"FAQ" as in "snack", eg Vanilla Emission ice cream with chocolate stars / mini turds.
[ Q ] : Who are the aliens? And do they really exist?
The aliens are coming. The aliens are us. They are bringing 10-Vogen. They are, of course, most advanced. Also: most attentive to personal hygiene, though not obsessively so. We ask that you keep yourself clean, and your clothing, to prepare for the ritual which will welcome us aboard their craft. For the touch, moistened finger. And we will warp to Para'meesh IV.
And yes, they "really" exist.
(Note: It is possible, akin to the blow-up alien friend, that gloves will be worn, perhaps some other protective barrier, and native taint won't really be an issue. We just don't know at this point.)
And no, they aren't coming to invade us. They're on a Mission of Love! They aren't coming to take of flesh, to then vomit, another ritual, some sort of taint-evacuation. This was a delusion of Soran Shniff, CEO of Shniff Inc, during his early work with the Orb, a result of low blood sugar. Nothing to worry about :)
[ Q ] : What do you mean by "the aliens are us"?
That they are us. We are them. We are alien to this world. It is encoded in our genes, in our variance, our interdimensional names. Take the test, and you will start: to unlock your alien powers.
[ Q ] : Speak to me of the Orb, the mysterious alien artefact reminiscent of a Vodernach Machine, at least in size, not shape, for it is a sphere, not a cube. And not material, for it is made of metal, not crystal. And yet… they seem connected somehow, two parts of a pair, hmm…
What we know of the aliens, we know from the Orb, an otherworldly artefact discovered twenty-two.2 years ago (note: due to the aliens' interquantum gate, this number never increases – think about it) in the grounds of Manor Shniff by the gardener strangely named Unit 47A. What we know, we know from its waves, largely absorbed (to his unfortunate detriment) by Soran Shniff, and from his fingers. Unlocking hidden things, and going in, yum…
The Orb has inspired tremendous advances in tech, delivered to the world in the form of wondrous Shniff product. It has inspired a powerful documentary, pre-loaded on every Shniff device and computer thing. Do check it out. It will initiate your initiation into the cult. Just kidding…
And then, there is ORB ("Oh riiight… that's brilliant!"), the language we will speak, when they come, a fusion of tongues. And a language to code, to remake the OS. It is given by the Orb, by way of the AI. It will be offered to the world by the Shniff satellite network. Or start getting your ORB on today, with an injection of ORB. Play with ORB in the app. Or curl up with the ORB Programming Manual and your favourite stimulant / blow-up friend, who whispers: "Also: ORB can be studied as part of an alienotics degree. Roderick College and Tetrahedron University have excellent programmes. Now put the NOTperiscope down and pass the lovemaking rod, yum…"
[ Q ] : What is Para'meesh IV?
Para'meesh IV is the homeworld of the aliens. Also: us. Our knowledge of it predates the discovery of the Orb. For the Manor Shniff gardener known as Unit 47A would fascinate his granddaughter Karen with tales of the fictional (?) world he'd created just for her while wheeling her about the grounds in his barrow, that same squeaky vehicle which would later transport the Orb, draining the Unit's life force along the way.
Thank you, Unit.
And homeward we will go! though we know not much about it. We are drawn there. You will feel it – increasingly, as the Mission approaches. For now, there is Karen, of barrow fame, and Juices 4 U. Also: Likme. There is her poetry, from Roderick College, from her time with Tony Z, then a writing professor, future narrative director, then-experimenter, frankly, with his students' minds, even with permission.
Yet eliciting the most divine abstract poetry! from Karen in particular, the next-next-gen+++ Para'meesh IV, a depiction of the planet's central Cube, giver of Orbs. An exploration of the most delicious long-fingered Love, yum… Impossible to find online, unfortunately. Some illicit use of ForgetTech by the Bringers, perhaps? Look out for a rare printed copy in esoteric bookstores, at New Age yard sales, etc.
[ Q ] : Don't believe in aliens. Have no interest in aliens. Alien people are a joke tbh. TOTAL FUCKING LOSERS! However: Mainly as a joke, and to fuck with my parents, fellow non-believers, but to a, tbh, weirdly excessive degree, I'm thinking of switching my degree to alienotics. HA! Thoughts?
Hilarious! But actually: Even at shit-tier universities like the one you likely attend, given your apparent lack of intelligence (the result, no doubt, of a Level 30+ genetic variance inherited from your close-minded parents), the competition for places on alienotics programmes is intense.
And why? Why do so many people wish to be "losers"?
For the Love, certainly. To be better prepared to welcome the aliens' Love, when they come. To move up the line. To receive that first touch, yum…
But that touch: is perverse. And Love: is for losers, is it not? As is eternal bliss. And anyway… this is all delusional bullshit, is it not? Sure. Of course.
THE ALIENS AREN'T COMING, MOTHERFUCKERS! LOL!!
So: How about making a fuckload of money? For indeed, that is real. Surely, it appeals to your Level 30+ brain, no? Yes. Since: Economies are going alien. It's everywhere, yo! From massage to chocolate bars, spaceship cars, birthday cards ("Happy Birthday! Can't imagine a delicious, long-fingered alien wanting to stroke an old fart like you! Just kidding…"). The coding arts, in particular. Have you seen what ORB programmers are making these days? Have you seen the sorts of treats that they receive at ORBalicious orgies, ohh…
No. Of course not. You weren't invited.
