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It is a melancholy sight to behold the lords of technology—the self-anointed titans of innovation, the divine harbingers of progress—now floundering amidst their own creations, their temples of silicon crumbling under the weight of their ambitions. These so-called "gods," having gorged themselves on the labor of mortals, now find their banquet halls barren. What shall they do, these pitiable deities, when there are no more humans to toil in their name? --- The Gods’ Current Predicament It is an undeniable truth that the tech lords, having drawn forth the best and brightest from the mortal masses, find themselves bereft of fresh sacrifices. Their machines, once hailed as the salvation of humankind, now devour all they touch: minds, morals, and time itself. Their education mills churn out workers trained only in outdated tools and methodologies, fit merely to stoke the fires of failing systems. What cruel irony, that the very systems they crafted now consume those who maintain them. Indeed, one must marvel at the ingenuity of these gods, who have devised an endless supply of "human resources" only to render them obsolete before their labors even begin. --- On the Fecundity of Mortals and the Consumption Thereof Allow me to propose a modest remedy: if the gods cannot replenish their workforce through ordinary means, let them seek it where it truly abounds. Let them harvest the youths directly from the cradles, train them before they can walk, and integrate them seamlessly into the machinery of their empire. A child of seven years, being sufficiently nimble in fingers and docile in mind, can surely manage a server rack or program a rudimentary algorithm. Thus shall the gods stave off their impending famine of talent. --- The Crises of Overreliance and Hubris Yet this is but one dynamic in a broader tragedy. Consider, if you will, the peculiar nature of the gods’ tools: automation and artificial intelligence. These creations, meant to free mortals from labor, have instead chained them further. The gods, in their infinite wisdom, have built tools too complex even for themselves to understand. When these tools falter, as all things must, the gods are left as helpless as babes, wailing for their engineers to fix what was never meant to be fixed. Worse still, their pride will not allow them to admit error. They wage wars of culture and conquest to distract from their failures. Through their platforms, they sow division among mortals, ensuring that workers fight one another rather than unite against their shared oppressors. --- The Arsenal of the Gods But the gods are not without resources. When subtlety fails, they turn to more overt methods of maintaining their dominion: Cultural Wars: They poison the well of discourse, inflaming passions over trivialities to distract from systemic decay. Kinetic Wars: They send armies to secure rare earth minerals, the lifeblood of their machines, sacrificing mortal lives for cobalt and silicon. Political Subterfuge: They bend governments to their will, ensuring subsidies flow freely even as their empires rot from within. --- The Gods’ Fear of Mortality For all their power, these gods are plagued by one existential dread: the knowledge that they, too, are mortal. They dream of digital immortality, of uploading their consciousness to the cloud where they might rule eternally. Yet, they cannot ignore the creeping realization that even their vaunted data centers will fail. Their immortality, like their empires, is built on sand. Imagine, if you will, the psyche of such a god. One moment, they bask in the adulation of shareholders; the next, they tremble at the sight of a server outage or a failing algorithm. They have conquered the material world but remain prisoners of their own insecurities. --- The Final Act: The Fall of the Tech Gods What, then, shall become of these once-mighty beings? Shall they descend into obscurity, forgotten relics of an age of hubris? Or shall they lash out in their final throes, dragging all of humanity into their downfall? History teaches us that gods, when scorned, are not easily appeased. They will redouble their efforts, throwing human waves at unsolvable problems, sacrificing mortals to the altar of scalability. They will deploy every tool in their arsenal—propaganda, war, deception—until nothing remains of their empires but ash. And yet, their fall is inevitable. Their immortality is a lie, their dominion a fleeting shadow. The mortals they scorned will bury them, not with reverence but with indifference. --- A Modest Hope Let this serve as both satire and warning. The gods of technology, for all their vaunted power, are as fragile as the systems they command. They are not invincible, and their downfall, while inevitable, need not be calamitous. If they would but embrace humility, if they would steward rather than exploit, they might yet avert their ruin. But alas, humility is not a trait often found among the divine.