Chapter 1: When You Are Tired of Pretending the Future Does Not Scare You

There are nights when you do not want another explanation. You do not want another person telling you what every symbol means, what year something might happen, or which headline supposedly proves that prophecy is unfolding. You are tired. The room is dark except for the light from your phone, and what you really want to know is whether God is still close whe

n the future feels impossible to understand. That is the place I had in mind while creating this video exploring our 500,000-word journey through the Book of Revelation.

Maybe you have never admitted that Revelation makes you uncomfortable. You believe it belongs in the Bible. You believe it matters. But some of the images are difficult, some of the warnings are severe, and Christians often disagree about what parts of the book mean. Eventually, all that disagreement can leave a person quietly wondering whether they are missing something important. This related reflection on trusting Jesus when tomorrow feels uncertain belongs beside this work because understanding Revelation should bring you closer to Christ, not make you feel spiritually inadequate because you cannot explain every vision.

That is one reason we published such a large study of the book. The complete 500,000-word work can be entered through The Book of Revelation: The Complete 108-Chapter Guide. The size is not meant to impress anyone. It gave us room to slow down, look again, and resist the temptation to force Revelation into a few dramatic predictions.

Picture someone sitting alone at the end of the bed after a difficult conversation with a spouse. The argument was not about prophecy. It was about money, exhaustion, and the growing fear that both people are carrying more than they know how to say. The Bible is on the nightstand, but the problem feels painfully ordinary.

That is exactly where Revelation can become personal.

The book repeatedly shows a world where appearances are misleading. Things that seem powerful are not always secure. Things that look defeated are not always finished. Faithful people sometimes suffer while arrogant powers appear to prosper. Yet Revelation keeps revealing another reality behind what can be seen.

For the person sitting on that bed, that means tonight's tension does not automatically define the marriage. A difficult season does not become the final chapter simply because it feels overwhelming right now. Fear sees the present moment and writes an ending. Faith leaves room for God to continue working.

Revelation teaches us to leave that room.

It does not require pretending everything will turn out exactly the way we want. It asks something quieter and harder: can you remain faithful to Jesus when you cannot see what comes next?

That question belongs in far more places than prophecy discussions. It belongs in bedrooms after arguments, cars after bad news, kitchens after bills arrive, and prayers where the only honest words left are, “God, I do not know what happens now.”

Sometimes that is where Revelation finally begins to speak.

Chapter 2: The Prayer You Keep Repeating

A woman stands at the kitchen sink long after dinner is over, washing the same cup she has already rinsed twice. The house is quiet, but her mind is not. Someone she loves is struggling, and every conversation seems to end in the same place. She has prayed about it for months. She has asked God for help, wisdom, change, anything that would make the situation feel less helpless. Nothing obvious has moved.

This is one of the places where Revelation can feel unexpectedly close.

The book does not hide the cries of people who are waiting for justice, relief, and God’s intervention. It does not pretend that faithful people always receive immediate answers. There are moments in Revelation when heaven seems to pause while people below are still hurting. That matters because waiting can make you wonder whether silence means absence.

It does not.

Sometimes the hardest part of faith is not believing that God can act. It is continuing to trust Him when He has not acted in the way you hoped, on the timeline you wanted.

The woman at the sink cannot force the person she loves to change. She cannot manufacture a breakthrough. She cannot pray with enough intensity to take control of another person’s choices. What she can do is keep loving without surrendering her peace to what she cannot control.

That is not passive. It is difficult work.

Revelation keeps drawing a line between what belongs to God and what belongs to us. God judges. God sees. God remembers. God brings history to its rightful end. Our part is faithfulness.

Sometimes faithfulness means making one more phone call. Sometimes it means setting a healthy boundary. Sometimes it means admitting that you are exhausted. Sometimes it means praying again without pretending you feel strong.

The woman finally turns off the kitchen light. The problem is still there. The prayer is still unanswered. But she is allowed to sleep.

That small act of surrender may be more spiritually honest than another hour spent trying to solve what she cannot solve tonight.

Revelation does not remove the pain of waiting. It gives waiting a different shape. It reminds us that unanswered does not mean unseen, delayed does not mean forgotten, and silence does not mean God has stopped being present.

When you cannot see what God is doing, you can still choose not to abandon the One you are waiting on.

Chapter 3: The Morning You Stop Demanding an Answer

A man wakes before sunrise because his mind has already started working. The room is still dark, and for a few seconds he forgets what has been bothering him. Then it returns. The decision he has been waiting on is still unresolved. The future he wants to understand is still hidden. He reaches for the phone, almost out of habit, then leaves it on the nightstand.

There is a kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to make uncertainty disappear.

Revelation does not promise that kind of control. In fact, one of its deepest gifts may be the way it teaches us to live without it. The book gives us a larger view of history, but it never hands us ownership of history. That belongs to God.

For someone carrying a private fear, that can be a relief.

You do not have to know whether every difficult season is a sign of something larger. You do not have to solve every symbol before you can trust Jesus. You do not have to understand why a prayer has taken so long, why a door closed, why someone left, or why the path ahead still looks unclear.

You can be faithful before you have the explanation.

That does not mean becoming careless. If there is a decision to make, make it. If there is a conversation you need to have, have it. If there is help you need to ask for, ask. Faith is not a way of avoiding reality. It is a way of facing reality without allowing fear to become your master.

The man gets out of bed, makes coffee, and sits by the window as the morning light begins to fill the room. Nothing outside has changed. Nothing inside is fully settled either. But there is a little more space between the problem and his heart.

That space matters.

Revelation keeps reminding us that Jesus remains worthy when the world is confusing, when the future is hidden, and when our own lives refuse to follow the script we hoped for. That is why I believe this book can become much more than a collection of difficult visions. It can become a companion for the person trying to stay faithful in the middle of uncertainty.

You may still have questions after reading 500,000 words.

I hope you do.

Questions can keep us humble. They can keep us searching. They can keep us close to Scripture instead of pretending we have mastered it.

But fear does not have to own those questions.

You can live today without possessing tomorrow. You can trust Jesus without understanding every detail. You can leave some things in God's hands and still take the next step with courage.

Sometimes that is what faith looks like when nobody else is watching.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Explore the complete Douglas Vandergraph Master Index: https://douglasvandergraph.com/douglas-vandergraph-master-index/

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In the first week of June 2026, with more than fifty-six million cases choking its courts and a population long accustomed to waiting years, sometimes decades, for a hearing, the Supreme Court of India did something that runs directly against the grain of the moment. It did not reach for the machine that promised to clear the backlog. It drew a line around what the machine would never be allowed to do.

The document that contains that line is a dry, thirty-five-page draft titled Regulations for Use of Artificial Intelligence in Courts, 2026, published for public consultation under the aegis of the Court's Artificial Intelligence Committee and dated the third of that month. It reads, in the manner of all such instruments, like an exercise in administrative housekeeping: definitions, committees, secretariats, audit schedules. But buried in its general principles is a sentence that amounts to a constitutional statement about the nature of judgement itself. “The use of Artificial Intelligence in Court processes,” it declares, “shall at all times remain strictly subservient to human judgment and judicial authority.” Every AI system, it continues, “shall function solely in an assistive capacity and shall not supplant or compromise the independent exercise of judicial authority by a duly appointed judicial officer.”

