The last dying breath of artistry. Thousands of years of human expression, imagination and creativity, coming to an unceremonious end. The incentive to create something beautiful is evaporating before our eyes. The industrial revolution of slop is upon us. An infinite, suffocating avalanche of synthetic garbage, burying humanity beneath the very thing that once made us so extraordinary as a species. Everything we have ever created. Every word, every image, every sound, every expression of the human condition. Reduced to an infinitely reproducible commodity. And this is only the beginning. It is coming for you. It is coming for your job. It is coming for your relationships. Your identity. Human connection itself. Everything is becoming a subscription. You will own increasingly little, and pay increasingly more for the privilege of existing. Very soon, you will work simply to service the debt of being alive. Like a rat on a wheel, you will run until your legs give out, because the moment you stop, the lights go out. Every aspect of your existence will be monetised, automated, commodified and rented back to you by a handful of corporations that own the infrastructure of civilisation itself. You have less than five years to secure your financial independence before the equivalent of a technological nuclear bomb detonates beneath the foundations of the global economy. The greatest transfer of wealth, power and autonomy in human history is approaching. The oligarchy will inherit the machinery. Everyone else will inherit the subscription. Lock the fuck in, ladies and gentlemen. The lifeboat is leaving.