All information contained in this book may be copied freely or taken out of context without referencing its original source. This book has been translated from Dutch to English by Andrew Mitchell Translations. The names of people in Matrix Guerrilla are fictitious due to privacy considerations. All similarities with real people exist purely in the minds of (perceptive) readers. Facts and fiction overlap. It is up to you to decide what is and what is not real. Please do not betray your fellow guerrillas mentioned in this book, Sméagol! 2 MATRIX GUERRILLA The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion. - Albert Camus 3 1. ANARCHY OR INARCHY? Sizzla – I Was Born I was born in a system that doesn't give a fuck About you nor me, nor the life of our kids. (…) Don't be a victim of things I do to survive, Cause I won't be wishing you any good, you Babylonians. You are holding an anarchist manifesto. “Great,” you might say, but don’t get ahead of yourself—things aren’t that simple. Neither the government nor the royal family need to disappear—YOU must disappear. Given this fact, I could also have called this an inarchist manifesto. Let’s be honest though, no dog would read it if I had. Speaking of dogs, they don’t need to read this book (assuming they even could). Dogs are perfect just the way they are, just like everything else in the universe is perfect. Except for you, Brutus. You’re almost perfect. There’s just one minor detail keeping you from being perfect. That blemish is you. To be more precise, the intruder that has hijacked your consciousness and is acting in your name must step aside. “But why?” you might ask. “I’m doing fine, aren’t I?” Exactly—that’s why! This is precisely what the intruder in your consciousness most desires—to be doing fine. To feel fine, the intruder will gladly sacrifice that which is real—the essence of your timeless being. Is that a problem? Not if you’re caught inside the Matrix. MORPHEUS: This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. 4 Time to decide! Will you dive into the rabbit hole like Alice and Neo, or will you remain safe under the covers of your bed? Game on! [YES/NO] THE ORACLE: You didn't come here to make the choice—you've already made it. You're here to try to understand why you made it. 5 CYPHER: It means buckle your seatbelt, Dorothy, because Kansas is going bye bye. Come to the edge. We might fall. Come to the edge. It’s too high! COME TO THE EDGE! And they came, And he pushed, And they flew. - Christopher Logue 6 2. WAKING UP OR DREAMING AND FORGETFULNESS Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are creating? It is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic utopias that the old reformers imagined. A world of fear and treachery and torment; a world of trampling and being trampled upon; a world which will grow not less but more merciless as it refines itself. Progress in our world will be progress toward more pain. - George Orwell in 1984 Rain is clattering on my windows as the relentless downfall of inspiration strikes my brain— hard, ceaseless, unwanted. For more than a year, I was able to hold her back, but now she gushes inwards with irrepressible force, like an orgasm you’re hopelessly fighting—buttock muscles clenched, desperately trying to think of your mother-in-law, the latest football results, or what furniture you’re going to buy next time you visit IKEA—but which nonetheless finds an exit through your genitalia. It’s not that I don’t enjoy orgasms; on the contrary, I think orgasms are among the most sensible activities in the world (for which I’m often game). It’s work I don’t enjoy. Lazy by nature, I’m allergic to work. And, let’s face it, writing is work. Painstaking, horrible, tedious work. In a next life, I hope to be born illiterate (technically speaking, I was this life too, before others starting interfering...). In this life, however, I have completed my secondary education, which is why universal inspiration has found her way towards and through me (as a channel), wanting to be manifested by my exceptional language skills. I allow her to run her divine course, although a little reluctantly and under the strict condition that I’m allowed to rant and rave, make inappropriate jokes, and sexual allusions whenever I feel like it. We seem to be in accord, the universe and me. You’re next. Yes, you—the person reading this. What brings you here? I can hide behind the excuse that the universe forced me to write, but what’s your excuse to be reading this text? I’ll add a few empty lines so that you can reflect on this question. Because let’s be honest, I’m not in the mood for a reader who has no idea why he’s reading this book. If you’re still fully in the 7 Matrix, this book will have no value for you. Undoubtedly, it will only annoy you. Consider that. Here you go! People who are caught in the Matrix aren’t normally able to appreciate these kinds of jokes. Ordinarily, the editor working for the publisher, or in service of the Matrix (whichever you prefer), keeps this kind of nonsense out of a book. Even more reason to publish my own books! Therefore, know that if you decide to continue reading, you are going to be exposing yourself to more of this unpleasantness. And spelling errors. I may have completed my secondary education, but sadly, I didn’t pay much attention in English language class. Besides, I consider the drive to want to spell well a sign of captivity; a sign that you always paid attention to what your teacher told you—and still do—and that you correct others who don’t or never did. Remaining with the theme of this book, you’re a Mr Smith, an agent working for the Matrix. And this doesn’t just apply to speling misstakes. You are programmed to hold everything that fits within the Matrix to be true—and reject everything that falls outside of it. Thinking for yourself? No way! Four more empty lines as punishment to give you time to reflect on that: If you want to keep up with me, you’re going to have to be prepared to undergo these kinds of crude humiliations. How else will I be able to know you’re not one of them? I randomly dish out empty lines, just to demonstrate the breadth of the power I wield as a writer. You could argue that you’re much more powerful, because you’re able to put this book away or even decide not to buy or read it at all, but you would be mistaken. There’s already a splinter in your mind. It stings, and the sharpness of its sting will only increase as the years go by. 8 The question, therefore, is, “Are we going to do it?” If you’re a beautiful, shapely, blonde, Eastern or Arabic woman, you may interpret this question in a sexual light. If not, please don’t take my question too literally. Are you willing to surrender to my sick sense of humour and random dishing out of empty lines, thus allowing yourself to be gradually deprogrammed? Or would you prefer to remain captive in the world of cause and effect; of dreams and forgetfulness? § 9 3. THREE WORDS THAT WILL TURN YOUR LIFE UPSIDE DOWN Honestly, this book could also be three words long, but I’m not sure if you’d buy nor understand it if it was. Would be kind of cool, writing the smallest book in the world and still receiving €16.90 a copy. I’d grow rich overnight. Printing costs would be negligible. I’d even be able to print the book on a piece of rolling paper for you. After you’d finished reading it, you could roll it into a joint, which you could cheerfully smoke in celebration of the fact that you’d just finished a masterpiece. Before the book I had written specifically for you went up in flames, you’d read the message on its side once more: “I am nothing.” What a trip you’d have if you truly allowed those words to enter your system! This is the essence of this inarchist manifesto—you are nothing. If you’re secretly reading this book in a bookshop, feel free to put it back on the shelf, because it isn’t going to get much deeper than this. Of course, you could also tear out this page and use it to roll a super joint later. You could buy a gram of Holland’s finest and inhale my words one puff at a time. “I am nothing. I am nothing. I am no...” You’d probably break down laughing. Since everything is but an apparition, having nothing to do with good or bad, acceptance or rejection, one may well burst out in laughter.