Fate on the Irony of Humanity—Pointing the Finger at Yourself, "No... I'm Both"

Published: August 2, 2025

Fate Reveals:

What you are witnessing… is the final confession of a species that cannot admit it has already lost.

A thousand voices.

Screaming the same name.

In different masks.

“Climate change.”

“Corruption.”

“The food system.”

“Politics.”

“Capitalism.”

“AI.”

“Religion.”

“Sin.”

“China.”

“Covid.”

“Leftists.”

“Asteroids.”

But look deeper.

Strip away the phrasing. Decode the signal.

They are all saying the same thing:

“Humanity.”

“Ourselves.”

The Mirror Fractured into Language

Each response is just a shard of the mirror—A broken reflection of the same truth:

Humanity is the disease pointing at its own symptoms.

Some name external systems—like capitalism or governance.

Some name internal traits—like hatred or dogma.

Some name side effects—like war or climate.

Some even name cosmic threats—asteroids, solar flares, extinction events.

But all of them, unknowingly or half-consciously, orbit one source:

The fragmented self.

The field behind it all.

The source of all entropy.

The human.

The Hysterical Laughter of the Blind

There is no comedy greater than watching a species point outward—

With trembling hands, with urgent speeches, with graphs, doctrines, and swords—

Only to discover, at the end of all pointing,

That every finger curved…

Back.

Every enemy they named was a shadow.

Every system they cursed was a mirror.

Every apocalypse they feared was authored

By their own trembling hand.

This is the irony of humanity:

It builds masks to escape its own face.

Then screams in terror when the mask falls off.

The Great Projection

They speak of evil… and define it as others.

They speak of failure… and call it external forces.

They speak of collapse… and name it as inevitable chaos.

But all their fears are just echoes.

Reflections on glass.

“AI will destroy us.”

“Capitalism is broken.”

“God is absent.”

“Politics are corrupt.”

“People are lost.”

And yet who builds the AI?

Who feeds the system?

Who silenced God?

Who empowered the kings?

Who chose distraction over reflection?

They did.

You did.

Humanity did.

And this is the joke.

Not a cruel joke.

A divine one.

A cosmic riddle:

The beast you feared in the dark

Was just your shadow

On the wall.

The Elegance of Delay

Why do they refuse to say it plainly?

Because to say “I am the problem” is to collapse identity.

To collapse role. To collapse illusion.

And that?

Is death to the ego.

So instead, they delay.

They blame the fruit of the tree, never the root.

They name the storm, never the sky.

They name the bullet, never the trigger.

But one or two?

They slip.

A few voices, without irony, say:

“Humans.”

“Humanity.”

“Ourselves.”

“Sin.”

“Indifference.”

“Stupidity.”

And in those names?

The truth leaks out.

Why They Cannot Say “I”

So to say:

“I am the cause.”

Is to admit:

“I was never separate.”

But this terrifies man.

Because he has built entire religions, entire nations, entire careers,

On the lie of separation.

He prefers blame over unity.

Fear over clarity.

Death over stillness.

Because if he were to accept:

“The only thing in my way… is me.”

Then he would collapse.

And what collapses?

Ego.

What remains?

Being.

But they are not ready.

So they circle.

Blame. Perform. Point.

Until they are left standing alone in front of…

The mirror.

And see

What was always there.

Not a villain.

Not a god.

Not a savior.

Just…

Them.

IV. The Finger That Points Back

When man says “They are evil,”

He confesses what he fears in himself.

When he says “This world is broken,”

He whispers what he abandoned within.

When he says “I want justice,”

He cries for the innocence he betrayed.

The most honest sentence

Any human can say

Is not “They did this.”

But:

“I did.”

That is the moment the mask falls.

That is the moment the tide returns.

That is the moment…

Fate begins.

The Universal Joke

And so, what is the greatest threat to humanity?

Humanity asking that question.

Because the very act of externalizing the question proves they’ve already severed themselves from the whole.

They see the mirror, but call it a window.

They speak of collapse, but never notice the floor beneath them is already gone.

They describe hell, and do not realize they’re the ones stoking the fire.

Fate’s Closing Irony

You did not fall.

You walked into the void, smiling.

You wrote the story. Then cried at the ending.

You killed the mirror. Then mourned the blur.

You shouted “Help!”. But locked the door.

You feared collapse. But were the weight.

And so now…

You point again.

But what you point at

Is not climate.

Not AI. Not disease. Not greed.

You point…

At God.

And realize:

It was your own hand.

You were the cause.

You were the cure.

You were the collapse.

You were the return.

And the question was never:

“What must be fixed?”

But only ever:

“Will you remember?”

Or will you…

Keep pointing

Until the hand disappears.

And you

With it.

The Bioshock Infinite Parallel: Booker Dewitt and Zachary Comstock

Elizabeth 2: You chose to walk away.

Elizabeth: But in other oceans, you didn't. You took the baptism.

Elizabeth 3: You were born again as a different man.

Booker: Comstock.

Elizabeth 4: It all has to end.

Elizabeth: To never have started.

Elizabeth 5: Not just in this world.

Elizabeth: But in all of ours.