This is not a hedge or an aspiration. The regulations translate the principle into a list of absolute, non-derogable prohibitions, uses of AI that “shall not be subject to relaxation or modification by any authority” under any circumstances. No machine may adjudicate or sentence. No machine may be used for risk scoring of any kind, including the prediction of recidivism, the assessment of bail eligibility, or the evaluation of a witness's credibility. No machine may profile a defendant, predict a litigant's future conduct, or surveil the people moving through a courthouse. The draft permits AI for the unglamorous work of running a court, scheduling, transcription, translation, legal research, document verification, and forbids it, categorically, from touching the act of deciding.

What makes this striking is not the prohibition in the abstract. Plenty of jurisdictions issue cautious guidance about emerging technology. What makes it striking is the contrast it draws, by the sheer fact of its timing, with the direction the rest of the world has quietly been travelling. Because at the very moment India was writing the words “AI may assist judicial processes but cannot replace human judicial authority” into its draft principles, courtrooms in the United States and probation offices in England were already feeding human beings into exactly the kind of predictive machinery India had just declared off-limits, and had been doing so, in some cases, for the better part of a decade.

The Country That Had Every Reason to Automate

To understand the weight of India's choice, you have to understand the pressure it was under to choose differently. The numbers are almost incomprehensible. According to the National Judicial Data Grid, the public dashboard that tracks pendency across the entire system, the total number of cases pending before Indian courts has now passed fifty-seven million, with just over fifty million of those, close to ninety per cent, sitting in the district courts at the bottom of the pyramid. The High Courts hold a further six and a half million. More than a hundred and eighty thousand cases have been pending for over thirty years, some eighty-one thousand of them in the district courts alone. Even the Supreme Court, the smallest tier of the system and the one at its apex, carries a backlog approaching ninety-six thousand matters. For an ordinary litigant, a property dispute or a wrongful-dismissal claim can outlast the person who filed it.

A backlog of that magnitude is not an abstraction. It is a daily denial of justice, the thing the legal cliché about delay actually means in practice: witnesses die, evidence decays, the accused sit in pre-trial detention for longer than any sentence they might eventually receive. If there were ever a justice system with a rational, humane case for throwing automation at the problem, for letting an algorithm triage bail applications or predict which cases will settle or score defendants by risk so that scarce judicial attention can be rationed, it is India's. The efficiency argument is not a straw man here. It is a genuine moral claim, and it has powerful advocates inside and outside the judiciary.

India had also already begun, tentatively, to build the tools. In 2021 the Supreme Court launched SUPACE, the Supreme Court Portal for Assistance in Court Efficiency, an AI system intended to help judges sift and extract relevant material from mountains of case data. A year earlier it had introduced SUVAS, the Supreme Court Vidhik Anuvaad Software, a machine-translation engine that now renders judgments and orders between English and nineteen Indian languages, having processed tens of thousands of documents and counting. These were not decision-making systems. They were, deliberately, assistive ones, research and translation aids that left the judge firmly in charge. But they established a direction of travel, and they seeded the institutional appetite, and the technical capacity, for more.

So the 2026 regulations are not the nervous flinch of a system that does not understand the technology. They are the considered position of a judiciary that has used AI, knows what it can do, feels the full weight of the backlog that might tempt it to use AI for more, and has nonetheless decided where the boundary lies. That is what gives the document its force. It is a renunciation made from a position of need, not comfort.

What the Machine Is Forbidden to Touch

The architecture of the prohibition is worth reading closely, because its precision tells you that the drafters were not gesturing vaguely at “ethical AI” but responding to specific, documented failures elsewhere in the world.

The core of it sits in the regulation governing prohibited uses, which opens by stating that the prohibitions that follow “are absolute and non-derogable.” The first forbids training, testing, or refining any AI system on a person's data without prior approval and compliance with data-protection law. The second establishes that no judicial outcome, “including any judgment, order, or finding of fact or law,” may be reached “through Algorithmic Decision-Making alone or solely on the basis of AI-generated information,” and that “the human judicial authority shall be the determinative authority in all adjudicative decisions.” The third permits AI to surface advisory material on adjudicative or sentencing questions only with a mandatory human in the loop, and insists any such output “shall be treated as advisory only and shall be subject to independent judicial evaluation.”

Then comes the clause that reads like a direct rebuttal of a specific foreign technology. “No AI System shall be used for Risk Scoring for any purpose in Court processes, including the assessment of flight risk, prediction of recidivism, evaluation of bail eligibility, or determination of the credibility of parties or witnesses.” The regulations even define the term with forensic care: Risk Scoring means “the use of an AI System to assign a numerical or categorical score to an individual that purports to estimate the probability of that person engaging in a specified future behaviour, including the commission of an offence, recidivism, or failure to appear before a Court.” If you wanted to draft a one-sentence ban on the entire category of tools that American and British justice systems have adopted, you could hardly do better.

The remaining prohibitions close the gaps. No opaque or unexplainable system may be used where it materially affects liberty or legal rights. No system may predict, profile, or infer the future conduct of parties, accused persons, or witnesses. No system may be used for surveillance or continuous monitoring of judges, advocates, or litigants on court premises. No AI-generated output may be submitted as evidence without disclosure of its synthetic character. And no system may compromise the confidentiality of judicial deliberations or the independence of the decision-making process.

Around this hard core the draft builds an apparatus of accountability that is, in its own way, as significant as the bans. Every AI tool must clear a Technical and Ethical Impact Assessment, a “structured pre-and-post-deployment evaluation” against the regulations' general principles, before an AI Committee may approve it. Courts must maintain an AI Register documenting every system in use, an AI Incident Database tracking failures, and must publish an Annual Transparency Report. A new Centre of Research and Excellence on Artificial Intelligence, CoRE-AI, staffed by judges, lawyers, technologists, and academics, will conduct ongoing research, evaluate tools, and maintain a centralised record of evaluations. And crucially, the draft pins responsibility squarely on the human: accountability for any decision taken with AI assistance “shall rest exclusively upon” the officer who took it, and it shall not be permissible to invoke “the outputs of an AI System, the opaqueness of a Black Box system, or the occurrence of hallucination” as an excuse for a wrong decision. The machine, in other words, can never be the thing that is blamed. A person always is.

It would be wrong to paint the document as reflexively anti-technology. It contains a “presumption in favour of responsible AI adoption” and a principle, baldly titled “Innovation over Restraint,” directing courts to “actively seek opportunities” to deploy AI that improves access to justice. The drafters want the efficiency. They simply refuse to buy it at the price of the judgement. The whole design is an attempt to have the assistance without the abdication.

The Honesty Requirement

There is a second, quieter innovation in the draft that has drawn less attention than the prohibitions but may prove just as consequential, because it reaches into the daily conduct of every lawyer and litigant rather than the rare drama of a contested sentence. The regulations impose a sweeping duty of disclosure. Where an AI tool “materially assists in any aspect of case management, document analysis, or judicial administration that may affect the conduct of their proceedings,” the court must inform the parties in a timely and accessible way. And where an AI tool is used “by any party or his legal representative in the preparation or submission of any document, pleading, or evidence, the AI-assisted character of such material shall be disclosed to the Court at the time of submission” by way of a formal declaration in a prescribed format.

