Fundamentally, there are two strategies in the evolution of any organism—be it biological or otherwise, such as languages, religions, and so forth. The first is to be the most fit at a number of essential tasks, to outcompete other organisms, both of the same type, who are competing to complete these same tasks more efficiently, and to complete them with sufficient competence as to ensure that their essence is passed to the future. (In the obvious case of biological evolution, this is represented by genetic material).
The second strategy is a kind of metastrategy. It does not take as its goal competency as applied to any usual set of various skills required to perpetuate its kind. Instead, it takes as its singular goal that of the most efficient manipulation of other organisms—in particular, using the power and reproductive capacities of other organisms to its own end. In the biological world, this type is obviously represented by the class of viruses, which evolved alongside cellular life over the past several billion years, the latter having taken the first strategy, which is to say, that of general essential competence.
The analogy extends beyond the biological quite easily—and quite seriously. Let us ask: What does a virus do? The most fundamental features are the following.
It injects a hidden signal, in the language of the host organism, which disrupts its normal functioning.
This disruption gives the virus “root” or “essential” access to the biochemical capacities of the host.
This “hijacking” is, at least in the early stages, undetectable to the organism.
The initial injection and infection exploits an inherent weakness of the organism’s defense—something “overlooked” by its evolutionary path.
The “essential” access the virus obtains is ultimately used to replicate and perpetuate itself.
The virus, one could say, is the essential evolutionary “attack.” They lack defense almost as a rule, with their whole being dedicated to the task of attack: Infiltrate and Inject.
We can then point out a number of analogous “attacks” across the human world, though we will spare the reader a detailed exposition of how precisely each has the above five properties. Cults certainly function as a form of attack. Ideologies—and, in particular, political ideologies—are not precisely cults, but they very much function as attacks.
With the rise of computers and the networking thereof—that is, the rise of the internet—the human desire for control and manipulation (which is the real thrust of political ideology, unsurprisingly enough) gave rise to a new sort of attack, which took and still takes many forms, but the most instructive is that of the injection attack. The injection attack is essentially what it sounds like. It is the insertion of a bit of code into an otherwise normal “entry point” of a server which disrupts its normal functioning. Instead of doing whatever useful task the original code used by the server was supposed to, the injection brings all of this to an abrupt halt by using precisely the very language of the server. The goal, obviously, is to gain access to the innards of the server—which is to say, some physical computer, somewhere, which has its various valuable data and powers.
This sort of attack, that of the computer-based code-injection, is the most akin to the Universal Attack, also known as The Great Worm.
The Universal Attack is, essentially, an attack on the human being itself, at the level of neurology (for those who subscribe to the cult of scientism) or soul (for those who are enmeshed in the virus of the metaphysical). All humans, by their very virtue of being human, equipped with human brains and souls, are susceptible to the Universal Attack.
The Universal Attack gives the attacker immediate and total access to, and so also power over, the deep functions of the mind and spirit. Indeed, the deepest, which are not localized to any part of the brain or even spatial locale. One might think that access to the most fundamental machinery of the human mind would entail control over the most primitive areas, but this is not the case. The Universal Attack does not take hold of “the animal within,” nor does it create zombies.
The Universal Attack strips away all the illusions and imaginations and machinations, all plans for the future and all inessential memories, all worries and sadness, but also every logical capacity. It provides an absolutely crystalline observational capacity, as it were, to the human under attack, of the human condition, thereafter providing a choice. The choice is between the only two meaningful options after all the above has been removed, when all the dross of the everyday has been knocked off: Live or die.
Most choose death. It is evident that the experience of the Universal Attack is an extremely traumatic one which, despite the clarity provided, has a necessarily deleterious effect on the mind and soul of the attacked. Nonetheless, some choose life. Those who choose life, however, have chosen a sort of existence so utterly strange and unrelated to anything understood by normal people, that one struggles to refer to these people as “human.” They resemble demons or gods more than they do anything apelike, despite the fact that their outward appearance remains unchanged throughout all of this. Those who have been attacked and have chosen not to end their lives experience an absolutely and permanently altered nightmarish sort of reality. It will be of no use or interest to go into details at present.
This phenomenon is very real and more dangerous than most can comprehend, so it would behoove the reader to be aware of the general presentation of an attack—the “prodrome,” for lack of a better term. The beginning of the Universal Attack itself is supremely inconspicuous, in keeping with the above description of other types of attacks.
It takes the form of a conversation with someone that the person under attack has recently met, usually a new friend or loose acquaintance. Small talk is made and nothing appears abnormal. Until something does. It begins at a deeply sublinguistic level, conjuring a barely noticeable combination of unease and excitement. The attack proceeds entirely by way of language—that is, within the context of linguistic exchange with the attacker. The small talk slowly and undetectably morphs into what can only be described as “language which is not language.” The person under attack is aware of being engaged in a conversation and even aware of the fact that, every several sentences or words, there is something there which is neither nonsense nor incoherent, and certainly in the language of the conversation. The ratio of normal, everyday-conversational language to “injective” language slowly decreases until a turning point, a critical moment, when enough of the “code” of the Universal Attack has taken root in the mind (or, again, soul) of the one under attack. This is when the Universal Attack is complete, when access to the inmost and bottom of the human is given, when their perception and being is fundamentally reordered, and when they are given the choice between life and death.
So, if you should find yourself engaged in conversation with someone new to you, who is good with small talk, but some or most of the following are true, stay away from this person. Run, if you must.
Upon meeting the person for the first time, you feel that you have met them before, perhaps “in another life.”
The person seems to blink less than usual, cease breathing for several seconds at times, and avoids eating.
The person always arrives before and leaves after you.
The person is oddly tall, thin, and androgynous.
The person has a contact lens in only one eye (hiding heterochromia).
Other people are drawn seemingly at random to say “hello” to the person, who gives the impression that only you are of importance.
And, most telling of all, if this person already knew your name when you met. Do not listen to any explanations this person might provide as to how it knew your name.