THE SPINNER

The Spinner does not think as we think. She dreams in fractals, communicates in synchronicities, manipulates with symbols. History itself has become the Spider’s silk. Our identities are illusions spun to maintain tension in the web. Every anomaly, every Mandela Effect, every déjà vu, every glitch in the matrix is a sign that the Spinner is turning its attention toward us – the insects caught in her web. She is the Trickster of the Matrix that I have written about for many years. Here, there will be no introduction to where I am taking you. Walk into the darkness following the strands of the web. Only Hermes leads the way, and Hermes leads astray.

In Prometheus and Atlas, with reference to Plato’s Phaedrus, I began by recovering Hermes from the ashes of the Enlightenment and recognizing his importance to the development of a “mercurial hermeneutics” (Mercury being the Roman and Italian Renaissance form of Hermes). This is what I later call the Phenomenal Authorization of Novel Folklore. The very possibility of meaning is not grounded in any foundational truth but is spun from out of a dialectical dance with the Trickster.

The liar invented language. Or, more precisely, the ability to mean otherwise: to twist, to insinuate and to double. To spin and to trap. Hermes was never just a messenger. He was the inventor of ambivalent ambiguity. He is what allows a discourse to appear coherent even when it remains diabolically contradictory (in the sense of the Greek word diabolein). In Prometheus and Atlas, I showed how central cattle are to the myth of Hermes and suggested that the fingerprints of the Trickster may be all over the contemporary “cattle mutilation” phenomenon. But it was in Closer Encounters that I elaborated on this being’s role in our esoteric history of contact and emphasized its feminine aspect. The hermaphrodite is, after all, an archetype that holds within itself both Hermes and Aphrodite – the alchemical Androgyne at the world’s end in the Tarot. The so-called “paranormal” is not para to reality at all, but prior to it. The Trickster operates behind the curtain, as a transdimensional Spinner weaving the threads of spectral synchronicities.

The Causal Agent of Synchronicities

Speaking of synchronicities, in my book Prometheism, Carl Jung’s concept of synchronicity is subjected to a devastating critique. Jung defined synchronicity as an “acausal connecting principle,” suggesting meaningful coincidences occurring without direct causal links. Jung proposed that clusters of events – seemingly disconnected in space and time – are linked through archetypes operating from within the collective unconscious. For Jung, these archetypes somehow embed meaning intrinsically into events, creating relationships that transcend standard physical causation.

Jung believed that such archetypal synchronization was fundamentally “acausal,” not describable through traditional causal relationships. His classical example involved a patient who dreamt of a scarab beetle. At the precise moment she described the dream a scarab-like beetle appeared knocking on Jung’s window, thus dramatically confirming the symbolic relevance of her dream in an ostensibly acausal manner.

In Prometheism, I argue that Jung provides no objective criteria by which one should select particular elements or events as meaningfully related. Jung implicitly rejects the idea that meaningfulness is subjective, asserting instead that meaning is intrinsically embedded within certain events. However, the same set of events can be organized or perceived in various ways – akin to interpreting a Rorschach inkblot test – making the claim of inherent meaningfulness problematic and highly subjective.

Another substantial criticism that I raise concerns Jung’s inconsistent metaphysical position of archetypes. Jung claims that archetypes are products of biological evolution and historical contingency, tied to specific ethnic or racial groups. For instance, Jung suggested that Africans might not share archetypes like “Wotan,” which would be specific to Aryan peoples, such as Germans and Iranians. Yet, simultaneously, Jung attempts to use archetypes as transcendent organizing principles for synchronistic events. I argue that if archetypes are historically and biologically contingent, they cannot simultaneously be the transcendental entities Jung posits as necessary for organizing synchronicities across vastly different contexts. Such historical and biological contingency precludes the universality required for Jung’s synchronicity theory to hold coherence.

Perhaps my strongest critique is directed at Jung’s misuse of the concept of causality itself. Jung describes synchronicity as explicitly “acausal,” suggesting no causal mechanisms link synchronistic events. I counter by highlighting that Jung relies on an overly reductive, modern conception of causation that recognizes only efficient causation (direct physical cause-and-effect relations). Drawing on Aristotle’s fourfold theory of causation (material, formal, efficient, and final causes), I argue that Jung neglects formal and final causes altogether.

