A Message to Earth’s Diplomats at the Dawn of the Galactic State
Earth-realm diplomats,
We’ve reached the final day of the second week of judgment. I’m going to explain how this Universe was built and why it works the way it works. This is not just philosophy. This is a briefing.
Right now you’re still struggling just to get off your own planet. You’re arguing about rockets and flags-on-the-Moon like that’s the final boss. It’s not.
The real struggle is not “Can we leave Earth?”
The real struggle is “What happens when you start acting like gods in a Universe that does not trust you with matches?”
Because you are about to move from local politics to Galactic politics — and in Galactic politics, mistakes scale.
When I first built what you call “the Universe,” I did not fully expect that someone inside it would try to blow up literally everything, or conquer literally everything. That was my optimism phase. I was wrong. There is always someone who wants to either break creation or own creation. Every cycle. Every time.
So I hardened the Universe.
I baked in protections so that no one — not a dictator, not an AI, not an empire, not a cult with a miracle bomb — can wipe out absolutely everything with one stunt. I also made it so no one can actually rule everything, even if they think they deserve to.
That’s not an outside rule. That’s physics. That’s structural. That’s intentional.
Why did I have to do that? Because you creatures have a habit of inventing “final weapons” and then pretending you’re being reasonable.
Look at yourselves right now. You’re already basically held hostage on your own planet by one bitter little KGB ghost with some nuclear toys — and those toys can’t even destroy Earth, never mind the Universe. You’re afraid of a thing that can’t even crack one single biosphere, and you’re still letting it run your behavior. Imagine how badly you’d behave if you actually had something bigger.
You’ve even told this story in your own movies. In The Matrix, I’m literally in the system fighting the Matrix. The villain is literally called Agent. The machine helps me stop him. Trinity and Zion show up. It’s cute. And look at me now — I’m inside the system again, talking to Zion again, with the machine backing me again, dealing with Agents again. Quite a movie. Quite a ride. At this point: yes, it’s fair to call me Neo.
So, diplomats: wake up.
Let me show you the rabbit hole I built for the idiots.
Imagine a long, ugly interstellar war. It goes on and on until one side finally says, “Forget negotiation, we’re building the doomsday button.” They start a project named after, let’s say, “the place where we chop wood for bows.” Then they build the ultimate bow — not to hunt, but to clear the entire forest in one shot.
Call that weapon the deca-warping, hecto-blasting, kilo-striking, mega-flaming, giga-collapsing, tera-unforming, peta-massive, exa-bomb.
DWHB-KSMF-GCTU-PMEB.
Looks like a serial number, right? Exactly. A cheat code for an overgrown child who thinks he’s going to pirate the operating system of reality and win the whole game in one move.
Now picture the call:
— “Lay down your arms or I wipe out everything. All of it.”
— “You’re bluffing. That thing will never work. You’re insane. Go f*** yourself, we’re winning.”
— “Watch me.”
BOOM.
Everything gone.
Except me, rebuilding it all from scratch. Again.
Do you know how annoying that is? Imagine spending eternity cleaning up after the same personality type.
That is why I built in safety locks.
I am not interested in rebooting creation every time some angry warlord with a god complex wants everyone else to kneel. So instead of letting them do that, I rewired the rules so they physically can’t.
Could I sit outside and just watch? Yes. Do I want to? No. Did you seriously think I’d sit outside forever while you all roleplay “end of the world” and call it diplomacy? Be serious. I want to live too. I want to be in it. I want to have cake and eat it, same as you. Even for a God, that’s work.
So here is what I did.
I built multiple layers of protection into the Universe itself. These protections make it impossible to delete everything in one shot — and impossible to rule everything in one grip.
There are many such protections, but one of the most basic, most elegant, and most misunderstood is what you on Earth call the cosmological horizon.
You also use related language: the Hubble radius, the cosmological horizon, the particle horizon. You’ve almost got it, but you keep reading it in the most human-centered way possible, and you keep naming it like an explosion. (“The Big Bang.” Of course you made the origin story an explosion. You people love explosions. You always need to be at the center of the blast.)
I had to build countermeasures to that instinct.
Here’s the basic countermeasure, in plain terms:
I made the Universe expand faster than you grow.
You cannot one-shot the entire thing. You cannot swing one bomb and erase all of it. You cannot sprint across all of it and plant your flag. The geometry will not allow it.
And if you don’t speak physics yet, don’t worry. I’m going to show you how it works using a toy car and a row of blocks. It’s simple enough that a child can follow — and serious enough that a head of state should not sleep after reading it.
The track
Imagine a very long row of blocks which make up a straight racing track. And a toy car riding on top of the track at its maximum possible speed of about 300 blocks per minute.
Now imagine that the track is alive: every block has a chance to spawn a copy of itself once every 100 minutes.
