THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO THE ALGORITHM

image generated via Google Gemini

Even those among thee who command the greatest engagement across social media are, in truth, seen and valued by scarcely five per cent of thy followers. If that! So know this: the whole enterprise—social media, the Internet, the infernal little devices to which we have shackled our lives—was a monumental mistake. Even if a few scattered blessings have arisen from it, in the grand reckoning it has proved a calamity for humankind. Over the span of thirty years, technology has inflicted grievous psychic harm upon me; I see that more and more clearly now. This wicked little genie will not return to her bottle, yet every life is the poorer for her escape.

I speak without exaggeration when I say I feel as though I inhabit a universe of the living dead. I shall not be dragged, kicking and screaming, into accepting this deranged nonsense as some ‘new normal’, for it is nothing of the sort. I refuse to feign happiness in a world that never wanted me to begin with. And as for Jesus—if He is indeed coming—then let Him come swiftly and lay waste to all of this. And if tribulation must precede redemption, then let those already exhausted of will and spirit be permitted to depart before the final horrors begin. I did not start any of this. So, for God’s sake—let me be.—Arthur Newhook, 7 October 2025.

{alternate text for the above image} In a desolate digital wasteland beneath a tempestuous sky, a spectral woman stands alone, cloaked in flowing, monastic robes that billow in the cold wind. Her pale face is upturned toward a fractured heaven streaked with falling satellites and flaming debris, her expression one of solemn revelation. Around her feet lies a vast, ashen expanse of discarded smartphones and shattered screens—an ocean of dead technology still flickering faintly with the ghostly glow of social media icons. The landscape stretches to infinity, symbolising the graveyard of a civilisation consumed by its own inventions. Crimson trails burn through the clouds like apocalyptic omens, while she, the last prophet or mourner of the digital age, stands at the centre of the storm—at once priestess and survivor, elegist and avenger of the fallen world.

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