This, indeed this alone, is what revenge is: the will’s resentment against time’s “it was”.  – Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra

The black iron prison is the corpus of the great it as it was; our world is the process metamorphosis, interim, of an insect-like camouflaged, mimicking organism. – Philip K. Dick,  The Exegesis

Time is a prison, history a pre-recorded film in which we are all stuck in time repeating the gestures of automata and puppets. We are it’s pawns. Programs in a universal game, slaves of the time-lords who entrust us to our own hells for their perverse pleasure. There is no escape. Or is there? We are in the midst of a temporal war that has become so ubiquitous that we no longer no victim from perpetrator. Lost among the loops we spiral into our separate black holes of derision like gods who have fallen asleep. Nietzsche in another passage…