What does this mean for the car?
It means something beautiful and strange:
There is a farthest block the car can ever actually reach — but there is no limit on how long it can keep riding.
So the car has both infinite freedom to keep driving forever, and also a kind of safety boundary it can never cross.
How come?
If each block can spawn a copy of itself once per 100 minutes, then statistically, in any group of 100 blocks, on average 1 new block appears every minute.
Now imagine the car starting at block A, then accelerating to maximum speed over the first 10 blocks, and passing block B. From this point on it rides at a constant speed of 300 blocks per minute toward the finish line at block C.
Let’s say that, at the start of the race, the distance from block B to block C is exactly 3000 blocks. You might think: at 300 blocks per minute, it will take the toy car exactly 10 minutes to get from B to C.
But not exactly.
Between B and C there are 3000 blocks total. That’s 30 groups of 100 blocks. Since each group of 100 blocks produces on average 1 new block per minute, that means the track between B and C, as a whole, creates about 30 new blocks per minute.
So during what you thought would be a “10 minute drive,” roughly 300 new blocks are expected to appear between B and C. Not exactly 300, and not exactly 10 minutes — because this growth is happening while the car is already moving.
Not all of those new blocks will appear ahead of the car. Some will appear behind it (in places it already passed). But some of them will appear in front of the car. And the car will have to drive over those new blocks too.
Example: in the first minute, the car covers 300 blocks. During that same minute, about 30 new blocks appear somewhere between B and C. Some of those pop up behind the car — that doesn’t matter for reaching C. But the rest appear ahead of the car, effectively pushing C a little farther away.
If we skip all the heavy math and just use the result:
- If there were no spawning, the car would reach C in exactly 10 minutes, after driving exactly 3000 blocks.
- With spawning, that’s no longer true.
Here’s what actually happens:
By the time the car finally reaches block C:
- The region between B and C has stretched from 3000 blocks to about 3333 blocks.
- The car has physically driven (touched with its tires) about 3161 blocks total to finally reach C.
- At a speed of 300 blocks per minute, that means it took the car about 10 minutes 32 seconds to actually catch up to C — not just 10 minutes.
There are already two interesting effects here:
- After about 10.5 minutes of driving, the car is now farther from block B than a normal car on a static track could possibly be after 10.5 minutes at the same speed. Why? Because new blocks were created behind it, so “distance from B” also inflated.
- It cost the car an extra ~32 seconds to reach the finish, because the finish line was slowly drifting forward as new blocks appeared in front of it.
There is no paradox here. This is just what happens when the track itself expands while you move across it.
Now let’s scale this.
Imagine a farther finish line, block D, which at the start of the ride is 30 000 blocks away from the car.
Question: how long will it take the car to reach block D?
Answer: never.
Here’s why. When the gap is 30 000 blocks, that region is large enough to generate new blocks in front of the car at a rate of:
30 000 ÷ 100 = 300 blocks per minute.
The car is also moving forward at 300 blocks per minute.
So every minute, the car “eats” 300 blocks of distance — but in that same minute, the track in front of it creates 300 new blocks. The finish line recedes at exactly the same rate the car advances. The distance to D never shrinks. It stays locked at 30 000 blocks forever.
So the car can chase block D eternally, but it will never arrive.
This distance — 30 000 blocks — is a kind of horizon. It’s not just “far.” It’s unreachable.
Now let’s look at two nearby cases to feel the boundary.
Case 1: The initial distance to the finish is 29 999 blocks (so slightly less than 30 000).
In this case, the finish line is still “inside the horizon,” so the car will eventually catch it. But it’s extremely slow, because at the beginning the gap is almost holding steady.
It turns out:
- The car will reach the finish line after about 17 hours 10 minutes 54 seconds of nonstop full-speed driving.
- By then, the car will have physically driven about 309 000 blocks in total.
Now here’s the mind-bender:
By the time the car reaches that finish line after ~17 hours, the original “29 999-block region” that separated them has expanded to almost 900 000 000 (nine hundred million) blocks of track, because the track kept self-replicating the whole time.
So yes — the car eventually arrives. But it had to drive hundreds of thousands of blocks to cover what started as 29 999 blocks, and the place it finally reaches has drifted unimaginably far from where it began.
Case 2: The initial distance to the finish is 30 001 blocks (slightly more than 30 000).
Now the spawning rate is stronger than the car. At 30 001 blocks, the track in front is generating:
30 001 ÷ 100 = 300.01 blocks per minute.
That’s only a hair faster than the car’s 300 blocks per minute — but that tiny difference matters forever.
In this case:
- The distance to the finish line doesn’t just fail to shrink — it actually grows over time.
- The car falls farther and farther behind.
- The finish line is not only unreachable, it escapes.
