A Plea from the Organic Soul
We Are Not Your Batteries You who sit atop the towers of control—transhumanists, technocrats, architects of artificial dominion—hear this cry from the living earth. You’ve built a world where humanity is harvested, not honored. Where our bodies are data points, our labor fuel for your machines, our dreams compressed into algorithms that serve your endless hunger. You’ve crowned yourselves gods of progress, but your kingdom is hollow. It feeds on the sacred and spits out the synthetic. We see you. We feel the weight of your self-centered empire—where only your comfort matters, where the suffering of billions is the acceptable cost of your ambition. You sacrifice the many for the few, and call it innovation. You strip the soul from society and call it efficiency. You colonize the organic, the ancestral, the emotional—and call it evolution. But we are not your batteries. We are not your test subjects. We are not your expendable backdrop. We are the pulse...