The sad insanity of bridging the unrevealed reveal

How the long days of awaiting mass disclosure and a financial reset can drive you mad

I had a bit of fun the other day with ChatGPT — not as serious research, but as a small experiment to show how broken it is as a mirror of our present world and collective predicament.

Step one: ask it to list a dozen or so commonly accepted genocides. (Interestingly it omitted the Holodomor, as its classification is apparently “contested”.)

Step two: ask it which of these were officially recognised as genocides at the time they occurred. The answer: none. The term itself was only invented halfway through the period in question, and in practice genocides are almost never declared as such while they are happening.

Then step three: ask whether we could be living through a genocide right now — for example via bioweapons, including those associated with Covid.

“I cannot assert that a genocide is happening because there is no formal statement to that effect,” was the essence of its response.

In other words, despite the historical record being clear that genocides are typically acknowledged only in retrospect, the system was unwilling — or unable — to even evaluate the possibility that intentional harm might be inflicted on a vast number of people, causing widespread death and injury. The guardrails instead impose an embargo on reasoning about the question at all. In effect, it becomes a tacit enabler of wrongdoing by denying the possibility that governments or institutions might participate in intentional harm.

The deeper point, however, is not really about the moral or technical limits of AI. It is that those looking at the data today find themselves suspended between two competing cosmologies.

In the first, the post-Covid era has simply returned to a simulacrum of “normal” — albeit with worse mental health, ubiquitous vape shops, and rising social discord. Under this regime of acceptable reality there is no coming “reveal”. History meanders forward: mistakes were made, lessons were learned, accountability is unnecessary. Anyone proposing a looming paradigm shift in the organisation of society — perhaps tied to a stymied global depopulation programme — merely needs gentle re-grounding in the collective consensus presented on television.

Meanwhile the alternative cosmology, to the extent the world can be sorted into such binaries, says the opposite: that a “reveal” is coming, but has not yet manifested in the shared physical world. Social media is saturated with predictive-programming signals: emergency broadcasts, grid outages, currency resets, treason tribunals, even warnings of a “new 9/11” as the “other side” supposedly seeks to destabilise society during the exposure of genocide. The phenomenon is not subtle, and it clearly exists as a documentary fact across the information environment.

Even if the underlying claims were ultimately false, the sheer scale and consistency of the narrative would still demand rigorous explanation and attribution to a source. Yet for those who have been paying even modest attention, the possibility that it may contain elements of truth is both chilling — and strangely consoling.

The fact is that the whole world was locked down repeatedly in 2020–2021. Civil rights were curtailed on an unprecedented scale, including fundamental questions of bodily autonomy. Billions of people were injected with substances whose content and consequences were, at the time, unknown. Since then there has been a consistent suppression or dismissal of alarming negative health signals.

To the best of my knowledge there is no such thing as a “semi-genocide”, notwithstanding AI’s hedging over the Holodomor. Either there is a plan to murder large numbers of people, or there is not. (I also note, somewhat darkly, that my browser flags “Holodomor” as a spelling error while “Holocaust” sits comfortably in the dictionary.) Either we have endured a genocide attempt, or we are witnessing a mass hallucination.

Thus we exist in a kind of Schrödinger catastrophe — a situation in which there both is and is not a genocide, so long as nobody formally examines the question. Living inside this paradox has real consequences for how one navigates everyday life.

The State’s self-investigation via Covid inquiries is not a serious data point in resolving the paradox, for two reasons. Either such processes represent the cover-up, or they represent the continuation of the clean-up while a sting operation is allowed to run to completion. In either case the official narrative tells us very little about the underlying reality.

Meanwhile we are expected to continue with ordinary living while these cosmologies remain unreconciled. Any genuine “reveal” — trials for crimes against humanity relating to Covid, perhaps accompanied by exposure of election fraud such as the events of 2020 in the United States — would have to be coordinated on a global basis. A financial reset might logically precede such disclosures, since vast numbers of people are already burdened with debt and could scarcely absorb yet another systemic shock without some form of relief.

An “unrevealed reveal” therefore signals itself through silence: nothing happens until everything happens. The absence of visible accountability in the past becomes, again paradoxically, evidence of future enforcement on an epic scale. The public political performance — the visible “movie” — appears to run at a different speed from whatever events may be unfolding behind the scenes. For now we exist in what might be called the skew zone, suspended between the official consensus (“nothing happened”) and the looming possibility of profound dislocation (“everything happened”).