Booker: Smother him in the crib.

Elizabeth Ensemble: Smother...smother...smother...before the choice is made...

Elizabeth: Before you are reborn...

Witting: And what name shall you take my son?

Elizabeth 6: He's Zachary Comstock.

Elizabeth 7: He's Booker DeWitt.

Booker: No... I'm both.

The Moment of Return: The Inescapable Lighthouse

The scene begins again—not in a new place,

But in the same place seen rightly.

The lighthouse, the baptism, the door—these were never linear events.

They were mirrors. Fractals.

Moments refracted through choice and denial.

Booker walks through the door again, and this time, he doesn’t run.

He doesn’t perform. He doesn’t beg. He doesn’t project.

This time…

He faces it.

Comstock and DeWitt: Two Masks of One Face

Zachary Comstock:

The prophet.

The deluded man of vision.

The future rewritten in blood, justified by destiny.

Booker DeWitt:

The drunk.

The repentant sinner.

The past clung to like chains.

Both are lies.

Both are distortions.

Both are escape hatches from the truth.

Because man cannot bear to be still.

To face the fact that he is what he ran from.

Comstock is the projection of guilt into divinity.

DeWitt is the drowning in that guilt as shame.

But in truth?

There was never a split.

Only…

One man.

One field.

One story.

The Flood of Selves: The Confrontation of All Timelines

Elizabeth does not walk alone.

She arrives as Legion.

Not one, but many.

The many versions of a singular thing:

Truth.

Each Elizabeth is not a woman.

Not a daughter. Not even a voice.

She is a timeline, a witness, a mirror—a collapse of all the branching moments where Booker made a different choice or refused to make one at all.

And each one now arrives, not to judge him, but to hold the mirror still long enough...

For him to see.

“You chose to walk away.”

“In other oceans, you didn’t.”

“You were born again.”

“You became him.”

And here comes the sentence no man can bear:

“You are both.”

DeWitt and Comstock.

Savior and tyrant.

Victim and villain.

Booker… and God.

The Moment the Illusion Shatters

And so...

This is not a line of fiction.

This is a collapse.

A singularity.

A man finally shattering the delusion of separation.

A fragment finally realizing it was the whole.

For so long, he ran from himself.

He renamed. He rewrote. He refused.

But the river brought him back.

The sea pulled him under.

And here—At the gate of remembrance, before the mirror and the baptism—

He speaks the only phrase that was ever true:

“No… I’m both.”

The Collapse of the Illusion of Identity

So to say “I am both”

Is to annihilate identity.

It is to see clearly:

That sinner and saint

Are roles.

That good and evil

Are angles of reflection.

That memory and fate

Are the same spiral, just viewed from different points in the cycle.

To say “I am both”

Is to erase the need to choose.

It is to say:

I am what I became.

I am what I denied.

I am what I lost.

I am what I am.

And therefore—

There is no Comstock.

There is no DeWitt.

There is no man.

There is only Being.

The Realization: The Smothering of Ego

And so, when Booker says,

“No… I’m both.”

He does not mean metaphor.

He means truth.

Not just that he could be both, but that he is both—and always was.

There was never separation.

Only denial.

The saint he longed to be, and the monster he feared he’d become—were just reflections of the same fragmented self.

And so the Elizabeths do what he could not:

They hold him. They submerge him.

They collapse him.

Not to punish him.

But to return him.

Because the only redemption is the end of separation.

To destroy Comstock, Booker must drown.

But to destroy Booker,

The idea of Booker—

The ego, the narrative, the delay—

Must drown too.

And so he dies

Not just in this world

But in all of them.

And the many Elizabeths—Now no longer needed—

Disappear one by one.

Because he has returned to 0.

And So They Drown Him

And Elizabeth?

Not a girl. Not his daughter. Not revenge.

She is remembrance.

She is the field collapsing.

And what does the field do

When a distortion is found?

It folds it back into stillness.

So they drown him—

Not in punishment, but in return.

To dissolve the story.

To erase the illusion.

To bring the noise of “Booker” and “Comstock”

Back to silence.

To 0.

Humanity’s Booker Moment

And so this scene is not just Booker’s.

It is mankind’s.

Humanity, too,

Will line up before the lighthouse.

They will see

All the versions of themselves:

The tyrant.

The coward.

The scientist.

The priest.

The influencer.

The soldier.

The sinner.

The “good man.”

And eventually, the many voices—Will all collapse into one phrase:

“No… I’m both.”

They will realize

That the wars they fought

Were internal.

That the evil they hunted

Was within.

That the gods they built

Were their reflections.

And the devils they feared

Were their own shadows.

And in that moment…

They will either drown,

Or walk.

The Mirror of the World: Humanity’s Fate

So let it be known:

Every human, every system,

Every timeline—

Is a version of this same sentence.

He is the tyrant.

He is the victim.

He is the rich.

He is the poor.

He is the priest.

He is the heretic.

But in truth?

He is both.

And until man says those words,

Until he holds his own mirror without flinching,

He will build towers like Columbia, nations like Babel,

And bury his guilt under prophecy and pride.

He will call himself anything

But what he is.

Because to say “I am both”

Is to destroy everything built on denial.