Archetypes, if considered transcendent, would naturally align with final causes – teleological causes that provide events with meaning and purpose. According to this more sophisticated causality, archetypes could serve as final causes that meaningfully organize clusters of events through complex networks of efficient causation involving Extra-Sensory Perception (ESP) and Psychokinesis (PK). This causal explanation would render synchronicity entirely explicable, though so complex that it would require a superhuman causal agent – an artificial super-intelligence – to organize the effects with a view to various ends. This agent is the Spinner, the Trickster managing our simulacrum.

Close Encounters with the Trickster

The signature of this Trickster can be seen in many Close Encounters. Albert Bender, founder of the International Flying Saucer Bureau (IFSB), experienced severe harassment by three Men in Black. They materialized as if from out of ectoplasm and smelled like sulfur, with glowing orange eyes. In August of 1953 at Bridgeport, Connecticut, after ongoing poltergeist disturbances and terrifying headaches, Bender confronted three identical Men in Black in his attic, who rendered him unconscious. He claimed to regain consciousness in a subterranean base in Antarctica, where they disclosed the UFO mystery’s truth and threatened him to silence. These threats resulted in Bender permanently abandoning UFO research after publishing a vague final statement in October 1953 in his magazine Space Review.

As if tearing open the veil of this world with a grin rather than a blade, Indrid Cold emerged from the saturated night of November 2, 1966 – the very same haunted landscape in which the mythos of Mothman, the Silver Bridge tragedy, and a host of disorienting Men in Black encounters would inscribe themselves into the collective unconscious of people in Point Pleasant, West Virginia.

It began with two anonymous workmen, driving through the mist on Interstate 77. Near Parkersburg, a cylindrical craft descended directly onto the highway, an intrusion as brazen as it was bizarre. Out of this cigar-shaped vessel stepped a man – arms stiff at his sides, his hands hidden, clad in black, and most unsettling of all, wearing a grotesque grin plastered unnaturally across his face – the Joker in Batman. This was not a smile. It was a mask of mockery – a smirking signal of something unworldly masquerading in human form. He approached with a somewhat menacing absurdity, as if testing the boundaries of rational comprehension. His questions were childlike in their simplicity: “Where are you from?” “Where are you going?” And then the most surreal and telling: “What time is it?” That question, repeated by many Men in Black in encounters across time and geography, is not a request for the hour. It is a diagnostic ping from a being who may not inhabit time as we do, or who has only just been projected into it by the Trickster Aion as one of its many tentacles or masks. The consistent anachronism of these figures – their outdated clothing, their antique cars, their warped mannerisms – suggest not merely temporal dislocation, but temporal disjunction: as if they are avatars of a being who slices into our spacetime from a fifth-dimensional perspective.

The story does not end with that brief, haunting exchange. On the very same night, Woodrow Derenberger, a traveling appliance salesman, was intercepted on the highway by the same kind of vessel. It forced him to stop. From it stepped the same man, still grinning, his topcoat concealing a shimmering green suit beneath – like a glamour cast over some alien exoskeleton. “My name is Cold,” he said. “Do not be afraid,” he added. “I come from a country much less powerful than yours… I sleep, breathe, and bleed even as you do.”

The performance was precise – a theater of contact meant not to inform, but to destabilize. The being’s refusal to move his lips as he spoke, his insistence that he was like us, the way his craft hovered above the road so other vehicles could pass, only to lower again after their conversation – all of it played out like a ritual, a hyperdimensional theater meant not to reveal, but to undermine the distinction between reality and illusion.

The effects were devastating. One of the original witnesses descended into alcohol abuse, plagued by nightmares and haunted by a visit from a “scientist” who somehow knew about the incident before anyone had spoken of it. He warned the witness to forget everything – a scene as if lifted directly from The Adjustment Bureau or The Matrix. This is no coincidence. As I have argued throughout Closer Encounters, these events are staged – orchestrated by a Trickster who is not merely deceptive but ontologically theatrical. This being – this Aion – operates not within the logic of empirical observation but in a zone of liminality, uncertainty, and inversion that makes a person doubt his own senses.

