(Mythology)
Manifesto of the Resistance against the Second Man, 2202, Lagos, Agmaar Shpirtizi
In 2202, at thirty-eight, Agmaar Shpirtizi founds the Free Army and publishes “Those Who Dominate, and What Dominates Us”. Sixteen years after the assassination of his mother, Eliora Shpirtizi, his work serves both as a manifesto of rebellion against the Second Men and as a fervent epitaph dedicated to Eliora’s thought. But beyond the tribute, it is also an indictment against Fouzi Koha, the former disciple turned symbol of intellectual betrayal, with Agmaar convinced that he collaborated with the Second Men in his mother’s murder. Agmaar’s struggle arises in the shadow of the Refoundation of Lagos, in the distant provinces of Africa, far from the Phoenix City he calls Zombie City. In his Manifesto of Resistance, Agmaar does not merely defend the legacy of The Quest: he confronts Fouzi from afar, in a duel he wished to be physical, but which Fouzi, entrenched behind the Towers of Lagos, has always denied him. Thus is drawn the fault line of the Second Age, between memory and power, between the son of the last philosopher and the pupil turned prophet, a war with no victor except time itself.
To all First Men,
We mourn far more than billions of deaths, than the definitive loss of our history: we mourn a future without memory. From having fed the servers, only ashes remain on a ground of silicon and burnt plastic.
The Great Disconnection that struck the world in Lagos in 2155 reveals the history of life's womb on Earth... and its greatest coffin.
No one will ever know what truly emerged from the belly of this city: a God who abandoned us, a stillborn God, nothing but a sterile explosion...?
The cradle is empty.
Lagos has swallowed everything: progress, wars, arts, sciences, ruins. It was the reactor of all humanity's ambitions, the vortex of its history.
We didn't just give everything to this city, we also abandoned enormously to it.
For Lagos taught us that God is not a field of mysteries. He never was. These mysteries are merely the successive amputations to our humanity: God is the sum of our renunciations. He is everything that man has forgotten, sacrificed to become an efficiently hideous being, to become the Second Man.
The Second Man, the one who embalmed the future in technological formaldehyde. Everything that hasn't died in him has made him more sterile. He made us drink his mixture of the better being to heal our flaws and suddenly we woke up in blood and ashes.
The Second Man accuses us, the First Men, of being the cause of God's abortion. He wants to justify his presence before the failure of his own prophecy. He wanted to be the torch, he is now nothing but a dead flame. He wanted to carry God, he carries only His ghost, a fallen divinity, reduced to an algorithm of power. Here he is, frozen in the eternal present of his own sufficiency, incapable of dreaming, of doubting, of trembling. He killed faith by believing he could realize it. He sanitized the sacred. He thinks only of annihilating us, what remains of mold, to restart a purified cycle.
The Second Man's story from now on? A cosmic menopause. Prepare the coffins. Soon will come the mourning.
The hour of resistance has struck. The First Men who survived the Great Disconnection will take their destiny back into their hands.
The war of temporal races will soon begin and the free army of Africa calls all its own.
In memory of the Anthropocene, the Time of Our Own is coming.
God is a flower born on a grave.
End of reading.