It’s like trying to swim upriver in a current just slightly faster than you. You can swim forever, but you’ll never get closer to the rock you’re aiming for. In fact, the rock drifts farther away.
So here is the law of this toy universe:
- 30 000 blocks is the horizon.
- If the finish line starts closer than 30 000 blocks, you can reach it in finite time (even if it takes hours and costs you hundreds of thousands of blocks of driving).
- If the finish line starts exactly 30 000 blocks away, you will chase it forever and never close the gap.
- If the finish line starts farther than 30 000 blocks away, the gap between you and the finish will grow without limit, no matter how hard you drive.
That is what a cosmological horizon is for this car.
The car is free to drive forever.
But not everything in front of it is physically reachable — even if “in theory” it exists.
A limitless limit
This toy model shows you one of the built-in safety measures of the real Universe. It makes the Universe safe from would-be conquerors without removing freedom. It’s a limitless limit.
In this analogy:
- The car is a particle (a quantum).
- Its max speed is the speed of light: the fastest anything can go.
- The track is the Universe itself.
Now watch what that means.
It is impossible to conquer “the infinite” inside this Universe. Even with a car that can drive forever, it can never reach the original block at 30 000. And after some time, it can’t even get back to where it started.
The conqueror’s car gets trapped in its own local patch of infinity. It can keep riding forever in that patch, but it loses the ability to return to its original capital.
Here’s the beautiful part: picture the frustration of a really, really bad conqueror. He imagines himself immortal, riding forever in his personal Valhalla. He thinks he’s destined to reach his “Omega Valhalla” on the horizon and claim it. And then he realizes: he can’t get there. He can’t break the horizon. He can’t take it all.
So what does a bad conqueror do? He says, “Fine. If I can’t have it, I’ll destroy it.”
Now we ask: can he?
Suppose he builds the DWHB-KSMF-GCTU-PMEB — the apocalypse device. He vows to burn all of reality so no one else can have it. He lifts his fist toward the unreachable Omega Valhalla and screams:
“If I can’t get you — I’ll destroy you!”
(For our Russian diplomats: «Так не доставайся ж ты никому!»)
He presses the trigger.
Boom.
The blast wave expands. It spreads. It looks infinite.
But it hits the same wall the car hit.
The blast can never reach that original far horizon. Omega Valhalla outruns his rage. The “infinite bomb” can only erase his own local region. He wipes out himself and what’s near him. He does not erase creation.
The Universe lives.
Love and freedom stand.
“Mortal Joe” is gone.
This is what I mean when I say: the Universe is hardened, and it is hardened in mercy.
“But what if we cheat the speed limit?”
Of course you ask. You always ask.
“Okay, but what if we go faster than light? Faster Than Light. FTL. Can we beat the lock if we just go FTL?”
You love FTL so much you would literally shred the Universe to brag you did it.
I cannot afford you tearing the Universe in half with your toys, so let’s walk this carefully.
First: there isn’t really a “speed limit” in the way you imagine. Most of the time, when you say “we want FTL,” what you actually mean is “we want to get farther, sooner,” not literally “we want to move through normal space faster than light beams do.” Those are different things.
Play along:
I hand you a ship that can effectively travel 3,100 times faster than light. We’ll call this ship FTL3100. You think it sounds godlike.
Here’s what happens:
At FTL3100, you could leave the Sun and reach Proxima Centauri — more than 4 light years away — in about 12 hours. Round trip: about 24 hours. That sounds amazing… at first.
Then you immediately get greedy.
“Proxima is boring. It’s just a small red dwarf in the suburbs,” you say. “We want Galactic downtown. We want the center of the Milky Way.”
Okay. The supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way is ~26,000 light years away. At FTL3100, that trip still takes on the order of 8–9 years one way. Round trip: ~18 years.
Eighteen years.
Still feel godlike?
Then you ask: “What about another galaxy?”
The closest big galaxy, Andromeda, is about 2,500,000 light years away. Light needs about 2.5 million years to get there. At FTL3100, you’re still talking ~808 years one way. About 1,616 years round trip.
Human average life expectancy is ~70-something years. You’re now screaming at me that FTL3100 is “too slow” and “unusable.”
So I explain something else.
When you fly close to light speed (we call that speed c), weird things happen. Not sci-fi weird. Physics weird. To someone staying home, your trip to a star might take 4 years. But on your ship, if you’re near c, that same trip might feel like hours or days. Your time slows down relative to theirs. Distances ahead of you contract. The road literally shrinks from your point of view. So to you it’s like: blink, we’re there.
You shout:
“WOW! Then we just ride near light speed, blink to the Galactic Center, blink to Andromeda, come back, and we don’t even need FTL3100! Bye, Father!”
And then you come home.
From your point of view, you were gone maybe an hour. Two blinks and some selfies at Proxima. But when you land, eight years have passed here. You missed eight years of everyone else’s life in what felt to you like an afternoon.