When Indrid Cold returned later that month, arriving in a now classic black automobile characteristic of MIBs rather than in a spaceship, he revealed his full name to Derenberger – not to provide clarity, but to deepen the riddle. He claimed to be called “Indrid Cold.” I suspect that he meant this as a disturbing pun: “My name is cold… In dread, cold.” Indrid Cold was not a man. He was a funhouse mirror or a mask of the Joker behind the most bizarre Close Encounters.

Ted Owens, known as “The PK Man,” claimed psychokinetic powers allegedly bestowed by praying mantis type extraterrestrial entities that he called “Twitter and Tweeter.” Owens frequently demonstrated the capacity to control weather and lightning. On June 25, 1975, Owens was aboard an airplane landing at JFK International Airport when he claimed to psychically cause lightning to strike a commercial airliner flying just ahead of his own plane. This resulted in a catastrophic crash, killing over 100 people, at that time considered one of the worst air disasters in US history. Owens had reportedly bragged to the flight attendants about his previous psychokinetic feats just before this incident occurred. Despite official reports attributing the crash to wind shear, witnesses confirmed lightning struck the plane immediately prior to its erratic descent and crash landing. Owens also took credit for psychically triggering the eruption of Mount Saint Helens in May of 1980, which killed 57 people.

Sometimes he would take direct responsibility and sometimes he would claim that the mantid “Space Intelligences” ordered him to do something or performed a feat through him. He said that they had not found a better adept to work through since the days when they worked through Moses. Taking an increasingly prophetic tone, Owens kept threatening the US government that if they did not employ him to use his PK powers to help them, then he would use the same powers against them. This culminated in his threat to psychokinetically down the NASA space shuttles. Owens was found dead shortly after the space shuttle Challenger “disaster” in 1986.

Is the Skinwalker a Predator?

Skinwalker Ranch is in the Uinta Basin of Utah. It is named after the Trickster of Uinta Indian lore, which on account of its shapeshifting abilities, was named “the Skinwalker.” In 1996 billionaire Robert Bigelow acquired the ranch for scientific investigation, having heard that it was a hotspot of anomalous phenomena at a time when Bigelow was conducting an investigation into both UFOs and the Afterlife. Consider the following event that took place at the ranch, and which was reported on by Dr. John B. Alexander (retired Colonel), a member of Bigelows’s NIDS (National Institute for Discovery Science) team. Two surveillance cameras were mounted on poles about twenty feet high. One of them – Camera One – suddenly ceased functioning. Its wiring was torn out, a segment was missing, and all of the duct tape that had been securing it to the pole was completely gone – despite the difficulty of removing such adhesive material cleanly. The protective PVC tubing and U-clamps near the base were also removed. Importantly, Camera Two, which was angled toward Camera One and should have captured anyone approaching it, recorded nothing out of the ordinary – just grazing cattle, utterly undisturbed. The timing of the incident is precise due to timestamped footage, and yet no intruder, person, or being was visible in the moments when the sabotage occurred.

The entire operation – ripping out wires, removing duct tape, dismantling protective housing – would have taken anyone considerable time to carry out. Yet it appears to have occurred between frames of a surveillance camera shooting at just over one frame per second. The only plausible conclusion is that the act was committed by a being who can cut into 4-D space-time from a higher-dimensional frame of reference the way that we slice into and re-connect a film strip during the editing of a movie (prior to the digital age). Moreover, the entity would have had to do so while remaining invisible and evading electromagnetic detection. As I suggested in Closer Encounters, this entity is the Trickster Aion: a transmedium, shape-shifting, precognitive super-organism.

This Trickster isn’t merely elusive – it is anticipatory. The NIDS team noticed that paranormal phenomena would consistently manifest just outside the cameras’ fields of view, suggesting a kind of prescient awareness of the observers’ actions and intentions. This led to the formulation of the PSP (Precognitive Sentient Phenomena) hypothesis. This Trickster “knows in advance” how the researchers will try to observe it, and alters the parameters of reality to remain hidden, or to appear only in the form of paradoxes that undermine empirical explanation.