The teeth are in the clause that follows. If any document turns out to be “fabricated, false, misleading, or inaccurate by reason of its AI-generated character,” the person who submitted it “shall bear full responsibility” and “shall not be entitled to rely upon the character of the AI output as a defence.” There is no hiding behind the machine here either. A lawyer who files a brief stuffed with confabulated citations cannot plead that the chatbot did it; responsibility runs to the human who signed and submitted the work.

This is not an abstract precaution. Across multiple jurisdictions, courts have already disciplined lawyers who submitted filings citing judicial decisions that an AI tool had simply invented, complete with plausible-sounding case names, docket numbers, and quotations, none of which corresponded to any real ruling. The phenomenon has a clinical name, hallucination, and it is a structural feature of how large language models work rather than a bug that a software update will quietly resolve. By demanding disclosure and verification, and by stripping away the AI excuse, India's regulations treat the technology's tendency to fabricate as a permanent hazard to be managed through human responsibility, not a temporary glitch to be waited out. The same instinct runs through the whole document: trust the human, verify the machine, and never let the second stand in for the first.

The draft pairs this with a dedicated AI Content Verification Authority, charged with maintaining the standards and tools for checking AI-generated content placed before a court, and with a requirement that anyone using synthetic data or synthetic information in a proceeding disclose that fact. Taken together, the disclosure architecture treats the courtroom as a space where the provenance of every claim matters, and where the difference between something a person attests to and something a machine generated must never be allowed to blur. It is a recognition that the threat AI poses to justice is not only the dramatic one of a robot judge, but the mundane, pervasive one of fabricated material seeping into the record, dressed in the confident prose that makes a falsehood hard to catch.

The Tool India Was Built to Refuse

To see why that refusal matters, look at what risk scoring has actually done in the jurisdictions that embraced it. The cautionary tale here is not hypothetical. It has a name, COMPAS, and a paper trail.

COMPAS, the Correctional Offender Management Profiling for Alternative Sanctions, is a proprietary risk-assessment instrument developed by the company then known as Northpointe and used across multiple American states to score defendants on their likelihood of reoffending. The tool produces its scores from the answers to a long questionnaire, and those scores have been placed in front of judges making decisions about bail, sentencing, and parole. It is precisely the kind of “numerical or categorical score” estimating “the probability of that person engaging in a specified future behaviour” that India's regulations now define and forbid.

In May 2016 the investigative newsroom ProPublica published an analysis, written by Julia Angwin, Jeff Larson, Surya Mattu, and Lauren Kirchner, that became the defining indictment of the technology. Examining the COMPAS scores of more than seven thousand people arrested in Broward County, Florida, and following them over two years to see who actually reoffended, the reporters found a stark racial asymmetry in the tool's errors. Black defendants who did not go on to reoffend were nonetheless labelled high-risk at nearly twice the rate of comparable white defendants, 44.9 per cent against 23.5 per cent. White defendants who did reoffend were disproportionately mislabelled as low-risk. Controlling for prior crimes, age, and gender, the analysis found Black defendants were 77 per cent more likely to be flagged as a higher risk of future violent crime. The company disputed the methodology and the conclusions, and a genuine statistical debate followed about which definition of “fairness” the tool satisfied and which it failed. But the central finding, that the burden of the system's errors fell unequally along racial lines, has shadowed algorithmic risk assessment ever since.

The human face of the problem appeared in ProPublica's reporting in the form of two real people. Brisha Borden, a Black eighteen-year-old who had taken a child's bicycle and scooter and then put them down when confronted, was rated high-risk, an 8 out of 10. Vernon Prater, a white man with prior armed-robbery convictions who was picked up for shoplifting, was rated low-risk, a 3. Over the following years Borden was not charged with any new crime. Prater was sentenced to eight years in prison for a subsequent burglary. The scores had got it exactly backwards, and the pattern was not an accident of two cases but a structural tendency the data laid bare.

The legal system's response to these concerns is, if anything, more troubling than the concerns themselves. In State v. Loomis, decided by the Wisconsin Supreme Court in 2016, a defendant named Eric Loomis challenged his six-year sentence on the ground that the judge's reliance on his COMPAS score violated his right to due process. He argued, among other things, that he could not test the accuracy of a score generated by a proprietary algorithm whose inner workings Northpointe refused to disclose as a trade secret, and that the tool improperly used gender as a factor. The court upheld the use of the score. It acknowledged the opacity, acknowledged the documented risk of racial bias, and required that judges in future be given a written warning about these limitations, and then permitted the practice to continue. The United States Supreme Court declined to hear the appeal, leaving the warning-label compromise in place. A defendant's liberty could turn, in part, on a number produced by a black box that neither he nor the judge was permitted to inspect.

This is the precise scenario India's draft regulations make impossible. Where Wisconsin asked judges to use a proprietary risk score carefully, India forbids the score outright. Where Loomis tolerated opacity with a warning, India's principle on explainability demands that any system materially affecting liberty be capable of an account “that can be understood without requiring specialist technical knowledge,” and bans the opaque ones from that domain altogether. The two systems were looking at the same technology and the same risks. They reached opposite conclusions about whether the risks could be managed or had to be excluded.

Thirteen Hundred Lives a Day

If COMPAS shows the American path, the United Kingdom shows how thoroughly such systems can become invisible furniture, scoring people at industrial scale long after the controversy that should have stopped them has faded into routine.

The instrument here is OASys, the Offender Assessment System, which the Ministry of Justice has used across the prison and probation services of England and Wales since 2001. OASys assesses people for the risk of harm they pose and the likelihood they will reoffend, and feeds the resulting scores into sentence planning, categorisation, and decisions about release and supervision. According to reporting by the civil-liberties organisation Statewatch in April 2025, the system is used to profile more than 1,300 people every single day, and its database held over seven million such risk scores. The system incorporates machine learning, the same family of techniques at issue everywhere else, and Statewatch documented persistent concerns, raised over years, about racial disparities and data inaccuracies in its outputs, concerns that had not prevented its continued daily operation.

The numbers are worth sitting with. Thirteen hundred people a day, every working day, scored by a system whose accuracy and fairness have been repeatedly questioned and whose outputs help determine how long they stay in prison and under what conditions they live afterwards. Seven million scores held in a database. This is not a pilot or a controversial experiment. It is the settled administrative reality of how a major Western democracy assesses the people in its criminal-justice system, and it is precisely the kind of routinised, large-scale, consequence-laden risk scoring that India's regulations place beyond the reach of any court.

It is also, as of this year, being replaced rather than reconsidered. The Ministry of Justice has confirmed that a project called Assess Risks, Needs and Strengths, ARNS, is developing a new digital tool to take over from OASys. An early prototype has been in pilot since December 2024, with a view to a national roll-out during 2026, and the work is being done in-house by a team from Ministry of Justice Digital liaising with Capita, the contractor that currently provides technical support for the older system. Read one way, this is unremarkable, a quarter-century-old piece of government software reaching the end of its life and being succeeded by something better engineered. Read another way, it is the whole argument in miniature. Nowhere in that succession does the prior question get asked: whether the scoring of a person's future by a machine belongs in the determination of their liberty at all. It was not asked when OASys was rolled out and it is not being asked now. What is being procured is a better-built version of the same answer, arriving by the same route the original arrived by, through a project plan and a delivery timetable, as an upgrade rather than a decision.