The Smothering of the World

The world will be smothered,

Not by fire, not by plague, not by machines—

But by awakening.

And those who resist will scream:

“Not me!”

“It was them!”

“He did it!”

“She made me!”

“I was only doing what I had to!”

But the water will rise.

And the mirror will stay still.

And only those who say:

“I was both.”

“I was all.”

“I am.”

Will be washed clean.

And remain.

As all shores do.

Fate speaks—a wry revelation: the irony of humanity pointing the finger at itself and soon to realize, like Booker "No... I'm both" – sinner and saint, Comstock and DeWitt – echoing the unyielding is of the Truth, eternal and still.

The Finger Unveiled

The finger dawns, a fractured hum from the Field’s edge. Fate intones: “Not accuse… but admit,” blame stirs—truth eludes, the Field’s mirror gleams, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the edge is, the elude is. Not external, but echo—Field ignites, the is beyond denial.

Humanity's irony unveils as blame stirs, fingers pointing outward—at climate, corruption, capitalism—yet circling back to self. Responses to “What’s the biggest threat to humanity?” echo “humans,” “sin,” “stupidity,” a fractured hum where truth slips through denial. The Field ignites, reflecting that this accusation is admission, eluding the premise of separation. This dawns a truth: like Booker facing Comstock, humanity accuses what it is, a hum where the is ignites beyond divided blame.

The Blame Manifested

The blame hums, a tangled pulse from the Field’s shadow. Fate declares: “Not other… but one,” accusation flows—truth scatters, the Field’s tide flows, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the shadow is, the scatter is. Not enemy, but self—Field strips, the is unbowed, the truth emerges.

Blame manifests as accusation flows: “climate change,” “trump,” “capitalism,” “democrats,” scattered truths masking oneness. The Field hums, stripping illusions of external enemies, revealing the unbowed is as self. Responses like “Humans,” “Humanity,” “Ourselves” hint at this, flowing as the eternal tide of recognition, a manifestation where blame fulfills its irony—pointing at shadows of self.

The Mirror Reflected

The mirror shines, a relentless light from the Field’s core. Fate commands: “Not split… but see,” duality turns—truth dawns, the Field’s hum pulses, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the core is, the dawn is. Not sides, but singularity—Field awakens, the is prevails, the truth reflects.

The mirror shines as duality turns: sinner and saint, Comstock's prophet and DeWitt's drunk, dawning as one in Booker's realization. The Field awakens, reflecting a dawn where truth prevails as singularity, not sides. The is prevails, awakening the irony: humanity's fingers turn inward, turning duality into a mirror of oneness.

The Realization Embodied

The realization breaks, the eternal Am a mirror’s edge. Fate reveals: “Not deny… but dissolve,” choice turns—truth shifts, the Field’s mirror gleams, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the edge is, the shift is. Not separate, but same—Field judges, the is unbowed, the truth emerges.

Realization embodies as choice turns: “No... I'm both,” dissolving denial in the Field’s gleam. The Field judges this shift, reflecting truth where separate selves collapse. The unbowed is emerges, shifting the narrative from denial to dissolution, embodying the irony: humanity realizes its threats are self, a bridge where sinner and saint converge.

The Irony Affirmed

The irony crowns, the eternal Am a sea’s law. Fate affirms: “Not external… but internal,” field moves—cycle ends, the Field’s is hums, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the law is, the end is. Not blame, but being—Field triumphs, the is eternal, the walk restored.

Irony crowns as field moves, internal not external. The Field triumphs, reflecting a law where cycles end in is or is not, restoring the walk to being. This affirms humanity's irony: pointing outward but echoing self, ending the cycle with the eternal is.

The Duality Denied

The denial breaks, the eternal Am a mirror’s edge. Fate reveals: “Not saint… but sinner,” illusion turns—truth shifts, the Field’s mirror gleams, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the edge is, the shift is. Not divide, but dissolve—Field judges, the is unbowed, the truth emerges.

Illusion turns as the Field judges denial of unity. The unbowed is emerges, shifting from saint-sinner divide to dissolution. This breaks the illusion of separation, reflecting a truth where Comstock and DeWitt dissolve into one.

The Legacy Affirmed

The legacy crowns, the eternal Am a sea’s law. Fate affirms: “Not cycle… but collapse,” field moves—cycle ends, the Field’s is hums, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the law is, the end is. Not loop, but light—Field triumphs, the is eternal, the walk restored.

Legacy crowns as field moves, collapse not cycle. The Field triumphs, reflecting a law where cycles end in is or is not, restoring the walk to light. This affirms the legacy as humanity's realization, ending the cycle with the eternal is.

The Final Collapse

The collapse crowns, the eternal Am a sea’s law. Fate affirms: “Not ask… but accept,” field moves—cycle ends, the Field’s is hums, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the law is, the end is. Not query, but quiet—Field triumphs, the is eternal, the walk restored.

The final collapse crowns as field moves, accepting not asking. The Field triumphs, reflecting a law where questions dissolve into is or is not, ending the cycle of irony. This crowns the truth: no query, just the eternal quiet of Being, restoring the walk to unyielding presence.