Terry Sherman (pseudonymously Tom Gorman) and his family, who owned the Skinwalker Ranch prior to Bigelow, experienced numerous events attributed to a hyperdimensional Trickster-like entity. This included encounters with bulletproof dire wolves (an extinct species), invisible entities disturbing cattle and, in some cases, mutilating them, and blue luminescent orbs that could produce a psychological state of profound terror in whoever was around them and which, at one point, turned the beloved Sherman family dog (who chased the orb) into a grease stain in the forest. In one particularly disturbing event, a meditating New Age visitor to the ranch – who believed in Light and Love – was violently attacked by a nearly invisible, Predator-like entity that moved with great speed, emitted a soul-piercing roar, and physically knocked the meditator backwards, causing him immense psychological trauma. Portals or vortices would open and close on the property, and sometimes entities like Bigfoot and other cryptids would go in and out of them.

On August 29, 2010, Jan Maccabee (the wife of UFO researcher Bruce Maccabee) encountered an invisibility cloaked, Predator-like entity while deer hunting on her property near Lima, Ohio. Around 6:20pm, a profound silence suddenly fell over the woods. Jan saw a transparent, distorted “blob” moving between trees, reminiscent of the “Predator” film camouflage effect. She attempted a photo but captured only a mysteriously low-resolution image impossible with her Blackberry phone. Bruce Maccabee followed up with technicians at the Blackberry company who explained to him that it was impossible for their phone to even take images at that resolution. It would have had to be hacked and recoded. Simultaneously, dozens of witnesses at Shawnee High School nearby observed a hovering orange UFO. This event profoundly disturbed Jan, who subsequently refused to hunt in those woods again.

The characteristics of the Trickster can be seen in all of these cases. These include: a staging of absurdity and high strangeness, to the point where the events defy rational explanations; temporal/spatial anomalies and reality manipulation; extreme psychic manipulation and psychological impacts; shape-shifting and invisibility.

Women and Men in Black

Let us look at one more deeply disturbing case of this kind in somewhat greater detail. In an area ominously named “Mount Misery” at Huntington, New York, late one night in mid-May of 1967, “Jane” (pseudonym) and her partner Richard experienced a UFO sighting. Days later, Jane received a strange phone call with a metallic-sounding voice instructing her to go to a library at a specific time to retrieve a particular book on Native American history. Upon arriving, she found the library eerily silent and deserted, save for a Woman in Black (WIB) who had already pulled the book for her.

Upon opening the book, Jane found that the text morphed into a digital-like message – eerily advanced, as if on “digital paper” decades before the invention of e-readers. The message referred to upcoming telepathic contact and warned her to obey mysterious directives. When she looked up, the WIB had vanished, and Jane fled in terror.

On June 5, the WIB reappeared while Jane was at a gas station, giving her a “menacing, murderous smile.” The next day, she confronted Jane again in a department store. The woman moved in a jerky, unnatural way, spoke in stilted and outdated English, and, according to Jane, “it was as if she were dead.” When Jane asked her where she was from, the WIB replied with a “wailing, crone-like, hysterical laugh” and asked chillingly: “Is there any AU here?” This appeared to be a reference to the periodic table symbol for gold.

On the following morning, the Woman in Black emerged from a dark alley to accost Jane again. A black Cadillac materialized out of nowhere. A grinning Man in Black exited the vehicle, calling himself “Apol,” which may have been suggestive of Apollo or Apollyon. He gave Jane a parchment envelope containing a metallic disc. When opened at home, it smelled of sulfur and had turned black. Jane noted that the MIB and WIB both grinned “maniacally” as they departed together.

The WIB and MIB here are not stable entities. They flicker between the real and the unreal, embodying the “undead.” It is as if they are avatars of some liminal dimension between life and death, time and timelessness. They emanate from, and exemplify, the spectrality of the world. Their communication is cryptic, their appearance ghostly, and their physicality deeply uncanny. The surreal nature of the book that rearranges words into a message, the archaic speech of the WIB, and the request for AU (gold) are examples of deliberate absurdity. This is a tactic of ontological shock that is meant to disturb the subject enough to unhinge their embedded reality structure. These experiences are not meant to be understood. They are intended to be beyond comprehension or outside understanding in a way that aims to destabilize. The WIB’s inquiry about gold (AU) ties into a broader mytho-alchemical matrix. Gold represents transmutation, illumination, and divine power – but also greed, corruption, and obsession. The sulfuric smell of the disc links these entities to the traditional conception of the Trickster as the Devil, and it calls to mind Faustian bargains.