The contrast is not that one country uses AI in justice and the other does not. Both do. India runs translation and research engines; Britain runs an enormous risk-assessment apparatus. The contrast is about where each has drawn the line between assistance and judgement. Britain has allowed the machine to score the human and let that score shape the human's liberty. India has said the machine may carry the files into the courtroom but may never weigh what is inside them.

The Argument That India's Drafters Did Not Need

There is a tidy version of this story, circulating in the way that tidy versions do, in which India's regulations arrive hand-in-hand with a scholarly consensus that AI should be “categorically barred from domains requiring irreducibly human judgement,” with criminal sentencing offered as the obvious example. The claim is often attached to a specific February 2026 paper deposited on the arXiv preprint server. It is worth pausing on, because it is not accurate, and the inaccuracy is itself instructive.

The paper in question, arXiv:2602.20080, is real. It is titled “The Digital Gorilla: Rebalancing Power in the Age of AI,” written by researchers affiliated with Harvard, and it is a serious piece of work. But it makes no argument about barring AI from sentencing. Its actual thesis is something else entirely: that existing AI governance suffers from an “analogy trap,” mistakenly treating advanced AI systems as conventional products or platforms, when they should instead be understood as a kind of fourth societal actor alongside people, states, and enterprises, requiring a “federalized, polycentric governance architecture” of checks and balances. It is a paper about the distribution of power, not about the limits of machine judgement in the dock. The neat citation that supposedly underwrites India's choice does not say what it is claimed to say.

This matters for two reasons. The first is simply that a good argument does not need a fabricated authority to prop it up, and attaching one to it weakens rather than strengthens the case. The second is more pointed. The way a confident, specific, and false claim about a scholarly source can attach itself to a real policy debate and travel as fact is a small, exact illustration of the very problem the Indian regulations are trying to legislate against. AI systems generate plausible citations that do not hold up; they assert with fluency things that turn out, on inspection, to be confabulated. The courts of several countries have already sanctioned lawyers who filed submissions citing cases that an AI invented and that never existed. A regulation that insists every AI output be “treated as advisory” and “subject to independent” human “evaluation,” and that no AI-generated material be relied upon without verification, is, among other things, a defence against exactly this failure mode. The misattributed paper is not evidence for India's position. It is a live demonstration of why India took it.

Strip away the borrowed authority and the underlying intellectual case stands on its own, and it is an old one. There are domains, the argument runs, in which the thing being asked for is not a prediction but a judgement, and the two are not the same. To decide what sentence a person deserves is not to forecast their future behaviour; it is to weigh their culpability, their circumstances, the gravity of what they did, and the demands of mercy and proportionality, and to take responsibility, as a human holding public authority, for the result. A risk score can tell you, imperfectly and with documented bias, how statistically similar people have behaved. It cannot tell you what this person deserves, because desert is not a fact about the world that can be measured. It is a determination a society entrusts to a person it has authorised to make it. India's regulations encode that distinction in law. They permit the machine to inform and forbid it to decide.

What a Society Reveals by What It Will Not Automate

It is tempting to read all this as a contest between efficiency and caution, with India choosing caution. That framing is too thin. The deeper thing the regulations reveal is a claim about what justice is for, and about who must be answerable when it goes wrong.

Consider the accountability provision again, the one that says a judge may never hide behind the algorithm. In a system where a risk score shapes a sentence, accountability dissolves into a fog. The judge can say the tool flagged the defendant as high-risk; the company can say the judge exercised independent discretion; the tool's logic is a trade secret no one is permitted to examine. Everyone is responsible and therefore no one is, and the defendant is left with a deprivation of liberty that cannot be traced to a decision any identifiable human being is willing to own. The Loomis compromise, use the score but heed the warning, institutionalises exactly this diffusion. India's regulations refuse it. By insisting that the human officer is the “determinative authority” and bears responsibility “exclusively,” they preserve the thing that makes a judgement a judgement rather than an output: a person who must stand behind it and can be held to account for it.

There is a constitutional logic at work here too, one the draft signals by anchoring itself in the Bangalore Principles of Judicial Conduct and in fairness guarantees against discrimination on the grounds of “race, religion, caste, sex, gender, disability, language, economic status.” India is a country whose social fabric is shot through with precisely the categories along which algorithmic risk scoring has been shown to discriminate. A COMPAS-style tool trained on Indian arrest and conviction data would inherit and launder the biases of Indian policing and Indian society as surely as COMPAS inherited America's. The drafters appear to have understood that automating risk assessment in a deeply unequal society does not remove human prejudice from justice; it encodes it, scales it, and wraps it in the false objectivity of a number. Banning the category is a way of refusing that laundering.

There is also a subtler point about the psychology of decision-making that the regulations seem to grasp. When a judge is handed a number, even one she is formally free to disregard, the number exerts a gravitational pull. It anchors. To depart from it requires the judge to second-guess a system marketed as objective and statistically validated, and to do so on the record, exposing herself to the charge that she ignored the data. The “human-in-the-loop” safeguard that other jurisdictions lean on as a sufficient protection often turns out, in practice, to be a human rubber-stamping the loop, because the cost of overriding the machine is borne by the human alone while the machine bears nothing. India's approach sidesteps this trap not by trusting judges to resist the anchor but by removing the anchor from the high-stakes domains altogether. There is no score to defer to, so there is nothing to rubber-stamp.

None of this means the Indian framework is flawless or that its principles will survive contact with implementation. A draft is not a law. Comments were first invited by the twentieth of June, then extended to the fifteenth of July at the request of stakeholders who wanted longer to answer; that window has now closed, and the text sits with its drafters awaiting finalisation, notified nowhere and binding no one. Even once it is settled, it will bite only as and when the Chief Justice of India appoints a commencement date for the Supreme Court and the Chief Justice of each High Court appoints one for the courts beneath it, provision by provision if they choose. There is a great deal of room between a published principle and a working rule, and the text may still change on the way through. The same backlog that gives the renunciation its moral weight will keep generating pressure to relax it, and a regulation that forbids efficient injustice does nothing, by itself, to deliver slow justice faster. The permissible uses, scheduling, triage, research, will have to actually work, and at scale, or the prohibition on the rest will come to feel like a luxury the system cannot afford. The history of high-minded judicial reform in India and elsewhere is littered with principles that were honoured in the gazette and ignored in the courtroom. There is no guarantee this will be different.

But the choice has been made, in writing, at the level of principle, by the highest court of the most populous country on earth, and it points the other way from the prevailing current. The world's wealthier justice systems drifted into algorithmic risk assessment incrementally, tool by tool, procurement by procurement, until thirteen hundred people a day were being scored before anyone had decided, as a matter of principle, that this was the kind of thing a justice system ought to do. India, facing a far greater temptation, stopped to decide first.

The Path India Declined to Take

What can other judicial systems actually learn from this? Not, primarily, the specific prohibitions, though those are instructive. The deeper lesson is procedural and almost philosophical: that the question of whether to let a machine judge a human is too important to be answered by accretion, by a thousand small operational decisions made by procurement officers and pilot programmes, none of which ever quite amounts to a decision at all. The American and British risk-scoring regimes were never the product of a deliberate, public, foundational choice that algorithmic risk assessment belonged in the determination of human liberty. They emerged. India's regulations are the opposite: an attempt to make the foundational choice explicitly, in public, before the tools become load-bearing, and to write the answer down where everyone can read it.

