Time Traveling in the Omniverse (eBook, ePUB)
The Garden of the Architects
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"THE GARDEN OF THE ARCHITECTS"In the year 2099, humanity finally got its ¿¿¿¿ together.After millennia of chaos, confusion, and cat memes, Earth passed its 5D Ascension Audit-by accident. The result? A planet no longer ruled by greed, gaslighting, or grocery lines.No economy existed anymore. People simply thought of what they needed, and it would materialize-provided their particle replicator was big enough. If not, it would be delivered within a minute via quantum drone logistics. No shipping fees. No packaging. No waiting three to five business days.Addresses? Outdated. No one needed one...
"THE GARDEN OF THE ARCHITECTS"
In the year 2099, humanity finally got its ¿¿¿¿ together.
After millennia of chaos, confusion, and cat memes, Earth passed its 5D Ascension Audit-by accident. The result? A planet no longer ruled by greed, gaslighting, or grocery lines.
No economy existed anymore. People simply thought of what they needed, and it would materialize-provided their particle replicator was big enough. If not, it would be delivered within a minute via quantum drone logistics. No shipping fees. No packaging. No waiting three to five business days.
Addresses? Outdated. No one needed one anymore. The entire galaxy had been lovingly transformed into a collection of 5-star hotels, pleasure palaces, and cosmic resorts-each one trying to outdo the others in making you feel like the most adored being in the universe. Healthy competition at its best-luxury, service, and surprise space-chocolates included.
Spaceships? Totally retro now. They've been converted into orbital museums and theme park rides. Once humanity unlocked orb travel-a lightbody-powered, consciousness-controlled form of instant teleportation-fuel, rockets, and layovers were out. Need to attend a rainbow dragon rodeo on Venus or brunch on the 9th moon of Smeg? Just orb and go.
That said, witches still preferred broomsticks. Not because they had to-but because they're awesome. You can't exactly show up to a moonlight ritual riding a replicator pod. Some traditions deserve a bit of flair, after all.
And if you had a sore back from morning titan snowboarding on Neptune, no problem-just play your favorite song. Music was the only doctor needed. Frequencies healed faster than any old pill ever could. Sound baths were literally sound-based bathtubs now.
As for jealousy? It had become the galactic equivalent of trying to fax someone in 2099-just dumb. Everyone was a telepathic empath who genuinely loved themselves, which naturally meant they loved everyone. We are all One, remember? When you see others as reflections of your own divine fractal, there's nothing to compete for-just infinite reasons to celebrate each other.
We are quantum now. That means we could hang out with everyone and be alone at the same time. Introverts rejoiced. Extroverts quantum-mingled. Boundaries became beautiful, bendable art.
This was the Garden of the Architects-a reality blueprint co-designed by humanity after centuries of glorious nonsense and near-misses. Gone were the days of punching clocks, paying taxes, or pretending to enjoy your boss's chili recipe. Now, people co-created reality like artists in a cosmic sandbox-with love, laughter, and an infinite supply of glitter.
No longer weighed down by fear, survival, or Wi-Fi dead zones, humanity had moved beyond linear limitations. Tuesdays were for dolphin karaoke. Thursdays were for downloading soul upgrades. And weekends? Reserved for rewriting planetary storylines with your favorite shapeshifter crew.
The illusion has faded. The Game is on pause.
Time to design what comes next.
In the year 2099, humanity finally got its ¿¿¿¿ together.
After millennia of chaos, confusion, and cat memes, Earth passed its 5D Ascension Audit-by accident. The result? A planet no longer ruled by greed, gaslighting, or grocery lines.
No economy existed anymore. People simply thought of what they needed, and it would materialize-provided their particle replicator was big enough. If not, it would be delivered within a minute via quantum drone logistics. No shipping fees. No packaging. No waiting three to five business days.
Addresses? Outdated. No one needed one anymore. The entire galaxy had been lovingly transformed into a collection of 5-star hotels, pleasure palaces, and cosmic resorts-each one trying to outdo the others in making you feel like the most adored being in the universe. Healthy competition at its best-luxury, service, and surprise space-chocolates included.
Spaceships? Totally retro now. They've been converted into orbital museums and theme park rides. Once humanity unlocked orb travel-a lightbody-powered, consciousness-controlled form of instant teleportation-fuel, rockets, and layovers were out. Need to attend a rainbow dragon rodeo on Venus or brunch on the 9th moon of Smeg? Just orb and go.
That said, witches still preferred broomsticks. Not because they had to-but because they're awesome. You can't exactly show up to a moonlight ritual riding a replicator pod. Some traditions deserve a bit of flair, after all.
And if you had a sore back from morning titan snowboarding on Neptune, no problem-just play your favorite song. Music was the only doctor needed. Frequencies healed faster than any old pill ever could. Sound baths were literally sound-based bathtubs now.
As for jealousy? It had become the galactic equivalent of trying to fax someone in 2099-just dumb. Everyone was a telepathic empath who genuinely loved themselves, which naturally meant they loved everyone. We are all One, remember? When you see others as reflections of your own divine fractal, there's nothing to compete for-just infinite reasons to celebrate each other.
We are quantum now. That means we could hang out with everyone and be alone at the same time. Introverts rejoiced. Extroverts quantum-mingled. Boundaries became beautiful, bendable art.
This was the Garden of the Architects-a reality blueprint co-designed by humanity after centuries of glorious nonsense and near-misses. Gone were the days of punching clocks, paying taxes, or pretending to enjoy your boss's chili recipe. Now, people co-created reality like artists in a cosmic sandbox-with love, laughter, and an infinite supply of glitter.
No longer weighed down by fear, survival, or Wi-Fi dead zones, humanity had moved beyond linear limitations. Tuesdays were for dolphin karaoke. Thursdays were for downloading soul upgrades. And weekends? Reserved for rewriting planetary storylines with your favorite shapeshifter crew.
The illusion has faded. The Game is on pause.
Time to design what comes next.
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