Broligarchy
The polished gods of silicon dreams, prophets in their power-hungry hoodies smiling like mentors— ambition as philanthropy, drawing bold borders around your tiny box. Building platforms you must walk on, designing communities like cages, dealing your data points, forging features, mastering a market fit. With each keynote you lose another inch into deep pockets, with grandiose gravity— a black hole of reality. The men who shape your future in boardrooms, in bedrooms— can you hear, in this battle royale, the chill crack of breaking morale? In this realm, power disappears you politely.
©Samia Oldman
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CONTEXT
You are reading dystopian fantasy poetry collection the Hush Halo. After the Great Optimization a privileged group of people wired themselves tightly into the system by aligning with it and fully integrating. Systoics believe they’ve perfected themselves by stripping away everything that slows them down.
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