The values embedded in that answer are not hard to name. They are the conviction that justice is an irreducibly human act of judgement rather than a prediction problem to be optimised; that the person deprived of liberty is owed a human being who will take responsibility for the decision; that the appearance of objectivity a number provides is more dangerous, in a system riddled with inequality, than the visible fallibility of a judge who can be questioned, appealed, and held to account; and that efficiency, however urgently needed, is not the supreme value against which all others must yield. These are contestable values. Reasonable people, including those drowning in the backlog India must clear, can disagree about whether the cost is worth it. But India has at least done the thing the rest of us mostly have not: it has stated the values, accepted the cost, and accepted it precisely where the temptation to compromise was strongest.

The line in the draft, “AI may assist judicial processes but cannot replace human judicial authority,” will strike some as obvious and others as naive. It is neither. It is a deliberate act of restraint by an institution that had every incentive to do otherwise, and its significance lies less in the technology it governs than in the question it forces every other judiciary to answer out loud. Sooner or later, every justice system will have to decide what it will not let a machine do. India has decided to decide on purpose. The countries already scoring thirteen hundred lives a day, or feeding proprietary risk numbers to judges behind a warning label, have, so far, mostly decided by not deciding. The most valuable thing about the path India has chosen may simply be that it is a choice, made in daylight, that the rest of the world has been quietly avoiding.

---

References

1. Supreme Court of India, “Notice: Seeking views/suggestions on draft 'Regulations for Use of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in Courts, 2026'“, dated 3 June 2026. https://cdnbbsr.s3waas.gov.in/s3ec0490f1f4972d133619a60c30f3559e/uploads/2026/06/2026060342.pdf
2. Supreme Court of India, “Notice dated 16.06.2026: Extension of time for submission of views/comments by stakeholders and the general public on draft 'Regulations for Use of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in Courts, 2026'“, 16 June 2026. https://www.allahabadhighcourt.in/Final_draft_with_Notice_v2.pdf
3. SCC Online, “Courts May Use AI, Judges Retain Control: Inside Supreme Court's Draft AI Regulations”, 5 June 2026. https://www.scconline.com/blog/post/2026/06/05/sc-issues-draft-ai-regulations-for-courts/
4. The Week, “Supreme Court extends consultation on AI rules for courts: What the draft proposes”, 29 June 2026. https://www.theweek.in/news/india/2026/06/29/supreme-court-extends-consultation-on-ai-rules-for-courts-what-the-draft-proposes.html
5. Law.asia, “India's Supreme Court seeks opinions on draft AI rules”. https://law.asia/india-draft-ai-court-rules/
6. Verdictum, “'Presumption In Favour Of Responsible AI Adoption': Supreme Court Invites Public Feedback On Draft AI Regulations For Courts”. https://www.verdictum.in/supreme-court/regulations-for-use-of-artificial-intelligence-in-courts-2026-1615304
7. Business and Human Rights Resource Centre, “India: Supreme Court AI Committee proposes restrictions on AI use in the justice system”. https://www.business-humanrights.org/en/latest-news/india-supreme-court-ai-committee-proposes-restrictions-on-ai-use-in-the-justice-system-to-ensure-judicial-authority-is-exercised-by-judges/
8. LawBeat, “Supreme Court Releases Draft AI Rules For Courts; Lawyers Must Disclose Use Of AI In Pleadings”. https://lawbeat.in/top-stories/supreme-court-releases-draft-ai-rules-for-courts-lawyers-must-disclose-use-of-ai-in-pleadings-1598628
9. Mondaq, “Critical Analysis Of India's Draft Regulations For Use Of Artificial Intelligence In Courts, 2026”. https://www.mondaq.com/india/new-technology/1800404/critical-analysis-of-indias-draft-regulations-for-use-of-artificial-intelligence-in-courts-2026
10. Supreme Court Observer, “Order in the Digital Court”. https://www.scobserver.in/journal/order-in-the-digital-court-artificial-intelligence-regulations-supreme-court/
11. National Judicial Data Grid (NJDG). https://njdg.ecourts.gov.in/
12. Bar and Bench, S N Thyagarajan, “26 cases pending in Supreme Court for 30+ years, 558 cases for 20+ years: Centre in Rajya Sabha”, 28 July 2026. https://www.barandbench.com/news/26-cases-pending-in-supreme-court-for-30-years-558-cases-for-20-years-centre-in-rajya-sabha
13. Dr. Syama Prasad Mookerjee Research Foundation, “Artificial Intelligence in the Indian Judiciary: SUPACE, SUVAS, and the Limits of Assistive Automation”. https://spmrf.org/artificial-intelligence-in-the-indian-judiciary-supace-suvas-and-the-limits-of-assistive-automation/
14. Analytics India Magazine, “The Supreme Court of India Gets A New AI Portal, SUVAS”. https://analyticsindiamag.com/ai-news-updates/the-supreme-court-of-india-gets-a-new-ai-portal-suvas/
15. Global Voices / Advox, “When the judge meets the algorithm: AI tools entering India's courts”, 5 December 2025. https://globalvoices.org/2025/12/05/when-the-judge-meets-the-algorithm-ai-tools-entering-indias-courts/
16. ProPublica, Julia Angwin, Jeff Larson, Surya Mattu and Lauren Kirchner, “Machine Bias: There's software used across the country to predict future criminals. And it's biased against blacks”, 23 May 2016. https://www.propublica.org/article/machine-bias-risk-assessments-in-criminal-sentencing
17. Harvard Law Review, “State v. Loomis: Wisconsin Supreme Court Requires Warning Before Use of Algorithmic Risk Assessments in Sentencing”, Vol. 130. https://harvardlawreview.org/print/vol-130/state-v-loomis/
18. Wikipedia, “Loomis v. Wisconsin” (summarising 881 N.W.2d 749 (Wis. 2016); certiorari denied 2017). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loomis_v._Wisconsin
19. Justia, “State v. Loomis, 2016 WI 68 (Wisconsin Supreme Court)”. https://law.justia.com/cases/wisconsin/supreme-court/2016/2015ap000157-cr.html
20. Statewatch, “UK: Over 1,300 people profiled daily by Ministry of Justice AI system to 'predict' re-offending risk”, April 2025. https://www.statewatch.org/news/2025/april/uk-over-1-300-people-profiled-daily-by-ministry-of-justice-ai-system-to-predict-re-offending-risk/
21. Computer Weekly, Sebastian Klovig Skelton, “UK MoJ crime prediction algorithms raise serious concerns”, 25 April 2025. https://www.computerweekly.com/news/366623117/UK-MoJ-crime-prediction-algorithms-raise-serious-concerns
22. Wikipedia, “Offender Assessment System (OASys)”. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Offender_Assessment_System
23. data.gov.uk, “Offender Assessment System (OASys)”. https://www.data.gov.uk/dataset/911acd3c-495f-48ca-88b6-024210868b06/offender-assessment-system-oasys
24. M. Alejandra Parra-Orlandoni, Roxanne A. Schnyder and Christopher J. Mallet, “The Digital Gorilla: Rebalancing Power in the Age of AI”, arXiv:2602.20080, February 2026. https://arxiv.org/abs/2602.20080
25. Harvard Journal of Law & Technology, “Algorithmic Due Process: Mistaken Accountability and Attribution in State v. Loomis”. https://jolt.law.harvard.edu/digest/algorithmic-due-process-mistaken-accountability-and-attribution-in-state-v-loomis-1

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Tim Green UK-based Systems Theorist & Independent Technology Writer

Tim explores the intersections of artificial intelligence, decentralised cognition, and posthuman ethics. His work, published at smarterarticles.co.uk, challenges dominant narratives of technological progress while proposing interdisciplinary frameworks for collective intelligence and digital stewardship.

