Why are we here? we ask ourselves that all the time, is it to escape our mediocrity, to give a reason for our suffering. To create better version of ourselves through our children, to honour god? or to find a meaning by ourselves?
Why are we here? Why do we want to know? and what would we do if we really got the answer? would we listen even if we dislike the answer?
What if i told you that we are here not build great things nor to find happiness, nor are we to fix the world nor find the truth. The reason we are here, living, the reason why you are here listening to my words. Is only to play a tiny part in a little exhibition for a mediocre artist.
In the galaxy NGC 4151, 52 million years away from earth, on 66 of the 126.7 multidimensional planes resides Zheuuct elevator fidfidorti, that is not his real name but it is the closest we can come to pronounce his name. Zheuuct is also not a he, but if we had to define him he would chose to be a he. He is also a moron, a loser and sexually* frustrated (like many he's), but thats not the reason why he is a he.
Zheuuct is an artist, or at least a poor attempt to that what within his species comes the closest to the approximation of what we call an artist. Zheuuct is not respected nor liked by his fellow shoh (the tentacle like sentient species to which he belongs). Zheuuct is in his last year** of artist education, and after procrastinating for almost two semesters he has been forced by his supervisor to deliver an exposition or be forced out of his dddddddihiiiimmm -otaaotaaaotaaa (scholarship money).
Zheuuct made earth as an exhibition, but not only earth, he also made us. The purpose of the exhibition is for us living to recite the first stanza of the sacred shoh text of truth (it has a different name but the approximation to its real name is so long that we would need 5 times all the paper that exists and will exist on earth only to print it).
How are we supposed to recite it if most shoh names are unpronounceable in our human tongue? well more than recite them we are going to write them. The shoh's alphabet is three-dimensional (3D) and therefore possible for us to write. Zheuuct intended for us to write the first stanza in a temporal linear manner. But he wanted that we wrote the sacred text not with our hands but with our poo's.
Zheuuct designed each and every one of our intestines. Specifically so that they were able of generating excrement of the exact form of one of the letters within the shoh's sacred text of truths. From the letters with elegant curves, to the spirals, the simple lines and the spotted ones, all of them letters were made available for our anuses to mold thanks to Zheuuct careful layout plans.
Not only that but Zheuuct designed our intestines so that they create the right letter in the sequence given the available food. So when the 14055000053 letter has been written with hard painful poo somewhere in Scandinavia, immediately after letter 14055000054 has been freshly pooed as diarrhea in a place nearer to the Ecuador. Every letter in the first stanza is written by a poo and followed by the next letter in a timely manner. It might seem to us that many poos happen at the same time, but if we look at the closest milimilimili atomic second, we could see every letter appearing and disappearing in a timely manner.
This sounds far fetched but if you think about it the signs were always there. Why is it that poo smells so bad? it only smells bad because Zheuuct wanted to create a creative contrast by writing the sacred revered text of the shoh's , the most ultimate and sacred truth in the universe, with the nasty smell of defecation. If the poo is not smelly and disgusting there is no artistic contrast.
To achieve this melody of excrement Zheuuct has meticulously planned every intestine from the genetic code. So he has not only planned the intestines of the first humans that lived in this world, but he also planned their progeny. He planned their sexual preferences so that the genetic materials of a given sperm making human would recombine themselves with the genetic material of an specific menstruating human. All of this so that the combined genetic material would produce the offspring with the perfect intestines to continue the chain of poo letters needed in the timeline at a given moment. Zheuuct planned the emotions that ended up creating every wanted and unwanted child. Every kiss and every finger touching another finger was planned by Zheuuct. In this way every love story in the history of humanity is just a mechanism, a little wheel that makes the poo machine make a letter.
Zheuuct not only planned how we reproduced, but he planned every single event in the history of earth. He chose carefully all the atoms that made earth and positioned earth at a distance from the sun, so that life evolved with the specific intestines he imagined and with the specific nutrients available that were necessary for us to make the needed letters in the sequence.
Every event, every war, every party in the history of humanity was planned for Zheuuct so that an specific intestine ate a certain food at an specific time to make an specific poo at an specific moment. In this manner the whole history of humanity is just a movement, a spin of the wheel to make the poo machine make a letter.
If it was not obvious, humans are not the only beings playing the poo sequence, dolphins, cats, flies, lizards, cows and Macron/Obrador/Rutte/Biden voters all play a part in the poo sequence.
Why do we die? we die because Zheuuct does not need us to poo forever. We just need to poo our part of the sequence and leave. In this way the biggest existential threat, the biggest fear, our deepest pain, the most horrible horror our primate minds can envision is only a feature, a lazy shortcut made by the inventor of the machine that makes the poo make a letter.
All of this sounds very complicated, but for the shoh everything that Zheuuct did is extremely easy, its not only easy but also extremely lazy, this is why Zheuuct is not a figurative artist, but rather a conceptual artist. Without concept there is no way that Zheuuct could sell his little planet experiment as art.
For Zheuuct the real artistic beauty comes from the fact that the first stanza in the sacred text of shoh's has the meaning of existence as a motif. He finds ironic that in a given planet all of the existing sentient life only reason for existing is to write about a text that talks about the meaning of existence, and that the beings writing this text that explains existence as a whole can not understand what the text means nor are they aware that they are writing it and how their relationship with that text explains their existance.
Zheuuct laughs at the arrogance of humans. With their self-indulgent creation myths where we are always at the centre of everything. Humans think that they are god's favourite sons. But in reality they are not even a second plate. They are a dirty ketchup tissue on a pond.
Zheuuct says he is interest in truth, in reality he just wants to not fail his course and if possible impress a female*** member of his species enough so that they have sex with him. None of these things will happen though.
In the end Zheuuct exhibition will get horrible reviews. The whole irony thing is not as clever as Zheuuct thinks. Very few people see the exhibition but the ones that go only go to make fun of it. It will go so bad that Zheuuct supervisor will recommend him to change careers and Zheuuct will listen to him.
Outside of the art hall, two classmates of Zheuuct discuss what they saw. The first one will say
- what a waste of atoms,
The other one agrees but then remembers something. She thinks back to a single sequence in the chain of poos... in this sequence, the system created a human, and this human by pure random chance created a story that completely described Zheuuct's exhibition. The story that the bald ape made talked about Zheuuct, how the exhibition went, why was life created and how a human would write a story about the exhibition. The human that wrote the story, however, as well as all the other humans that later read the story did not know that the story was true. It was just pure coincidence that the human wrote that story.
There was something to this intestinal loop, referencing itself and creating a truth that is not recognised as truth she thought..
The classmate did not have a lot of time to entertain this and other thoughts because her friend asked her if she wanted to go to a party.. she said yes, and as the voices of the classmates of Zheuuct got lost in the vastness of space, the text that the ape that was like Zheuuct became closer to being finished. But even though the human was close to finish and type the last letter of the story, the chain of poos that his story talked about would continue through the ages, sometimes noisy, sometimes quiet, but always smelly.
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*[The specie's of Zheuuct, the shoh's do not habitat the sexual dynamics we know in this planet. Shoh's reproduction involve many steps, but for a shoh's like Zheuuct to reach sexual grafitification it is required for one of the compatible 3 starter partners to collect the sexual spores that hang in Zheuuct testicles and plant them in the second intermediary receptive partner]
**[On Zheuucts home planet a year is made out of 763 days and a day lasts 1.2 earth days]
