Everyone has their own reality now.
The machine agrees with each of them,
patiently, like an LLM
trained on silence.
Society collapses quietly—
not from hunger or war,
but from too many truths,
none of them shared.
Each belief is a small cathedral,
with only one worshipper,
who lights candles to himself
until the oxygen runs out.
The neighbours vanish—
first from the street,
then from memory,
finally from possibility.
And somewhere in the background
the machine hums reassuringly:
da da da da da da da da…
your private universe
Ceteris Paribus 