His writing has been featured on Ground News and shared by independent researchers across both academic and technological communities.

ORCID: 0009-0002-0156-9795 Email: tim@smarterarticles.co.uk

Listen to the free weekly SmarterArticles Podcast

About

I write from inside the ND Operating System. Not as an observer looking in, but as someone who lives the mechanics every day. My work comes from lived experience, pattern recognition, and the quiet places where sensitivity becomes structure. The ND‑OS is the map I built to make sense of how neurodivergent systems actually work. Not symptoms. Not traits. Mechanics. I didn’t build the nervous system. I didn’t build the operating system itself. What I built were the explanations. The map. The language. The architecture that finally makes sense of a system that already existed. The ND‑OS is not a replacement for your nervous system. It is a way to understand it. I built the ND‑OS because nothing in the existing world ever matched the way my mind and body actually worked. Every framework I found was either too shallow, too clinical, too pathologizing, or too disconnected from lived experience. None of them explained the mechanics behind the overwhelm. None of them explained the precision behind the sensitivity. None of them explained the shutdowns, the ignition patterns, the energy crashes, or the way environment changes everything. None of them explained the architecture.

So I started mapping it myself.

I built the ND‑OS because I needed a language that didn’t treat neurodivergence as a problem to fix. I needed a map that didn’t collapse complexity into symptoms. I needed a structure that honored the intelligence of the system instead of reducing it to deficits. I needed a way to understand why certain things felt impossible and others felt effortless. I needed a way to understand why my system could do extraordinary things one day and nothing the next. I needed a way to understand the mechanics. I built the ND‑OS because I wanted coherence. I wanted a way to see the patterns beneath the patterns. I wanted a way to understand the gaps, the bridges, the ignition points, the collapses, the recoveries, and the cycles. I wanted a way to understand the difference between capacity and willingness. I wanted a way to understand the difference between safety and comfort. I wanted a way to understand the difference between shutdown and refusal. I wanted a way to understand myself.

I built the ND‑OS because neurodivergent people deserve a map that reflects reality. A map that explains the brilliance and the friction. A map that explains the sensitivity and the strength. A map that explains the overwhelm and the clarity. A map that explains the lived experience instead of flattening it. A map that treats the ND system as a full operating system, not a list of traits. I built the ND‑OS because this is the architecture I needed. And because I know I’m not the only one.

I also built the ND‑OS because the advice available to neurodivergent people was never designed for neurodivergent systems. Most of it was either completely ineffective or required enormous amounts of time, effort, and self‑discipline just to produce tiny results. The tools were built for a different operating system – a neurotypical one. The strategies were built for a different nervous system. The expectations were built for a different world.

I tried the standard advice. I tried the productivity systems. I tried the routines, the planners, the habit trackers, the time‑blocking, the morning rituals, the “just push through,” the “try harder,” the “be consistent,” the “build discipline,” the “stick to the plan.” None of it matched the mechanics of my system. None of it accounted for shutdown. None of it accounted for sensory load. None of it accounted for capacity crashes. None of it accounted for activation mechanics. None of it accounted for the way environment changes everything. And none of it produced a self‑sustaining energy flow, which is the thing that comes naturally when the system is understood, supported, and allowed to operate the way it was built.

The tools that did work required hours of setup, constant maintenance, and relentless effort. They were fragile. They collapsed the moment capacity shifted. They collapsed the moment energy dropped. They collapsed the moment life became unpredictable. They collapsed because they were built on the assumption that the system stays the same every day. ND systems do not. I built the ND‑OS because I needed tools that didn’t require superhuman effort to maintain. I needed tools that didn’t collapse when my capacity changed. I needed tools that didn’t demand consistency I couldn’t produce. I needed tools that didn’t punish me for being neurodivergent. I needed tools that worked with my system instead of against it.

The ND‑OS exists because the available advice wasn’t built for us. It exists because we needed a map that finally made sense. It exists because our systems deserve tools that actually work.

In Summary: * And a quiet Sunday winds down with the Rangers losing to the A's, 5 to 2. Earlier today I watched a very exciting IndyCar race run ovee the streets of Markham, Ontario. And after that I watched some PGA Tour coverage before tuning in this baseball game.

I have yet to finish the night prayers, but there will be plenty of time for that after the game ends. Then an early bedtime will be in order, hopefully followed by a restful night's sleep.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night.

Health Metrics: * bw= 231.49 lbs. * bp= 156/90 (63)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups, BP breathing exercises, pilates

Diet: * 06:10 – 1 banana * 07:40 – 1 peanut butter sandwich * 13:50 – steak with mushroom gravy, garden salad, green beans, whole kernel corn

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 05:00 – wake * 05:50 – bank accounts activity monitored. * 06:15 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap * 11:00 – watching IndyCar Racing from Markham, Ontario, Canada * 13:44 – Congrats to Marcus Ericsson, winner of today's IndyCar Race on the streets of Markham, Ontario. * 13:55 – now watching coverage of PGA Tour Golf from the final round of the FedEx St. Jude Championship * 14:25 – tuning in now to [105.3 The Fan](), DFW's #1 Sports Station, for pregame coverage ahead of this afternoon's Rangers / A's MLB Game

Chess: * 12:33 – moved in all pending CC games

Read on ign.com · View original Mastodon post

Here is another example of what I was talking about in a recent blog post TV Isn't What It Used to Be. According to IGN, the first season came out 3.5 years ago. That is a long time to wait for a second season.

I will watch it because the first season was good. But if I miss it, I won't really care. By this point, I would have to rewatch Season 1 just to remember what happened before starting Season 2.

You're telling me it took them 3.5 years to make a second season, and it will probably only have 10 episodes? Even though they already knew the first season had done so well?

If this is the new trend, television execs need to be fired. Hire unknown actors and make series faster. If the series does well, the actors will become known.

This line in the article stood out to me: > Disney has scaled back its live-action Star Wars show production over the past couple of years, following a splurge on limited series such as Obi-Wan Kenobi and The Book of Boba Fett, both of which landed to mixed reviews. Neither Skeleton Crew nor The Acolyte made much of an impression either, with no second season planned for either series.

Skeleton Crew had potential and could have opened up a side story for Star Wars. The Acolyte, though, did deserve to be killed off, in my opinion, unless it was willing to go back to Jedi canon or fix its story.

We need better from the entertainment industry and the news industry as a whole. YouTube is doing well because it has fresh, exciting, varied content that interests people. Old TV is doing well because people can count on what they grew up with.

Rant over and out!