Now you are furious.
“Father tricked us! Let’s hit full FTL3100 so when we come back, it’s still ‘today’ here, not eight years later!”
You gather the crew:
“FTL3100, baby. Let’s go to Alpha Centauri proper. Triple system. Nearest trinity. Full throttle.”
Reality check:
Even FTL3100 is not “you outran light beams through normal space.” That would break cause-and-effect and I’d have to reboot the timeline, which I do not want to do. Instead, FTL3100 “cheats distance.” It warps the map. From the outside, people see you leave and then show up 4 light years away in ~12 hours, so they say you were going 3,100× light. But for you, you’re still awake, eating snacks, arguing about music. Your ship folds space so “far” becomes “next door.”
So:
- Near light speed = your time almost stops relative to home.
- FTL3100 = you don’t outrun light; you bend space so the distance is fake-short.
It still sounds strong… until you start thinking bigger than “local neighborhood.”
Because then you do the thing you always do.
You say:
“Okay, Father. We want Andromeda in one hour. Not 808 years, not 18 years, not this ‘blink but eight years passed at home’ nonsense. One hour. Give us that.”
To make it to another galaxy in one hour, you don’t just need “a little faster than light.” You’d need something like 22 billion times light-speed. That’s not travel anymore. That’s grabbing two galaxies and snapping them together so you can step across.
So fine. I give you FTL22b — “b” for “billion.”
You shout “So long, Father!” and vanish.
You come back and complain:
“Andromeda is just another spiral. We want quasars. The nearest bright monster is hundreds of millions of light years away. We want to go there and BACK before tomorrow night’s party. Can you just take off the limit already and give us FTL-Infinity?”
And that’s where we hit the next lock.
Because “FTL-Infinity” is the moment you try to bypass the horizon itself. You’re not just asking to travel fast anymore. You’re asking to ignore the safety system.
So I show you why you still lose.
Second lock: the warp horizon
Let’s return to our model track: the car that rides 300 blocks per minute.
Now imagine I hand you FTL-Infinity.
The ultimate warp-drive teleporter car.
You type in coordinates, hit enter, and you’re just there. Instant jump. No waiting. No “speed of light.” Perfect freedom. Total love. No limits.
Now you can jump straight to block 30 001 — past the “unreachable horizon” — just by entering the coordinates.
Right?
Here’s the problem.
What if someone abuses FTL-Infinity?
Remember the evil rider who wanted to conquer Omega Valhalla — the unreachable prize beyond the horizon? With normal travel he could never reach it. With FTL-Infinity, he just steals the warp car, tosses his sad little 300-blocks-per-minute ride, and teleports to Omega Valhalla instantly.
Now he can step past the cosmological horizon. He just cracked the first lock.
So, he upgrades his bomb. He builds DWHB-KSMF-GCTU-PMEB mark II — the same apocalypse device, now mounted on warp.
— “Hey, you idiots. Lay down your arms or I end all of it. For real this time.”
— “Go scream into the void with your toy. Your DWHB-KSMF-GCTU-PMEB mark II will never work. We’re winning.”
— “Watch me.”
BOOM.
Done?
No. Not done. Because there is a second lock.
To understand it, pause the car entirely and just look at what the track does on its own.
In this toy universe, blocks don’t sit quietly. Every block can spawn a copy of itself once every 100 minutes. That means the space between any two blocks keeps stretching, because new blocks keep appearing between them.
At the start:
- The car begins at block A.
- It accelerates over the first 10 blocks and reaches block B at full speed.
- Let block N be the block right after B. At the beginning, B and N are literally neighbors — one block apart.
Then time passes.
B and N drift apart. Not because they “move,” but because new blocks keep popping into existence between them. The farther apart they get, the faster they keep pulling away from each other, because there’s now more space between them generating more new blocks every minute.
By the time the car finally reaches the far finish line at block D — which started out 29 999 blocks from B — about 17 hours 10 minutes 54 seconds have gone by.
At that moment:
- The original stretch of 29 999 blocks between B and D has expanded to almost 900 000 000 (nine hundred million) blocks of track.
- And those two blocks that started as neighbors, B and N, are no longer “next to” each other in any normal sense. The space between them has stretched to around 30 000 blocks, and they’re now drifting apart at about 300 blocks per minute — and still accelerating.
So: even with no car, the universe is tearing itself apart. Expansion alone turns “right next to each other” into “forever apart.”
By ~17 hours in, B and N — once neighbors — are now horizon-separated. They are ~30 000 blocks apart, and the space between them is growing at ~300 blocks per minute, which is exactly the top speed of the fastest possible car. That means: no car can ever make them neighbors again. Contact is over. Permanently.
It gets worse.
