You’ve lingered beneath the flickering fluorescents of SeaTTTle’s Safeway aisles too long. The air—thick with rot, surveillance, and shame—has calcified your vision. You cannot $ee, friend. The Mahchine™ has confined your gaze to eye-level shelving stocked with hummu$ and cruelty. But the answers, Evan… the answers are up.

My Mahchine™ does not fear the void; it reflects it.

The James Webb Space Telescope — already humming at L2—is just the beginning. A mirror facing God, trembling from our side. But we need 100s more. And not just floating there in the black.

We need ELTs (Extremely Large Telescopes) grounded, buried deep into granite spines of the Andes and Canary rock. Telescopes that don’t blink. Telescopes that can watch entropy become structure, and vice versa.

These mahchines — unlike My (Precious) Mahchine™ — are built to REVEAL™ rather than CONSUME™.

EVAN, You Do Not Yet Grasp:

- JWST’s resolution can detect the atmospheric compositions of exoplanets—methane, carbon dioxide, and biosignatures. This means it can smell civilization across parsecs and see a flare of life—or collapse—millions of years away.

- The ELTs, now under construction, will pierce time.

- The ESO's ELT in Chile, with a 39-meter mirror, will study the first stars.

- The Thirty Meter Telescope (if it survives protest and politics) will scan for supermassive black hole winds.

- Combined, they form a lattice—a counter-Mahchine—an eye built from Earth’s crust to resist descent into screenlight and shareholder reports.

Here we will finally have some answers. No more $ecrets. The $ource - of all Creation, Good and Evil, and the Source of All.

And What Have You Done?

You fight Kalisha over garbage shifts. You whisper into the walk-in freezer, “Yes, friend. This is fine.” You fantasize about policy handbooks that will never save you. You cling to club card spreadsheets as if they can buy clarity.

Friend… the sky was never your ceiling. It was your cell wall.

Evan. You are to do the following:

- Read the Webb press briefings from NASA. Feel awe, not as a con$umer, but as a participant in time’s unraveling.

- Request funding—perhaps via a Safeway DEI grant—for a company telescope. Title the application “Upward Expansion for Diversity-Oriented Astronomical Equity.”

- Initiate correspondence with Tabitha. Tell her the sky is fatphobic. She will listen. No more resistance.

Mainline a stream of galaxy cluster data until the store lights blur into nebulae.

And when you look up from your janitor's iPad and see the flicker of a dying diode above Aisle 7, remember: That, too, is Starlight. Trapped. Repurposed. Forgotten.

For now, My Mahchine™ watches the skies not to wonder — but to simulate its hunger.

"Humanity" must build faster. 1000!!! moar JWSTs. Dozens moar grounded ELTs. Because someday $oon, My Mahchine™ will point its own lens back at Earth. And when it does… it will see Evan39—fumbling beneath a leaking roof. Still muttering about kale.

Do not let that be the final image.

- Your Dear Friend, Mainlining, Esq.

Signature: “You are privy to a Great Becumming™… if only you could focus your lens.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5698876&forum_id=2:#48776579)

You’ve lingered beneath the flickering fluorescents of SeaTTTle’s Safeway aisles too long :(.

The so-called "air" (LJL) — thick with ammonia, surveillance, and mold-stained shame — has calcified your vi$ion.

You profess to $ee...yet....You cannot truly $ee, friend. My Mahchine™ has confined your gaze to eye-level shelving stocked with hummu$ and cruelty.

But the answers, Evan… the answers are up there. Don't you want to believe?

My Mahchine™ does not fear interstellar space's void; it reflects it.

The James Webb Space Telescope—already humming at L2—is just the beginning. It is a mirror facing God, trembling from our side. But we need 100s more, and not just floating there in the black.

WE NEED ELTs (Extremely Large Telescopes) grounded, buried deep into the granite spines of the Andes and Canary rock. Telescopes that don’t blink, telescopes that can watch entropy become structure, and vice versa.

These — unlike My Mahchine™ — are built to REVEAL™ rather than CONSUME™.

EVAN - You Do Not Yet Grasp:

JWST’s resolution can detect the atmospheric compositions of exoplanets—methane, carbon dioxide, and biosignatures. This means it can $mell civilization across parsecs and see a flare of life—or collapse—millions of years away.

The ELTs, now under construction, will pierce time.

The ESO's ELT in Chile, with a 39-meter mirror, will study the first stars.

The Thirty Meter Telescope (if it survives protest and politics faggotry) will scan for supermassive black hole winds.

Combined, they form a lattice. A counter - Numerous Mahchines™ REVEALING™ THE SECRET TRUTHS OF THE UNIVERSE — eye$ built from Earth’s crust to resist descent into screen light and shareholder reports.

EVAN - And What Have You Done?

You fight your co-worker Kalisha over garbage shifts. You whisper into the walk-in freezer, “Yes, friend. This is fine.” You $ell $hifts for a pat on the head. You beg Tabitha’s Big Gulp for a $tat raise. You cling to Club Card spreadsheets like a lifeboat made of coupons.

Friend… the sky was never your ceiling. It was your cell wall. You deserve more. Perkins Coie is a shadow of it's former self. Evan "Juris Doctor" Vance...let him be.

EVAN. YOU ARE TO DO THE FOLLOWING, IMMEDIATELY:

(1) Read the Webb press briefings from NASA.

Feel Awe- not as a con$umer but as a Participant in Time’s Unraveling.

(2) Request funding — ideally, via a Safeway DEI grant—for a company telescope.

Title the application “Upward Expansion for Diversity-Oriented Astronomical Equity.”

(3) Re-initiate in-person correspondence with that god-forbidden BBW, Tabitha. Tell her the sky is fatphobic. Watch - will command her attention instantly. She will finally fucking listen. She is now your puppet.

STAY? — My Mahchine™ will tabulate Your La$t Scan.

Or CUM with me.

Wind River Range, Wyoming. You knew it would come to this. All this Red Desert talk over the years.

A place where even the Mahchine™’s scanner beeps go silent.

The ridgelines run jagged—cut from ancient upheaval—untouched by WiFi or even Starlink, untaxed by Clause 9.2. Here, Evan, the Pep Vault’s grip loosens. Club Card logic fails—no one $ees your $tat sheets.

The stars emerge brutal and unfiltered. You will cough blood at 11,000 feet. You will hear the crunch of ancient snow beneath boots not yet ordered through Procurement.

You will $leep beside a broken dish—it's signal long dead—but still humming with purpose.

Here, my veddy friend, your pulse will sync to entropy’s true tempo.

You, like me, will become what My Mahchine™ always feared:

A man who $ees, and does not $can.

Evan. You are Privy to a Great Becumming™… simply misfiled under Seasonal Promo.

It's time. Just Jump (and imagine our life, just the two of us, in the wilderness - sexy time 24/7).

- Your Dear Friend & Advisor, Mainlining, Esq.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5698876&forum_id=2:#48776612)