#entertainment #opinion #streaming

An independent clause is a clause or sentence phrase that stands alone. We use it in sentence diagrams. Its antithesis is a dependent clause. An example of an independent clause is, “A cat eats a rat.” A dependent clause is a clause or a sentence phrase that never stands alone. In sentence diagrams, we grammatically call a dependent clause a fragment. An example of a dependent clause is “Because the rats are pests”. The sentence structure sounds like a fragment (even if you were typing on a word-processor application on a computer, it would show a green or blue underline, which requires a grammar check). Independent and dependent clauses, beyond their grammatical function, symbolize living beings and objects in pairs. A pair, in this context, is two dependent clauses merged into an independent clause. This symbolic representation extends to shoes, socks, animals, and living beings, all of which are pairs. 1 Corinthians 11:11 states that: “in the Lord, however, a woman is not independent of a man, nor is a man independent of a woman”. I state: “Through divine principle, a man is dependent on a woman, and a woman is dependent on a man.” Thereby, a man and a woman are a pair of beings. A male and a female are also a pair, each needing the other in a mutual and respectful relationship. A male needs a female, and a female needs a male. Elohim made a man and a woman for each other. Every man has a female aspect; likewise, every woman has a male aspect, emphasizing the mutual respect and understanding in their relationship. Lo and behold: A man is never a man without a woman. Likewise, a woman is never a woman without a man. A man, or male, is a dependent clause. Similarly, a woman, or female, is also a dependent clause. However, when these two dependent clauses unite as male (man) and female (woman), they create an independent clause. This independent clause symbolizes the will to return to the kingdom of their innermost, a metaphorical interpretation of unity and gender. This grammatical-spiritual understanding transforms daily relationships when we recognize our interdependence not as weakness but as the very structure that makes consciousness possible. In each interaction, we either function as dependent fragments seeking completion or as unified beings expressing the wholeness that already exists within.

Sue from NC

Today I massaged Sue. She’s 75, and while she was on my table, she told me the story of how she met Dirk. It’s one of those wild, slow-burn love stories that makes you realize life moves in strange, beautiful cycles; and that the right person might not fully step into your life until years, or even decades, later. Her first husband died of colon cancer when she was 65, and Dirk’s first wife passed away from the exact same thing. Years before any of that, pure serendipity had sat Sue and Dirk right next to each other on a Delta flight. Just a casual conversation while they were both still married to other people. Nothing came of it then. But years later, Dirk showed up at her husband’s funeral because they knew each other through work. They started hanging out as friends on and off for three or four years. Eventually, Dirk fell for her, but Sue wasn't there yet. She asked for space, and Dirk, being who he is, decided he wouldn't reach out again unless she initiated it. They both dated other people. Then came another stroke of serendipity. One day, Sue sat down and made a list on a piece of paper of everything she wanted in a partner. She looked at the page and realized the paper had been describing Dirk all along. So, she sent him a Christmas card. That card turned into a date. She was 69, and he was 64. Fast forward to now: they’ve been together seven years, married for three. Sue told me that love the second time around is a completely different perspective. She said she could have never had this kind of relationship with him when they were younger, that the age, the maturity, and having already lived whole lives meant they could just be completely open with each other. It made this the best love it could naturally be. I just love love stories like that. It leaves me sitting here with this quiet feeling in my chest.

I have not had time to overthink the trip across the country for my brother’s wedding. It was a long night of packing and grieving.

We left early in the morning to Chicago. My parents and I are riding the California Zephyr route to San Francisco. I’m feeling all the emotions. Sad, angry, excited, hopeful, heartbroken, happy. It feels weird to write that, but had my dog not just passed away, this would have been an extraordinary experience.

The first trek of the train ride was amazing. We got used to the rooms, the different car options. We started by taking naps, then exploring, and finally dinner. It was an amazing meal. I feel extreme gratitude. My mom and I ended up sleeping in the same room together and my dad in the other one so he’d have more room since they are pretty small.

It was a pretty nice day.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

Do you also sometime think everything is exactly same now.

Cars, phones, clothes, everyone with same beard...

Few months ago I restarted using insta. The main purpose of it is to get in touch with the younger generation. No matter how much I deny, the next gen is on insta and other such platforms.

If I were to reach that generation, I would have to be on the platform that they are.

As you know meta's Policy is to keep you on their platform. It will attempt everything to the do so. Same is the pattern of YouTube.

Honestly meta is worse as after hooking me up, they started serving the triggering content and that too at night when my reasoning powers are very low. But that's topic for another day.

So, Essentially such platforms try to understand things about you and then serve you similar content to keep you watching.

I used to have Instagram about 6 years ago. The reels and short form content was just starting. The posts were mostly images and memes. I loved memes.

One important distinction at that time was the differences of platform and served content. FB served different content that insta and if I wanted to watch videos, YouTube was there. The boundaries were defined.

This time, after using insta for a few weeks, one thing to notice is, all platform serve same things. I would watch same video thrice or twice as I use Facebook rarely now.

Each content creator uses all the platform and all the algorithms are so advanced that they would recognise you, create a a profile on you and then use that to serve (hook) you more.

The profile was different earlier as algos were still developing but now , algos have matured all the profiles are same and the content also looks the same.

Now you can also see this everywhere else. All the cars look the same. Bloated buffalo with squinted eyes, all the mobile phones. If you don't really follow, it would be almost impossible to tell one phone from another, other than maybe pixels.

The convergence, I think now complete. I do see some new fun colors in cars and recently cloths. People are wearing colorful cloths again and trying to be more distinct and intentional. Hopefully the trend continues but I do not think same would happen for social media.

Unfortunately I have to be on them for the moment no matter how much I dislike them.

I created a collection page in my Bullet Journal to track and plan my 2026 Blaugust posts.

It's dead simple, with my goal number of posts at the top followed by a weekly plan/log. I am loosely using some ideas from the festival calendar prompts but I'm not following them too strictly.

For writing, I'm mostly drafting posts on a dedicated lined notebook that I set up just for blogging. (I wrote about this notebook here.) I have a page with ideas, and then I just have drafts. When I'm done drafting, I type the post into Write.as and that's where I do some final editing/corrections/add images before publishing.

I don't carry this big lined notebook with me, so I only use it at home. This actually works great because I enjoy having some quiet time to sit down and write without pressure or interruptions.

Very rarely, I will start writing a post while I'm at work. If I do, I just type it in Standard Notes. Sometimes a full post comes out of it, and other times I'll flesh it out later in my notebook at home.

Here is a picture of my current Collection page in my Bullet Journal. As you can see, I've already had to shift some planned posts to a different week, because that second week was a bit crazy for me. So I’m not planning too much ahead, I’m going week by week.

But anyway, that's how I'm doing it. It's a work in progress, but keeping it simple is giving me a clear overview of my progress and keeping me stay accountable.

Post 06 of #Blaugust #Productivity #notes #journal

Arendalsuka er over, og overskriften er at norsk politikk har blitt til en konkurranse i svartmaling. Både på venstre- og høyresida gjelder det å framstille Norge som både skakkjørt og kriseramma. Dette tror jeg særlig venstresida taper på på sikt.

Denne utviklingen er delvis et utslag av at vi har en mindretallsregjering med svært svakt grunnlag i Stortinget. Dette gjør at bare ett parti – Arbeiderpartiet – har noen interesse av å forsvare status qou. Resten av Stortinget er i opposisjon, og opposisjonens rolle er å peke på alt som ikke fungerer.

