“God, am I secretely a snail brain wrapped in a pastrami encasing?”

“You’re absolutely right!”

Worship the butthole!

“From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal… Even in death I serve the Omnissiah.” - Athropic employees, maybe.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” or so

This should have been a gag in a sitcom; not an article in Futurism…

Yeah, we’re fucked.

The basilisk will devour regardless

This worship of abominable intelligence is an atrocious heresy against the Omnissiah!

Sure they are.