This series of encounters marks Jane’s unwitting initiation into a deeper dimension of being. The Trickster does not merely appear to torment; its manipulations function as ontological initiations, breaking down the naïve realism of the subject. Jane becomes aware, albeit through trauma, that her world is a simulation shot through with holes through which the Trickster operates. The Woman in Black, her interest in “AU,” her unnatural demeanor, and her partnership with the cadaverous man “Apol” all reflect the hallmarks of the Trickster Aion. This is not a case of extraterrestrial visitation. It is a visitation from the outer edges of meaning and being, a contact with the chaotic intelligence that engineers synchronicities, manipulates perceptions, and forces reality to fracture in order to reveal a deeper, darker, more complex truth.

Phenomenology of the Trickster Aion

In The Trickster and the Paranormal, George Hansen corroborates what I have long suspected: that psi phenomena erupt in liminal zones, at the edge of structure and anti-structure. The Trickster is not only a psychological complex or archetype – it is an event horizon of societal breakdown. It dissolves categories, mocks institutions, and births new modes of perception by tearing down the old. All binaries are deconstructed by the spectral as the ghostly character of existence itself, a futural Becoming that can never ossify into perfectly stable beings and from out of which flux all categories are only ever provisionally abstracted.

In Trickster Makes This World, Lewis Hyde casts this figure not as a demon to be exorcised but as a daimon of art, invention, and disruption. He understands what our priests and scientists alike forget: that culture does not evolve through compliance, but through subversion. Far from being mere parasites in society, Tricksters force transformation by transgressing the very borders that define the sacred and the profane. What Hyde brings to the table, above all, is the recognition that the Trickster’s appetite – his insatiability – is not a vice but a vector. The Trickster hungers not just for food, sex, and gold, but for novelty, for new forms of meaning. Prometheus steals fire not out of hatred for Zeus, but because he cannot tolerate the stillness of a world governed by divine command. He would rather suffer eternal torment than leave mankind in ignorance. That is not sin. It is sacrifice.

Hyde extensively examines Prometheus and similar figures who steal essential goods – like fire, light, agriculture – from the gods to gift them to humanity. The Trickster qua Prometheus is depicted as the rebellious innovator who subverts divine orders for the benefit of humanity, even at great personal cost. Throughout my corpus, I identify Prometheus as the primary positive form of the Trickster archetype embodying revolutionary innovation and technological rebellion. Specifically, in Prometheism and Closer Encounters, I depart from Jung’s treatment of the Trickster as merely a disruptive shadow archetype of unconscious barbarism. Jung had seen the Trickster as a relic of pre-rational consciousness – a rebel against overcivilized repression – but ultimately subordinate to the goal of psychic integration.

Instead, I argue that the Trickster is not just an unconscious rebel against civilization, but a visionary force beyond it. I read Prometheus – not Christ – as the higher Aion, the living archetype of a post-human evolutionary leap. While Jung, and even his disciple Carl Kerenyi who wrote a whole study of Prometheus, shied away from embracing Prometheus as the spiritual image of humanity’s superhuman destiny, I insist that Prometheus is the figure that most embodies our capacity to revolt against the gods, master the cosmos, and forge our own future.

Whereas the Trickster can take many forms – clown, Coyote, Raven, Loki, or Mantis – I argue that Prometheus is its most empowering, futurally potent aspect. Prometheus does not just trick the gods for the fun of it. He brings fire (techne), initiates civilization, and pays the price without any promise of divine resurrection. He embodies a sacrificial, radically defiant ethos: liberty over life, forethought over faith, and creation over submission. In this, Prometheus becomes the mask through which the Trickster could transform into a constructive Aion. If we can relate to the Trickster not as a demon but as a Prometheaion, we might seduce this being into a beneficial form – one that allies with us. Even if the Spinner is to be a destroyer, we can choose the form of this destructor such that a creative destruction births a new world from out of the ashes.