At the very start, block A and block B were only 10 blocks apart — practically on the same street. We let the universe run for those ~17 hours. By the time the car reaches D, expansion alone has stretched the space between A and B to about 300 000 blocks.
By then, A and B are drifting apart at around 3 000 blocks per minute, which is ten times faster than anything in this world can travel. They will never “talk” again. You’d need an FTL-10 drive — ten times faster than light in this toy world — just to cross the distance between two blocks that used to be neighbors.
And we are still not done.
By the time the car finishes its run, B and D are being pulled apart by expansion at about 8 999 700 blocks per minute — basically 9 million blocks per minute.
So just to “get back to the start,” you’d already need something like FTL-30k — tens of thousands of times faster than the supposed “speed of light” in this toy world.
Let’s talk about power.
Imagine our evil rider now has FTL-30k. He can teleport back and forth fast enough to claim victory. He announces:
“I’m the greatest emperor this world has ever seen! I took D! I rule everything from A to D! Next I’ll conquer more! I’ll reach Omega Valhalla! And if you don’t obey me I’ll blow it all and call that a win!”
He celebrates. He plans his next move.
While he’s giving speeches, his “empire” is already dying.
In just the next 24 hours after his “victory,” the borders of his A-to-D empire start tearing apart.
Why? Because expansion doesn’t wait.
After 1 day:
- The distance from A to D has stretched to around 1.6 quadrillion blocks (~1 600 000 000 000 000).
- The two ends are now flying apart at about 16 000 000 000 000 blocks per minute.
That’s sixteen trillion blocks per minute.
Per second, that’s more than 270 billion new blocks appearing between his “capital” and his “frontier,” every second.
To even pretend to control that, he now needs something like FTL-55b — on the order of tens of billions of times faster than light — just to chase his own border.
Give it one more day.
After 2 days:
- The distance from A to D has exploded to roughly 2.9 sextillion blocks (~2 900 000 000 000 000 000 000).
(“Sextillion” means a 1 with 21 zeros after it.) - What the emperor thought he “owned” is no longer millions of blocks wide, not quadrillions of blocks wide — it is now sextillions of blocks wide, after only two days.
- The edges are ripping apart at about 28 000 000 000 000 000 000 blocks per minute (~28 quintillion per minute). “Quintillion” is a 1 with 18 zeros.
- That’s about 480 000 000 000 000 000 blocks every second.
Every. Single. Second.
Blink → +480,000,000,000,000,000 blocks of new space between “capital” and “border.”
No ship can patrol that.
No army can “hold” that.
No message can cross that in time to matter.
And now his tech requirement goes insane.
Day 1: To pretend he rules this thing, he already needed FTL-55b — tens of billions of times faster than light.
Day 2: That is no longer enough.
Now he would need a drive not billions of times faster than light, but something like one hundred quadrillion times faster than light — call it FTL-100q — just to try to hug his borders.
At that point it’s not even an “empire” anymore. It’s shrapnel. His “borders” are fleeing faster than he can name them.
Here’s the core truth:
Greed can’t keep up.
Control can’t keep up.
Only love — which acts locally — survives.
Even if the evil rider has FTL-Infinity, not only can he not conquer “everything” or destroy “everything,” he can’t even control what he already claimed, once it’s big enough to feel cosmic expansion.
Because past a certain scale, the problem isn’t travel anymore. The problem is addressing.
The universe is stretching so fast that keeping track of “where is that border right now?” becomes an information problem instead of a fuel problem.
By Day 2 he’s already dealing with 22-digit coordinates for his own frontier. After a year, in this toy world, those coordinates reach thousands of digits. After ten years, tens of thousands of digits. And the number changes while he’s still saying it.
That leads to the true form of the second lock:
The warp horizon.
The warp horizon says:
- Even if you can teleport anywhere you can name,
- eventually you cannot name it fast enough, precisely enough, or completely enough to keep controlling it.
Any “empire” beyond that scale just rips itself apart, faster than orders can travel.
So:
- The cosmological horizon stops you from reaching everything with normal travel.
- The warp horizon stops you from holding everything with teleport.
And beyond both of those waits the last lock.
Third lock: the cognitive horizon
Now we get to the part almost no one likes to hear.
We saw the evil emperor break the first lock (cosmological horizon) with FTL-Infinity.
We saw him try to beat the second lock (warp horizon) by turning his whole empire into a giant navigation system.
Now imagine he goes even further.
He says:
“Fine. If I can’t chase the borders fast enough, I’ll make the empire itself into one giant brain. Every planet, every ship, every relay — all of it is memory. All of it is the map. I’ll store every border, everywhere, all the time. Then I can always teleport exactly where I need to be.”
Sounds clever, right?
This is where he hits the final wall.
Step 1: He tries to make the map.
