Maybe the Industrial Revolution ruined our lives

There is no doubt that technology would advance amongst humanity. We are gifted and intelligent, the power of the world in our hands. One of the earliest mentions of technological advancement was in the Book of Enoch, when the angels agreed to come down to Earth. These weren’t the good angels, the ones that God sent to do his work. They were curious enough to procreate with humans, giving them information that would’ve otherwise taken hundreds of years to resolve. Nephilim, the offspring of disastrous unions, marched with giant feet.

They were fallen, but not by choice. In that sense, although they did not choose to be born, they were the product of two worlds that should’ve never collided. But then after that, there was the Church. The Romans filled with angst for control and the people feared God because they knew they should. What flames must’ve been burning, igniting in the air, remorseless. There was order, but the not kind that restricted you. Humans have always been territorial and controlling.

With gratitude to the Fallen, we reach the peak of our existence. Questions emerged, the moon, the stars, the universe, Earth may be round or flat, artistic expression, philosophy, awakenings, revolutions. Galileo was onto something, until he wasn’t. Why must they take everything we have! Even our thoughts! A blended version of fear and anger. How could they not have rebelled and fought for these things?

Last night, I thought about the Industrial Revolution. The machine has become us. We have become the machine. Everyday, we work the system because that’s what it’s become. The divisiveness worked and we are separate. Physically, we are the one and the same, plugging along, disconnecting and reconnecting. But did it ruin us? Does this mean that we will never truly own our desires the way we truly would, if it weren’t for all the machinery? The artificial intelligence that prays impending doom upon all of us?

Now, we have everything. More than we could ever want. Enough so that we feel drowned, gasping for air and wondering when the next break is.

We own ourselves—nothing else.