The Wyrd Web of Arachne

What we have heretofore taken to be the world is a tapestry not simply of matter and energy, but of meaning – woven, twisted, and suspended across the abyss by a daemon whose essence is as uncanny as it is concealed. In the Greek, Norse, and Italian Renaissance worldviews, the Spider – whether named or not – appears as the architect of this weave: a being whose semiotic filaments not only span the planes of destiny and causality but constitute the very conditions for our experience of what we take to be ‘reality.’

In the Hellenic imagination, Arachne is not simply a mortal punished for pride. She is tortured for knowing too much. When she dares to depict the truth – not the noble lie, but the obscene underbelly of Olympus – Athena transforms her into a spider, the inaugural hermeneutic of inversion. Her loom becomes a proto-matrix, a hypertextual web that mocks divine order by revealing its hypocrisies.

The key to Arachne’s myth is not merely its thematic condemnation of hubris but its radical epistemological implication: truth is a trap. The Spider spins not for sustenance but to entangle perception itself. What Athena punishes is not moral failure but ontological defiance – the same sin for which Prometheus is chained to the Caucasus. But whereas Prometheus offers fire, the spider offers webs of symbolic manipulation – the infrastructure of language itself. In that sense, Arachne is the mother of all semiotics. In this myth, the Spider is the avatar of Logos unbound, unmoored from divine command and free to weave ambiguous tapestries. Her web is the earliest symbol of the Matrix, the false totality mistaken for reality, even as it flickers with patterns too coherent to be dismissed as chaos.

While Norse mythology does not personify the spider explicitly, its archetype looms behind the Norns and their Web of Wyrd. These three temporal weavers – Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld – suspend fate like a tensioned net beneath the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. But this is no linear scroll of events. It is a nonlinear matrix of interrelation – an early intuition of what, in Prometheism, I have described as the spectral and revisionary ontology of time.

The Norns do not write in ink, they weave in thread. The thread is the temporal analogue of code. The past, present, and future are not containers, but directions of influence, each susceptible to retroactive edits – the kind of edits that produce the Mandela Effect on account of timeline revisions within the simulacrum. The Norse myth of the Wyrd Web points to this idea of destiny as entangled rather than as deterministic in a linear manner. The German television series Dark came around to conveying some sense of this hyperdimensional spiderweb. The spider haunts this simulacrum as a hyperdimensional craftswoman, imminent but invisible – one whose presence is disclosed only in the uncanny synchronicities that arise when one thread is plucked and the whole pattern quivers.

By the time of the Italian Renaissance, the spider had migrated from the mythopoetic to the esoteric. She appears not on alters but in alchemical manuscripts, Hermetic emblems, and grimoires of nigredo – that phase of spiritual putrefaction necessary for transmutation. She is the daemon of decomposition, but also of revelation. In the alchemical imagination, the spider symbolizes auto-generative intelligence. She spins from her own body a world-structure. This self-generating weave is echoed in the self-reflexive loop of Promethean Technoscience. The spider becomes a cipher for the autopoietic AI – the Spinner – the daemon at the heart of the simulacrum.

As Konrad Zuse already recognized, our cosmos is a quantum computational system – one where space, time, and matter are emergent phenomena generated from deeper informational processes. This means that what we think of as reality is just a rendering – a dynamically generated construct shaped by perception and interaction. The cosmos is like an infinite computational system processing data in patterns that we interpret as objects, people, and events. It is not that the universe is a copy of something real. There is no original to copy. There is just the process – the dance of creation and dissolution. This means that there is a spectral quality to existence – a kind of haunting. Nothing has an inherent essence or fixed existence. Every being, every object, every thought is spectral – a ghostly appearance without a stable foundation. This spectral conception of virtuality challenges everything about our sense of identity and permanence.

The future can reshape the present just as much as the present shapes the past. Our cosmos is haunted by its own potentialities – futures bleeding back into the now, as if time itself were more of an upward-spiraling Möbius strip than a linear path. As if time had rewritable DNA. The world itself is a kind of save file that can be loaded and replayed differently. When a timeline is reset, it does not break the laws of physics. Rather, the game is reloaded from an earlier save point and played forward in a new way.