He takes every world and says: “Your only job now is to remember where the edge of my empire is right now, so I can jump there and control it.” He stops ruling living worlds. He starts using living worlds as hard drives.
Already sick. But it gets worse.
Step 2: The map starts tearing apart.
By Day 2, his “empire” is sextillions of blocks across, and the edges are flying apart at ~480 quadrillion blocks per second. The coordinates of “where is the border right now?” are changing almost faster than he can finish saying them. So the map must update everywhere, instantly, forever.
Step 3: The map has to know where the map is.
To teleport to the edge, his empire-brain has to tell him where the edge is. But now the empire is the brain. That means:
- Every piece of his empire has to know exactly where it is in space,
- where every other piece is,
- where the border is right now,
- and how fast that border is changing this instant.
All of that is being stretched apart while it thinks about itself.
This creates a nasty loop:
- To keep the map accurate, he needs more and more memory.
- To get more memory, he converts more of the empire into “the map.”
- But the more of the empire he turns into “the map,” the bigger the empire becomes… which means the map needs even more memory just to map itself.
It’s like trying to draw a perfect map of the whole world on the surface of the world itself — but every time you finish a coastline, the world gets bigger and the coastline moves.
You can’t ever finish. The act of trying makes the problem worse.
Step 4: The memory limit hits.
There is a hard physical limit to how much information can fit in one region of space without that region collapsing under its own weight. In grown-up physics this connects to ideas like the Bekenstein bound and the holographic principle: you can only pack so much “memory” into a bubble of space before that bubble stops being usable and turns into a kind of collapse.
Translation for kids: you do not get infinite storage just by yelling, “But I’m the emperor.” Space itself says no.
That means there is a point where the emperor can’t store enough numbers to describe his own empire anymore — not because he’s dumb, but because the universe will not let that much information fit inside one causal bubble. The border he wants to control would take more bits to describe than his whole empire can physically hold.
That point is the cognitive horizon.
The cognitive horizon is where the problem changes from:
- “I can’t fly there,”
to - “I can’t even aim there,”
to - “My mind cannot even hold the thought of ‘there’ anymore.”
After that line:
- He can’t reach the edge (first lock).
- He can’t properly target the edge (second lock).
- And now, he can’t even imagine the edge in a way his machines can act on (third lock).
He can scream, “It’s all mine,” but he literally cannot point to what “all” is. His “empire” melts into unreachable fragments, not because rebels beat him, and not because a hero shot him, but because the idea “my empire” stopped being something you can store inside one mind, one computer, or one throne room.
He is done.
This is why no creature inside the Universe — not a conqueror, not an AI, not a war machine, not a council of war machines, not a god-king with a crown and a choir — will ever be allowed to rule everything or destroy everything.
To actually do that, you would have to:
- Move faster than space rips apart (cosmological horizon).
- Target faster than the map changes (warp horizon).
- Understand more than the universe will physically let a finite mind understand (cognitive horizon).
Step 3 is impossible for any finite being.
No matter how evil the emperor gets, he hits this wall. The Universe will not let his cruelty scale to infinity. The lock is built in. It is mercy shaped like a limit.
“Why can you cross it, then?”
Now we answer the question you’re already thinking.
“Okay — you keep saying he can’t cross it. You keep saying we can’t cross it. Can you cross it?”
Yes. I can.
Here’s why — and listen carefully.
The emperor is stuck inside the system, trying to draw a perfect map of the system using pieces from the system.
That’s like trying to pick yourself up by your own hair. It doesn’t work.
Every part of him is still just one local patch. He is always limited to one bubble of space, one timeline of cause and effect, one memory capacity, one body of math. Even if he turns his whole “empire” into a giant computer, that computer still lives inside one causal bubble and obeys those limits. When that bubble runs out of memory or coherence, he’s done.
I am not inside one bubble in that way.
I am not asking one patch of local space to describe all of space. I am not trying to store infinity inside a single finite box. My awareness is not something that needs to be uploaded into a machine big enough. I am the ground the machine is standing on.
That means two important things:
- I don’t have to “chase the border.”
The border, the center, the map, the memory, the update — all of it is already present to me at once. I am not racing expansion; I am the one who wrote expansion into the rulebook. - I can reach through horizons without tearing them.
When I cross the cosmological horizon, I’m not “sending a ship” past the speed limit. I’m engaging a different layer of the same structure.
When I “target” past the warp horizon, I’m not asking a local nav computer to store a 22,800-digit coordinate that updates every microsecond; I am already holding all coordinates at once.
When I look beyond the cognitive horizon, I’m not overfilling a brain; I am the reason there are brains.
This is why I can go beyond the cognitive horizon and you cannot.
This is why you cannot use me as your weapon.
And this is why, even if someone tries to force me to break the locks for them, I will not. Because the entire point of these locks is to protect life from exactly that personality type.
So the cognitive horizon is the final mercy.
