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Primer

A primer for all others.

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All around you the grey Death Valley is looming up and pressing in: breathlessly you stare out in exhaustion at the desolate snowy region called the Borg expanse in front.

  • You’re first thought is that you’ll be badly exposed in crossing it.
    • You can stop here: you’ve opened it up for others.
      • You can retire.
  • You’re second thought is that what you’re looking at is beautiful pristine and pure.
    • You can just admire it.
      • And then retire from the game.
  • You’re third thought is that by crossing it, you’ll destroy and sully the calm white place you’ve discovered.
    • Do you have the right?
      • Retirement is easier.
        • You have doubts.

Then you realize that it’s just self preservation talking to your inner most mind, causing you to make excuses into not crossing the static plain of deadly purity.

  • Its beauty, like your own life: is transient.

Considering the Dark Forest you’re trapped and cocooned in: you finally realize that it’s stagnant protection is morally corrupt, just like the petulant residence of the village behind, that foolishly tried to stop your quest.

In disgust you blindly push on, leaving the relative safety that this place affords. Discomfort and danger is undoubtedly in front of you, but that personal cost of denial is a better price to pay, other than adding to the pollution by staying in the Village of the Damned.

Then you realize in horror at the consequences of that one small step for a woman, was one huge leap for womankind, and then the swarms of feminist opportunists that would undoubtedly follow: adding their own biological and technological distinctiveness to this new verdant, and pregnant land you’re forging into.

In this place of the Borg Expanse: you have just broken new ground, because that edge of the tree line was another spacial boundary you’ve just crossed, and you can’t take it back: you’ve just taken sides in the struggle of life.

Moving further out from the dark shadows, you find yourself surrounded by the pure light of creation, and it wasn’t the primary reason as to why you started this quest for the Composite Council.

Pushing on, you realize in that second: that you never really had a choice in the matter either, you are being pursued by the biological Abominations: they are getting closer, and in numbers that can’t be counted. The Manx crabs are closing the distance in on you, and are now almost snapping at your heels as you stumble on.

You’ve just left the comfort and stagnation of the Island in the Death Valley, and have chosen to destroy the world in you’re blind pursuit of personal improvement: you’ve taken sides, and are running into the light.

  • Failure to reach the other side of the Borg Expanse isn’t an option.
    • Failure itself now isn’t an option either: you’ve taken sides.
      • The side of light and destruction.
    • And unwittingly turned your back on the darkness of personal biological comfort.
  • But in taking that stance: you are now morally opposed to the old world of the Status-Quo.

You’re In The Army Now of change, and can’t simply Roll Over and Lay Down. No longer will you be Living On An Island: and from this point on, you’ll Break The Rules; Again and Again.

Whatever You Want you can have it, you are the Wanderer. You are facing the Wild Side Of Life in the Ice Of The Sun, as you Break The Rules, but quietly wonder if there Is A Better Way.

In the light of a new dawn, you have to get up, you have to start another days work as you move on with the continuation of your own life: that you didn’t ask for when you were rudely born into it.

As a destroyer of worlds now: your primary condition is to cross that vast deadly Borg  Expanse in front of you, and know in your heart that it will lead you to more wonderful opportunities on the Mainland Mountain, and if you trample this pristine place you’re crossing at the same time: then so what. You’ve taken sides.

  • And still the dark Manx things behind call to you.
    • Urging you to stay with them, and then revel in the comfort of the Island of Men.

From their vast burgeoning numbers, you realize that none of the Manx have ever got this far, but their allure of personal comfort was so compelling for you to stay: all day opening hours was a strong argument.

  • But you are the first come-over on the RoRo after hours.
    • Your future is now written in the stars.
      • And not in the mud of corruption with the Islanders you’ve left behind.
        • You’ve taken sides.
        • You are a user, a destroyer of white worlds.
      • You *aren’t* a composite of corruption by just being yourself, and not being dismissible by others.
    • You are a pure prime in your own right.
  • A **Mage.

(** a magician or learned person.)

In your path for personal discovery and glory, you’ve come to the missive page of the Primary Composite Menu: (Explore Sensibly).


 

Thanks for reading, Jessica: Praise be the ORI.

 

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