The great day of convergence

A personal memoire of what we have all been suffering for and anticipating

This may look like an essay, but it’s really “typing therapy” in disguise.

Many of us have endured years in a “two-world” liminal space: one foot among the “normies” who take television as reality, the other among the “Anons” who decode psyops in real time. We did not choose this condition. Something within us sensed long ago that the world felt “off,” and we began tugging at a loose thread. Over time, that single strand unraveled into a vast “warehouse of wool,” dismantling the cultural cosmology we had inhabited since childhood. Once you see through the lie the “sheep” accept, you cannot return to their innocence.

There is a cost to perceiving what others cannot or will not see. The damage is said to be even greater for those in clandestine service, living a classified life hidden even from their spouse. The irony is that in public, you often cannot persuade people to acknowledge dangerous falsehoods, no matter the effort. Hospitals, supermarkets, schools, churches, courts — the list of corrupted institutions is long. Whether through addiction to comfort or weakness born of fear, many who seemed allied to truth instead revealed allegiance to another kingdom. We have not only had to confront the scams we once fell for, but also watch loved ones cling to them with pride.

Friends drift away once you are smeared by the media. Legitimate concern about state-backed crime is rebranded as “extremist,” “conspiracy theorist,” “cultist,” “radicalised,” even “Nazi.” Hatred and division are stoked, families fracture, workplaces turn hostile, reputations are destroyed. The violence of psychological, biological, and information warfare means that “everything bleeds except the body.” Because there are no trenches or munitions factories, this silent war can appear insubstantial, yet it is every bit as deadly. Persevering in fifth-generation hybrid conflict — where civilian and military blur — demands extraordinary determination and discipline. The very scarcity of those on the “front” is telling.

On this path, you encounter things so dark you hesitate to put them into words, fearing that expression might manifest them. In truth, every horror film reflects some reality. The alleged abominations include gender inversion of the unborn through in-utero hormone injections (“freemartins”), sex-slave amputees (“living dolls”), and the abuse of clandestine cloning and consciousness-transfer technology for endless torture (“megadeath”). I have no firsthand evidence of these, but even the possibility is sickening. They are more than wild fantasy, yet less than established fact. I now understand why much is withheld from the public.

Even the demonstrable abuses are enough to horrify: the Internet of Bodies and intra-body control; targeting with energy weapons; mass manipulation through radio frequencies; CRISPR gene-editing and genetic warfare; artificial parasites; mind control via AI-driven social media; industrial-scale organ harvesting; deliberate poisoning of brain and glands to suppress intelligence and awareness. It is enough to spoil your appetite. Military force may be the only way to confront such nightmares, yet anyone who studies the matter quickly realises the scale of the hidden underworld. Synthetic biology, quantum tech, and nanotech have already exceeded what most people can even imagine.

Those who perceive this formless theatre of invisible war live a paradox. On one level, we stand conceptually above the general population, seeing symbols of power, orchestrated patterns, and narrative arcs across decades. Yet acquaintances often look down on us, pitying us for failed predictions or premature warnings. One quickly learns restraint: if I can foresee a development, so can the enemy, and real operators never disclose. That’s acceptable — better to be right about direction and wrong on timing than to march the wrong way entirely.

Operational details remain secret, but intentions are clear: to retake our world from criminals. Even broad strategies can be plain, such as applying the laws of war above compromised civilian courts. The longer this continues, the more we discover, the deeper the rabbit hole extends. We glimpse events unfolding above the skies, beneath the seas, deep underground, in cyberspace, and possibly off-planet — perhaps even across parallel universes, if physics permits. We may know far more than the average debt-slave citizen, yet remain comically ignorant of the full scale. It is another kind of schooling, beginning again from near-illiteracy.

Commitment to truth brings its own certainty: there will come a time when society’s multiple “realities” reconcile into one. Whether through disclosure of past crimes, televised tribunals, reform of finance, dismantling of corrupt institutions, or release of suppressed technologies — eventually the fractures will close. The intuitive sense that a “great day of convergence” is coming is what sustains us through grief over lost companions, estranged children, and abandoned careers. It is faith that good prevails, lifting us above cynicism, impatience, and despair.

This is not utopian fantasy but inevitability. Empires built on lies collapse under their contradictions. Deception is costly to maintain, and eventually its energy bills come due. Truth is not so much revealed as it is all that remains when falsehood decays. In my own work, it takes only one person to prove that the court named on a summons is not genuine for an entire system to collapse. Truth is, by definition, self-consistent across every time and place. It does not erode in the wind, weaken in the light, or decay with the seasons.

Whether or not a literal “day of convergence” arrives matters less than the principle. I have seen others ridicule dissenters, blind to the humiliation awaiting them when pride goes before a fall. Corruption always tallies to death, never life. For some, the reckoning will be the blunt reminder: “This is how it always was, but you refused to see.” Their narrative fantasy will dissolve, and effort will no longer be wasted pretending it had substance. When the horns sound and the propaganda citadel collapses, it will be cathartic. Yet at another level, nothing changes: the truth remains exactly what it was the day before.

Maybe I will see a great day of convergence. Maybe I won’t. My suspicion is that it comes only when, in the final reckoning, it no longer matters. That is to say: when one has surrendered to the absolute, knowing that truth always stands above narrative. A more socially acceptable narrative is never a substitute for truth. I don’t have to be right, only righteous. To stay open to possibilities that unravel everything I once believed — without becoming a dupe for every tall tale — is enough. A moment of mass revelation would, in a sense, be a great leveller: welcome to the realm of the “somewhat lost, but actively looking for the way.”

It isn’t that some of us magically foresee the future; it’s simply that we recognise the impossibility of our culture’s stories about the past.

So their failure is predictable.

🙏