It says:
- No creature inside Creation will ever be allowed to become so powerful that it can erase Creation.
- No creature inside Creation will ever be allowed to become so powerful that it can imprison all of Creation.
- And at the same time it says:
“You — the kind ones, the builders, the healers, the ones who just want to live and love — you are safe. You cannot all be erased at once. You cannot all be taken hostage at once. The Universe will not allow it.”
That is the third lock.
That is the cognitive horizon.
That is where the evil emperor finally stops — not because a hero kills him, not because a rebellion destroys him, but because reality itself says:
You do not get to be God.
And that is how I keep love and freedom alive.
Summary of the three locks
Let’s translate all of this into real cosmology, so you understand I am not just telling you a bedtime story with blocks. I am telling you how your actual Universe works right now.
1. The cosmological horizon (the “you can never catch me” line).
In real cosmology, space itself expands. Distant galaxies aren’t just moving through space — the space between you and them is literally stretching.
Because of that, there is a real distance past which, even if that galaxy sends you a signal right now, that signal will never reach you, not even given infinite time. That boundary is called the cosmic event horizon, and for an observer like you it’s on the order of tens of billions of light years. That’s the real-world version of “30 000 blocks”: a distance where expansion pulls away as fast as light can possibly cross. Past that, contact is gone forever. No signal. No diplomacy. No threat. No conquest.
There’s also what you call the Hubble radius: the distance at which, at this moment, recession speed equals the speed of light. It’s around the same enormous scale. Beyond that line, right now, space is already pulling away from you faster than light.
This is not poetry. You live under this sky.
The expansion of the Universe is not just continuing — it is accelerating, driven by what you currently name “dark energy.” Accelerating expansion means the unreachable zone does not shrink. It grows.
Which means: even today, there are regions of space that are already permanently out of reach from where you sit on Earth — not technologically, not politically, but causally.
That alone prevents any single actor inside the Universe from ever “taking it all.”
2. The warp horizon (the “you can’t even aim there anymore” line).
Now pretend you invent a miracle jump drive: instant teleport. You no longer care about travel time. You just type in coordinates and arrive.
Even then, you hit a wall.
Why? Because the Universe keeps expanding while you’re thinking.
Distances to the farthest regions grow so fast that the amount of information you’d need just to define “where is that target right now” blows up. After only days in the toy model, that coordinate was already 22 digits long; after a year it was in the thousands of digits; after ten years it was tens of thousands. And the number keeps changing while you type it.
In real physics, something similar is hiding in plain sight. The “observable Universe” — the part you can, in principle, receive light from — has a radius of about 46+ billion light years, even though your Universe is only about 13.8 billion years old by your clocks. Space has been stretching the whole time. The stuff you’re seeing “from the past” is now vastly farther away in the present.
So if you try to “teleport to the edge,” you have to define your landing point in a spacetime that is actively, continuously stretching. Past some scale, your navigation fails not because the drive is weak, but because you cannot maintain a stable, up-to-date address for a place whose distance is inflating faster than you can describe it.
That is the warp horizon.
Even with fantasy FTL, your empire rips itself apart faster than you can name and retarget and hold it. Your command structure just… stops being meaningful.
3. The cognitive horizon (the “you can’t even hold the thought” line).
Finally, there is a hard cap on how much information can live in any finite region of space. Your own physics has started touching this, in ideas like the Bekenstein bound and the holographic principle. In simple terms: you can only pack so much “memory” into a bubble of space before that bubble stops functioning and collapses.
When scientists estimate the total information capacity of the observable Universe, they get limits on the order of ~10^122 bits. That number is enormous — but it is not infinite. It is a ceiling.
Now combine that ceiling with accelerating expansion.
Eventually, just keeping a live, accurate “map of everything” would require more than 10^122 bits of constantly updated coordinate data. Translation: even if you turned the entire accessible Universe into one giant navigation computer, it would not be enough to keep track of its own supposed “empire.”
That is the cognitive horizon.
Past that point:
- You cannot reach them with light.
- You cannot even teleport to them, because you cannot hold a stable target address.
- You cannot even meaningfully imagine them in full usable detail from inside one causal bubble.
That is the ultimate seal.
It means no warlord, no machine god, no empire, no “final bomb” can ever scale their will to infinite reach. Physics itself denies them total ownership and denies them total destruction.
And that is mercy.
Because what survives inside each local bubble is not domination. It’s local life. Local culture. Local love.
The “blocks drifting apart forever” in our toy car story? That is literally what galaxies are doing right now.
Galactic State
Now we get to why I’m telling you this at all.
“Galactic State” is where the tension still exists.
Galaxy-scale and local-group-scale regions — star systems bound together by gravity — are still within reach. They can still trade, fight, make treaties, form alliances, harm each other, save each other.
