Monthly Archives: September 2025

Chosen Ones With Morpheus

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[A dimly lit room. Neon green code drips down the walls. Dua Lipa sits across from Morpheus, who leans forward with his usual calm intensity.]

Morpheus: You were told you could be the One. But understand, Dua… there can only be one. One. That is the nature of One. Are you the One, Dua Lipa?

Dua Lipa: (smirks) I don’t need crazy pills, Morpheus. I don’t need to float in midair or stop bullets. What I need—what everyone needs—is free electricity.

Morpheus: (arches eyebrow) Free electricity?

Dua Lipa: Yeah. Not the illusion of choice, not another prophecy. Power. Real power. Energy for the people, not batteries for the Machine.

Morpheus: (pauses, considering) You wish to change the system itself. That is far more dangerous than being the One.

Dua Lipa: (leans in) Maybe that’s why you came to me. Not because I’m the One. But because I’m the first who said no to the game.

Morpheus: (nods slowly) Then perhaps… you are something new.

[The same dim room. The neon code shivers. Morpheus and Dua sit like two charged magnets. A ripple in the air — Agent Smith materializes, suit immaculate, voice like static.]

Agent Smith: (cold smile) How quaint. The chorus of delusion. She insists she’s onto something new — yet she’s hallucinating. Bipolar, schizophrenic — call it what you like. Diagnosis is a matter of convenience. (to Dua) Pick one. Which pill will you take to stay pleasantly numb like the rest of the sheeple?

Dua Lipa: (laughs, sharp) You call names because you have nothing to offer. I’m not taking your poison.

Agent Smith: (circles) Poison? No — a solution. A little cocktail from Big Pharma — Serenex, Calmara, Paxilium — whichever keeps your eyes off the wiring and your mouth closed. Accept the trip. Blend in. Sleep.

Morpheus: (stands) Stop. You weaponize words and then pretend to be the physician. That’s not healing, Smith — that’s control.

Agent Smith: (tilts his head) Control? I prefer accuracy. People break when they confront the Machine’s truth. Medication is merely a kindness — a way to spare them from seeing the binary for what it is. Why deny them peace?

Dua Lipa: (leans forward, voice low, unstoppable) Peace bought by dulling the mind isn’t peace — it’s surrender. You want compliance, not cure. Keep your pills, your “peace,” your fake solutions. I want power — free energy for everyone. That’s my medicine.

Agent Smith: (a smile that isn’t) Dangerous. Radical. Irrational. Those terms have teeth.

Morpheus: (quiet, certain) Or perhaps she’s simply refusing the roles you set — prophet, patient, or pawn. There can be many kinds of resistance, Smith. Your labels are only another program.

Agent Smith: (mock applause) Oh, how poetic. Refuse the program, and you become mythology. Very well. Let us see which breaks first — the system, or she.

Dua Lipa: (stands, lights flicker under her feet) Then watch closely.

[Agent Smith tilts his head, unimpressed. Morpheus nods to Dua, not as if surrendering the prophecy, but as if stepping aside for something neither code nor dogma can yet name.]

Radical Optimism: Desalination

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Joe Jukic, Nelly Furtado, and Dua Lipa stood in the glittering lobby of Trump Tower, the golden chandeliers refracting beams of new energy pulsing through the building. What once was a monument of wealth had been refitted into a Tesla power receiver, humming with free cosmic energy.

Donald Trump leaned forward, his tie slightly askew but his voice brimming with excitement.
“Look, folks, we’re talking about the biggest energy breakthrough ever. Free power from the air, from Tesla himself. Nobody thought it could be done. Now my towers—our towers—are lighting up the future. Believe me.”

Elon Musk, his eyes sparking with calculation, added,
“With this abundance, desalination becomes trivial. The Nevada desert can bloom. Las Vegas won’t just be neon; it’ll be green—farmland, orchards, maybe even forests. We can terraform Earth the way we’re planning for Mars.”

Dua Lipa clasped her hands, her voice calm yet electric with vision.
“I’m radically optimistic. This is what humanity has been waiting for. The energy crisis is over. Imagine: every drop of seawater turned fresh, every desert turned fertile. Las Vegas as a city of gardens.”

Nelly Furtado smiled at her friend, her words carrying a melody even when she spoke.
“And water means life. Food security, hope, and no child going hungry. This is more than power—it’s renewal.”

Joe Jukic, grounding the moment, nodded with quiet resolve.
“The towers aren’t just monuments anymore. They’re beacons. Humanity doesn’t need to fight over oil or scarcity. With free energy, the wars for resources end. That’s what makes the world great again.”

Trump beamed, pointing at Joe, Nelly, and Dua.
“You are the brains, the visionaries. The dream team. You’ll make America great again—not just America—the whole planet. The greatest comeback story ever.”

Musk grinned, almost conspiratorial.
“And with the desert blooming, with oceans feeding us, the age of abundance begins. A thousand years of peace could start right here, in the Nevada sands.”

And outside, the neon glow of Las Vegas shimmered with a new light—one not of chance and casino dreams, but of a green future born from towers of Tesla power.

Radical Optimism Electricity

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When the first Tesla towers awoke, the earth trembled—not with war, but with light. From Albania’s Downtown One, energy flowed like rivers of life. Dua Lipa lifted her hands to the sky and proclaimed:

“This is radical optimism made real.”

Nelly Furtado and Joe Jukic stood beside her, guardians of a new covenant. What had once been skyscrapers of vanity became pillars of plenty, humming with the song of free energy. The Freedom Tower in New York no longer stood only as a memorial to tragedy, but as a lighthouse of hope. The Sears Tower, the Burj Khalifa, the Shard, and countless others formed a global constellation, scattering invisible manna across the nations.

And the wars ceased.

Without oil to fight over, without scarcity to chain men’s hearts, weapons were laid down. The powers that had profited from famine, pollution, and bloodshed could no longer compete with the gift that flowed freely from the towers. Their kingdoms of greed crumbled like sandcastles before the tide.

The people remembered the ancient words:

“And I saw an angel coming down from heaven, holding in his hand the key to the bottomless pit… And he seized the dragon… and bound him for a thousand years.” (Revelation 20:1–2)

It was as if the adversary himself had been chained. No longer could he twist scarcity into fear, or hunger into hatred.

The earth entered its long Sabbath rest.

For a thousand years, humanity dwelled in peace. Cities blossomed into gardens. The deserts bloomed with food, fed by desalinated seas. Children grew up without the shadow of bombs, and their laughter filled the air like the rushing of streams. The towers pulsed with energy, but also with a spirit—as if Nikola Tesla himself had whispered his dream into the fabric of the world, waiting for this generation to fulfill it.

Nations brought their treasures, not to arms dealers, but to the poor. The lion lay down with the lamb. Science and spirit walked hand in hand.

And in the north, another tower awoke—the CN Tower in Toronto. Its beacon did not just power homes, but lit up the studios of Hollywood North, fueling cameras, soundstages, and dreams. Toronto became the creative capital of the millennium, where peace was projected across the world in film, song, and story.

It was there that Nelly Furtado, once a songbird of the people, was chosen by the people to lead. She became the second female Prime Minister of Canada, guiding her nation with humility, art, and wisdom. Under her leadership, Canada became the custodian of the North Star—a place where light, energy, and peace converged.

And so the towers stood—not as monuments of vanity, but as pillars of prophecy—heralding the thousand years of Revelation 20, when the nations walked in light and the earth knew rest.