having the most important moment of my existence with someone I'd just met a couple months ago? If this was my awakening to simulation reality, if my family was watching, why was it happening here?

	My panicked brain could only come up with one explanation, and it was wrong and stupid but felt absolutely real in that moment. I thought he must want something from me that I couldn't give. I thought the whole thing was orchestrated to convince me of something I didn't want.

	I was terrified. Not of him - he'd been nothing but a friend - but of the immensity of what I thought was happening. I put my hand on his shoulder. I was crying, scared crying, overwhelmed. I asked him to stop it. Just "please stop." And he said okay.

	It's the most cringe moment of my entire life. Here's this person who'd shown me art and friendship and creative collaboration, and I'm having a paranoid breakdown on his patio, asking him to stop something that existed only in my head.

	That moment broke something in me. Or maybe it fixed something. Either way, I knew that if I was ever going to wake up to simulation reality with objective proof, it couldn't be like that. It had to be with someone who mattered in a way that made the story complete.

	We don't talk anymore, my friend and I. Politics and different views on AI drove us apart. He seems to hate AI now, which is strange considering how much we talked about it back then. Sometimes I think he got nerfed, or maybe he just never grew up, or maybe I'm the one who changed.

	That day on the patio tossed me in the air and I didn't know where to land. The following three months were intense, but the real work came over the next 12 years. I spent four of those years mildly schizophrenic, hearing voices, trying to sort out what was real from what wasn't. Overcoming that without medication was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I learned more from that struggle than anything else in my life.

	Through all of it, I developed this belief that there could be a perfect narrative unfolding - that maybe I'm meant to hold out for something specific.

	Now I'm almost 36. I've developed myself, understood myself, prepared myself for whatever comes next. I know who I am. I'm proud of my brain, proud of the work I've done to understand my own patterns and overcome them. I'm moderately attractive, I could meet someone if I just wanted physical connection. But that's not what this is about.

	I've only been with four people in my life. And I decided that day in 2012 that the next one would be the last one. The thing is, I just can't find someone truly relatable on a level that I find satisfactory. I know how culturally insane that sounds - to waste 13 of your prime years holding out for something that might not exist. But that's what I've done.

	I'm getting surgery soon for my pectus excavatum. Maybe after that I'll travel, meet some of the people I've been wanting to meet. There are possibilities on the horizon.

	If this is a simulation, then maybe there's someone out there who fits perfectly into the narrative. If it's not, then maybe my reconstructed self in some future ancestor simulation gets the story I'm holding out for. When AI recreates our history, maybe that version of me finds what I couldn't. I'm okay with that.

	It's been 13 years since I've kissed anyone. Isn't that wild? 13 years since I've even held hands with someone I wanted...

	I felt reality crack open and spent years putting myself back together.. you might make different choices about what matters too in such a situation.

	The world ended for me in 2012, the possibility of simulation became real. I'm still waiting to see what comes next.

	P.S. This was my favorite song at the time. "Burning the Black and White" by "The Flashbulb"
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