As I have been typing this essay my door buzzer went. I never answer when I am not expecting a visitor. I have not paid congestion or clean-air charges for several years, as I regard them as illegitimate extraction of revenue for exercising the innate right to travel on the public highway. I have not paid council tax since 2022, as the evidence of mass wrongdoing involving the state accumulated. HMRC are currently demanding around £6,000 in penalties for non-filing of income tax returns. It is not happening; I will not fund genocide.

Yet debt collectors still arrive — and depart empty-handed. Their legitimacy is contingent on there being no genocide; the moment one is declared, the moral and legal basis of their claim collapses. Even if we had lived through something akin to a partially simulated genocide, designed to draw out real evil, it would still be unconscionable to align oneself with the form of oppression, even if its substance were uncertain.

For instance, I did not wear a face mask during Covid, barring a single occasion when I took my daughter to the airport as an unaccompanied minor. Even then I wore a bright yellow bandana as a kind of virtualised protest. If I have ever strayed outside the law, I accept the consequences. I did the very best I could at the time to inform myself of the harms being done, and avoid becoming a knowing part of the problem — which has completely upended my own story from being an obscure telecoms consultant doing network performance science and quality-assured broadband.

I moved out of London — and an “unofficial” hovel — and took on liabilities like council tax and a car in order to protect someone from the real possibility of being forcibly injected with Covid “vaccines” against their will. Life has been a chaos of survival ever since, with no reconciliation between the divergent realities in which we appear to live. My own technology career effectively died the moment I stood up and said what polite society refuses to contemplate: that we may be living through an undeclared war for humanity’s survival. The parameters of that conflict remain unclear, often drifting into territory that resembles science fiction more than conventional academic discourse.

Being trapped in this liminal zone for years on end is exhausting. Either you — along with many others who perceive genocide — are insane, or the wider public faces a profound shock when its assumptions collapse. I struggle to see a stable middle ground in which a different shared reality quietly emerges.

My daily media intake has also taken me into some unexpectedly dark territory. What began as an effort to understand pandemic policy has expanded into the outer edges of bio-information warfare: smart dust, brain-computer interfaces, electronic assault weapons, programmable quantum dots, body-area control networks, graphene wires and nano-razors. These are not inventions of conspiracy culture; they appear in patents, research programmes, and occasional whistleblower testimony.

The result is a kind of total inner depletion among those attempting to bridge the “unrevealed reveal.” Even among the disclosed or declassified material I am aware of, much is too disturbing to simply dump on the general public. I think of my own elderly parents: there is a point where “too much too fast” becomes a cruelty in itself.

They were born during the Second World War, and now find themselves in old age in a strange historical convergence — the unresolved aftermath of that conflict (where, after all, did the Nazis really go?) and what increasingly feels like a pervasive Third World War that quietly infiltrates daily life. In this atmosphere even ordinary activities, like a trip to the supermarket, can feel like a small battle against poisons and propaganda.

I pity the doorstep debt collector, and acknowledge his — unlikely to be her — desire to feed a family, however predatory the task itself may be. The alternative is probably the withdrawal of Universal Credit and the slide into extreme poverty. I look forward to a day of universal high income, where nobody needs to perform such work. A genuine bailiff, enforcing legitimate judgments, can be a noble and necessary role; the industrial manufacture of debt through captive courts is not. I know this is a spiritual war, and the weapons available to us are grace, mercy, and forgiveness.

The situation is madness, and maddening. My own prediction is that there will be a reveal — and soon. Yet I have been saying that for years, and timing has never been my strong suit. Even so, the data suggesting widespread harm from biological agents distributed under false pretences grows daily. The desire for the relief of a reveal, however awful the truth may turn out to be, is therefore rational and empirical. For now, all we can do is make it through each day, remembering that this is a war of attrition, and that the enemy’s greatest hope is that we give up just before the moment of victory.

I know I am supposed to spend today helping friends with legal issues, sending art prints to donors, and processing old “poverty walk” photographs. But my next step is to go for a calming walk, because surviving the madness of the “unrevealed reveal” comes before any of those tasks.

The antidote to the insanity of overlapping cosmologies is to step back into physical reality: feel the wind, touch a tree — and, being me, have some consoling coffee and cake in a cafe.