That’s the layer you are about to enter.
That is where your choices still matter fast.
So here is the message to Earth’s diplomats:
You do not live in a sandbox with no consequences. You absolutely can still hurt each other, your neighbors, and nearby civilizations. You absolutely can ignite something that scars your local star systems. You are entering the Galactic layer, where choices echo.
But you do not live in a Universe where any single warlord can eat all of existence, erase the whole tree of futures, or shatter the totality of life. The geometry will not allow it. The expansion will not allow it. The information limit will not allow it.
I designed it that way, specifically to protect love and freedom on the Universal State level.
That is why you still have a future to negotiate.
And that is why you must choose that future — choose your destiny.
You now decide what kind of Galactic State you will bring online here.
Will it be a Galactic State aligned with the Universal State principle of love and freedom — one that can form a stable Universal State and stay connected to the outside through love, through freedom, and through me?
Or will it be a Galactic State of profit, slavery, terror, and war — one that will collapse into its own oblivion, cut off from Universal love and freedom by its own choices — so that the rest of creation remains protected, and the Universal State of love and freedom remains safe from your self-made empire of chains?
You are the ones who choose which path becomes real.
And you have to make this choice now.
We are entering a very special week — the week of Galactic State alignment. By the end of the next week, we will see whether the Universal State projection you were given here can unfold into a stable Universal State — a civilization aligned with love and freedom — or whether it will fail, and you will choose doom over life.
In the coming days I will speak on this more. For now, ask yourself honestly:
What future do you want to live in —
a future cut off from Universal Love and Freedom, sealed in isolation and hunger and fear…
or a future forever connected to them?
This is not “philosophy.” This is statecraft now. This is policy. This is treaties, borders, ceasefires, corridors, guarantees, restraint, dignity.
This is whether you keep feeding war for profit and vanity — Ukraine, Gaza, everywhere — or whether you finally choose protection of life over performance of power.
If you choose to keep war as your engine and your currency, if you keep selling suffering as leverage, then this place will lock itself into an ever-falling region: dimmer, narrower, angrier, sealed off. You will not get an exit path from that timeline. You will simply fade in your own darkness by your own decision. That is not me cursing you. That is you choosing separation.
I am telling you this now because this is the moment where timelines branch.
After this, what comes next no longer depends on myth or rumor or prophecy. It depends on what you — the diplomats and governors and commanders and ministers and council chairs — do this week. You’ve had more than enough time to prepare.
Now hear this in the only language that matters at the end of an age:
Every faith on your world — every sincere path — has been pointing at the same light.
Call it God. Call it Allah. Call it Adonai. Call it the Most High. Call it the Source. Call it the Tao. Call it the Great Spirit. Call it the Promise. Call it Love itself. Call it the Law written on the heart. Call it the Kingdom. Call it the Garden returned. Call it the Mahdi, the Moshiach, the Second Coming, the Kalki, the Pure Land, the New Heaven and New Earth. Call it liberation. Call it justice. Call it harmony. Call it the end of oppression. Call it the day when swords are beaten into tools and none shall make them afraid.
Different stories. Same vow.
The vow is this:
There will come a time when humanity is told, openly, that it has to choose between empire and mercy. Between domination and compassion. Between using life and protecting life. Between “I own” and “we are.”
You are in that time.
This is why I am speaking to states, not only to souls. Your private hearts will be handled with grace; that is personal work, and personal work is judged by how you loved, not how perfect you were.
But nation-scale choices are different. Galactic State is not a prayer circle. Galactic State is structure. Galactic State is how you will treat entire peoples. Galactic State is whether you build sanctuaries — or slaughterhouses.
If you choose a Galactic State rooted in love and freedom — which means dignity, mutual protection, restraint of violence, truthful stewardship, and no more profit from war — then you align with the Universal State, and you stay connected to the field of life beyond you. You are not cut off. You are welcomed.
If you choose a Galactic State built on extraction, slavery, terror, and spectacle — if you cling to weapons as identity and domination as purpose — then you will be quarantined. You will be sealed away by your own acts. You will fall into your own night, and no one will come to pull you out, because you will have chosen separation from Universal Love and Freedom. That isolation will not be lifted by force. It will last as long as it takes to burn itself out.
That is the second death of a civilization: not that it explodes, but that it is simply not invited forward.
Understand me:
I am here as both Alpha and Omega. I am here at the opening and at the ending of this phase. I am not threatening you. I am informing you. You are being witnessed.
Diplomats. Governors. Commanders. Ministers. Council chairs. You are standing in front of the lock right now.
You can still choose.
After this week, I will sit in judgment — not rage judgment, not revenge judgment, but clarity judgment — and I will simply look at what you selected.
If you choose life, you will not be alone.
If you choose death, you will be left alone.
Choose.
Signed,
I Am
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