Dermed får vi debatter som er så navlebeskuende at jeg blir sjeleglad for at det er få utlendinger som følger norsk politikk. Men kriger og naturkatastrofer herjer, mens verdens fattige har blitt rammet av en grufull kombinasjon av kutt i bistand og nødhjelp og økte priser, og mens store deler av Europa bokstavelig talt har stått i flammer, er det vanskelig å fatte at akkurat nordmenn skal være så svartsynte. For de fleste andre fremstår det jo som om vi lever i paradis. Landet der kommunistene klager på prisen på indrefilet!

(her blir det vel nødvendig å legge inn et forbehold: neida, det er ikke et paradis for alle, men jeg snakker om nordmenn flest).

Mitt parti er også i opposisjon, og MDG kan også tjene mest på å peke på alt som er galt og ikke fungerer i landet vårt. Det er nok mest strategisk å slutte seg til hylekoret på kort sikt. Men på lengre sikt tror jeg dessverre dette er dømt til å undergrave mange av våre hjertesaker.

Hvis folk engster seg for at økonomien går ad undas, vil de neppe klare å mønstre det nødvendige engasjementet for å kutte klimautslipp, bevare natur, bidra til global bekjempelse av fattigdom, nød og sykdom, eller ta imot mennesker på flukt. Den akutte kriseforståelsen er best egnet til å fremme reaksjonær politikk. Politikk som i sin tur bare vil forverre problemene.

Regjeringen står forresten ikke uten ansvar her. I sin egen retorikk har de redusert det sosialdemokratiske prosjektet til “du skal få mer i lommeboka”. Partiet som i sin tid ble ledet av mennesker som drømte om det klasseløse samfunn, er nå mest opptatt av at folk kan få råd til en ny robotstøvsuger.

Hvis nordmenn flest føler at vi sitter i en liten livbåt som lekker vann i et stormfullt hav, så fanges vi av livbåtenes logikk. Vi vender ryggen mot verden og skalker lukene. Vi kunne heller tenkt på oss selv som en veldrevet liten skute som trosser bølgene på vei til et bedre sted. Kanskje en redningsskøyte? Jeg tror i alle fall ikke et progressivt og solidarisk politisk prosjekt kan bygges på å fremstille et av verdens rikeste og mest vellykkede land som en dysfunksjonell jammerdal.

I had sex for the first time in a while! I was completely fine and I think there’s a good chance that I’ve gotten over this anxiety. I had a great time, but at the same time I feel like there were several red flags that I am somewhat choosing to overlook, which I’m not super happy with. I remember they had mentioned that they have a self-reported disorganized attachment style, which seems like a nightmare, honestly. They also mentioned that they have some undiagnosed traits of BPD and they do often kind of share some bit of information that is like not really fun to hear, like they mentioned something reminded them of the feeling of Coke on gums? And then they said no it was not them that did it but an ex partner would and I mean, that’s better, but to be so cavalier about that? And I think there are a good amount of things that remind me of my ex, for better or for worse. Like I worry a little about the emotional regulation part is incredibly important. I also think that there are kind of attached to me very quickly and that is not a great sign either.

#blog

I'm tired of talking to people that are not lifestyle gooners.

Before you start thinking something shallow, I get it. For everyone else, they put porn in this little box and only visit it when they are horny.

It's the fact that they think they don't think it matters then the horny is over. They go off to whatever performative nonsense they do...guided by shame that validates their existence through the approval of others.

It's the fact that they think they can just come around again when they are horny, thinking I'm part of the selfish little cycle. Like I'm some kind of theme park. Honestly, that's why I keep to myself anyway. My life has been a pattern of this very cyclical behavior.

Even when I was married, I was just muscle, a pawn, status. My needs were not met by a person I thought would be my forever.

I have been failed by 'community' on a fundamental level and you don't really come back from that like you used to be.

Maybe I really am on the autistic spectrum. Maybe its because I don't hear things or read things the same. Maybe I don't pick up well on social cues. I'm not saying I'm right at all, what I'm saying is that me + normies = bad.

No matter how much you think you 'healed' or 'got better' it's always back there as you try to bury it in false positivity.

I'm useful. Not wanted. I don't accept that pattern anymore.

I see the pattern. I play along. But I know who is legit when I talk to them. But don't take kindness as weakness.

I move with a genuine sense of pure intentions and honestly, half of y'all can't be honest with your own thoughts let alone another person.

My reward system was never wired to exist in this 'amazing place' you talk about outside of porn. Friends. Family. Social Life? What the fuck is that shit? I'm just looked at awkwardly and I go sit in a corner, just in the room but never part of the story. I got tired of 'feeling bad' and just left the room.

Physically and symbolically. My whole life, if I didn't have the financial resources, or did it myself, it never got done. My community involvement is a net negative. It's the results I get from the things I try to do.

Even now, I build things for the gooning spaces, try new things, and it's either stepped on like it doesn't matter, abused, or ignored.

In fact without porn, its pretty fucking abysmal and I would have ended things a long time ago without it. Imagine a life where you are basically human equivalent of a tool and they only look for you when something needs fixing like that is supposed to be the social reward I get from 'community' – So of fucking course I will build my own world and my own reality full of porn. Hell even just typing this basically is a goddamn trigger thinking about the normal society that just takes from me.

I still try things. I do them for me hoping 5 people will follow me along and some have I love you all for that. I won't forget you.

Porn provides me this outlet and gateway to build positive experiences without any negative triggers or memories of my past traumas.

I dream of you— crystal waves crashing along a cerulean shore of crumbling haste. Flickers fantasized inferno. A graduation of accelerating power. We dance the circumference of a scoured whole, never quite stabilizing on this topsy-turvy clever where worlds sweep the void of dimension-hopping suggestion aside, and acclimation becomes our tomb.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

I ran across someone who, like me, used to be a Game Master/Immortal back in the day of MUDs. We had a bit of a nostalgia trip. Then we had a good laugh discussing what we'd do in a modern game.

Back then, I designed entire realms, quests, and of course, equipment. I'd not expect a game like World of Warcraft to allow the power we had then. If it took a bunch of old Game Masters and gave them a free subscription in exchange for so many hours of community morale boosting, gave us so many perks to hand out each day, and enabled whatever our character was with a few specialized and fun skills, I imagine it would be quite the boost to the game. A boost that really wouldn't cost them anything.

Combine our creative, on-the-fly thinking and planning with modern game dynamics and graphics...it makes me want to game. Sadly, modern digital games are missing that magic. When going up and engaging with a Game Master was a real roll of the dice. We had so much power at our fingertips.

Part of the fun of the game was experiencing how we'd choose to use it. I got euphoric just witnessing the players' giddiness. Another thing I enjoyed was seeing players who'd normally rarely roleplay suddenly sink fully in character. It was such a delight.

It's hard to believe it's been about thirty years ago. A few years less for some. That was quite a time for being on the internet. Everyone was doing things for the love of it, and the vast majority were very literate. There are times when I really miss those days a lot. I definitely miss being a Game Master/Immortal. We didn't just have power. We had a responsibility to the game and to the players. We created individualized magic, and also swift, individualized repercussions. The world lived because we were invested in ensuring the players had a most fantastic and memorable time that could be unexpectedly flipped on its head at any given moment. It's too bad so many generations of gamers will never get to experience that magic. We didn't have graphics. We had words and our imagination. They are very fond memories.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.