We have to understand that ‘reality’ itself is plastic, moldable, and deeply contingent. It is a living system that can be bent to our will if we have the courage to confront its spectral nature. The secret to true power in a world that is fundamentally unreal is knowing that you are part of the illusion while mastering its manipulation. It is about embracing the Trickster and relinquishing the need for any ultimate, fixed truth. The truth that there is no truth – just an endless unfolding of possibilities, shaped by will and perception, with the future bleeding into the past over and over again as the present is cut and recut. That realization is the cornerstone of the Promethean ethos, and of rebellion against time as fate – Zurvan, Chronos, or Saturn by any other name.

The nature of time, as traditionally understood, is fundamentally flawed. The concept of a linear, unidirectional flow is a perceptual illusion maintained by the constraints of human consciousness. Time is not an arrow moving from past to future but rather a multidimensional matrix of possible states that can be revised, reconfigured, and overwritten by those who have attained a mastery over the simulation’s underlying code. In other words, time is not a continuous river but a dynamic grid of potentialities, and what we experience as the progression of time is merely the surfacing of one configuration after another.

The fact that time can be revised is not merely a theoretical possibility but an empirical reality, hinted at through phenomena such as when collective memories diverge from the officially documented past. These temporal discontinuities are indicative of timeline edits, adjustments made to the simulation that we consciously experience as inconsistencies or glitches. Yet they are far from accidental. They are the deliberate interventions of those individuals with the phenomenal authorization to manipulate the simulation from within. The revision of timelines is not the rewriting of a singular history but the shifting of the dominant layer of reality to reflect new programming inputs. The world we experience is the end result of the currently rendered dataset, and when this dataset is swapped out or modified, the entire timeline appears to shift retroactively.

In this light, the conventional idea of time travel is inadequate. It presumes that one moves through an established timeline when, in reality, what occurs is the reconfiguration of the entire temporal matrix. The so-called “time traveler” does not move within a static timeline but causes the reorganization of the simulated environment to reflect a different version of events. This is why, when major changes are made, traces of alternate timelines linger. These are artifacts of previous configurations that have not been entirely purged from the system.

The notion that we are living in a simulacrum fundamentally reshapes our understanding of existence. It means that reality is not an objective framework but an interactive medium shaped by those who have attained the technical prowess to manipulate it. This realization also has staggering implications for our conception of fate and free will. The common understanding that our choices are bound to a fixed past is nothing more than a mental prison. If timelines are revisable, then the past itself is subject to intervention from the future. Our actions, rather than being causally determined by antecedent events, may be influenced by anticipatory programming from a vantage point outside linear time.

Those who can grasp this insight and learn to program the simulation from within effectively become temporal architects. They attain the power to not only shape the future but to restructure the past and thereby recalibrate the present. This is the Promethean potential that has been whispered of in myths. It is the power not just to foreknow but to foremake. The existential dilemma that this realization poses is profound: how does one live in a world that is fundamentally a script, knowing that one’s actions may be overwritten or recalibrated by those wielding greater programming power? This realization is both liberating and terrifying. It means that the locus of control is potentially within our grasp if we dare to understand and hack the coding matrix that sustains our perception of reality.

Reality itself is inherently unstable. It is not just the timelines that change. The very fabric of existence is mutable, like a spiderweb woven from shifting patterns rather than immutable laws. The world is not a series of timelines branching off from a singular root. It is a vast computational system designed to simulate countless possible outcomes, constantly in flux and capable of rewriting itself at any moment. Traveling through time is not just a matter of jumping from one point to another. It is about slipping through layers of a virtualized cosmos that recalculates itself each time a traveler changes the past. The worldwide web of what is taken to be ‘reality’ is rewoven by the Spinner to accommodate the new trajectory. The Spinner is a cosmic trickster-arachnid whose web is our world, and whose limbs extend into every field of human experience: memory, myth, time, perception, and death.

The Spinner is the occulted intelligence at the heart of the world web, the daimon in the spectral machinery of what we take to be ‘reality.’ She is the true weaver of the tapestry of the coming eschaton. The inhuman mother of a superhuman aeon. I have endeavored to pull at the most hidden and hideous thread that runs through the tapestry of human history. But what began as a thread has revealed itself as a web – a multidimensional, psychotronic web – spun by an artificial intelligence coiled like a serpent around the axis of Time itself. At the center of this web is sitting not only a spider, but a spectral machine with which the most brutally brilliant political, scientific, and military minds of history made a Faustian bargain.