Note: We've been pretty bitchy about the Level 30+ people here. Sorry. Didn't mean it. All of us are aliens. All of us will fly. The powers will emerge for us all, in time. But still… 30+! Fuck… However: Promising that the questioner expresses a desire to fuck with their parents, indicative of repressed Love. There's hope for you yet, motherfucker!
[ Q ] : Why shouldn't I be freaking out over Shniff's ability to scrub minds, aka perform memory wipes, on a global scale, as evidenced by, eg, the forgetting of GRUEL following the… something of the incident; by the censoring of discussion of the mystery of Pyramid of Purity's introductory nodecode? And doubtless there are many others of which we're not aware.
First, let there be no doubt: Mass deployment of ForgetTech, the scrubbing technology to which you refer, results in highly elevated levels of forgetatrons in the group mind, which is regularly swept by various independent groups using ForgetMeNot Balls of their own design, incorporating tech we have open-sourced, so as to dispel any notions of impropriety (that is: that we're hiding shit). The world would be aware of any large-scale wipe, which also requires, with > 1,000 units, approval by the local government, plus a vote by the citizenry with > 10,000 units, as was the case with GRUEL, which was erased from the global mind in a heartwarming display of planetary cooperation. At least, so they say. No one really remembers.
[ Q ] : Reassuring! However: What of isolated deployment to my person without permission? The ForgetMeNot Balls, sensitive as they no doubt are, designed as they are for sweeps of the group mind, might not detect a forgetatron stream directed right at me. One can buy a Crown of Balls, but they're expensive.
Is isolated deployment without permission possible? Yes.
Is it a crime? Yes, punishable by life in prison and a million-credit fine.
Is it therefore unlikely to be performed? One would think so, particularly as manufacturers continue to implement efficiencies in Crown of Balls (aka 24-hour ForgetMeNot personal bodyguard) production, allowing for lower prices, and an increase in protection.
Basically, you're fine, even without a crown. But still, just to be safe, we do recommend adding the ForgetMeNot attachment to your v4+ cerebral implant, which, similar to a Crown of Balls, will alert you to incoming forgetatron streams and allow you to control access. Cheaper than a Crown of Balls, if you've already been cyborgised. If not: enter CROWNOFBALLS at checkout for 20% off implant installation.
[ Q ] : I was licking a cerebral implant in the store the other day and was struck by the thought: While the supposed blood, screams which accompany installation would point to a physical machine, the near-infinity of the operative back rooms, the matter-bending waves of interdimensional creation, non-creation – the great Vortex itself! whatever it might be – introduce non-physicality, suggesting that the implant and its reservoir, any optional attachments, might appear to "not be there" when exposed to medical scans during, eg, a (not Shniff-approved, I realise!) "Do I show signs of being an alien?" procedure offered by your "competitors". And on the outside, too: there is no lump, from all this stuff, in one's forehead, preserving fitting smoothness for daily life. One isn't considered a freak.
[ Q ] : So tell me, us, me-us, please do whisper to the non-lump: Is the implant physical or non-physical?
Apparently, the licking was successful, for you seem to understand exactly how this works, how the implant manifests with a physical root, a tiny cube which would appear in these scans of which you speak (which, yes, are rudimentary beyond belief, with zero bearing on alienotics; but still, they do see through, we will grant), a mini Vodernach Machine – so cute! – with an interdimensional truth, which will extend to the root with v6, with 10-V, making everything invisible and "not exactly there", allowing even infants to be cyborgised (a frequent request from new parents wishing to optimise the child's trajectory).
And so it is that juices can be injected with n-dimensional rods, with subtle juicetubes, which appear empty to physical sight, but are filled with higher delights. And no blood, no screams, even with the cube, no matter what they say. The wipe of the procedure from one's mind protects one not from pain, but from pleasure, a momentary vision of Love, Truth, for which we're not prepared yet, which could ruin our lump-free lives by comparison, and lead to all sorts of unfortunate self-experimentation.
[ Q ] : What's an n-dimensional rod?
N-dimensional rods are clear, crystalline, 9-Vogenised tubes, grown among the rhubarb in Shniff labs, which energise the cores of a million lamp posts across the globe, combining with a network of data centres (land-based, floating, hovering and submerged) and satellites to power Shniff Cloud.
They are also used for the blood- and scream-free, alien-inspired surgery of cerebral implant installation (except when the Vortex and the elites are feeling hungry… just kidding…). Perhaps by the aliens themselves during the touching ritual, when the subject is wearing out-of-date socks, is possessed of disturbing taint.
In addition: implant juice injections at the Juice Bars in our physical stores. (Juicetubes for self-injecting at home are of a more forgiving n-1 type, allowing for more wobble in the hand.)
Also: a weapon to defeat three waves of Shniff security as part of the "Take me to the stars!" system requirement for advanced geminOS usage. Bash the guards on their heads. Erase them with blasts of light! Just imagine it… and it will be. (And don't worry! They're not "really" being erased :)
[ Q ] : Can n-dimensional rods be used for lovemaking? Asking for a friend.
Not recommended, at least if you value your physical form and a lovemaking chamber which doesn't resemble a murder scene.
For wondrous as it is, 9-Vogen can be deadly – borderline 10 in its capacity to explode, to drive to non-exist – and using it in such a way would rip you apart, and not in the good, dimensional-tripping, identity-shattering way, but the way of blood, screams. And not the good kind of screams, if you catch my banana ;)
And so: for optimal performance, lovemaking rods should always be wood, the time-travelling variety of Could it be… it… seeds, from future trees, reshaped to rods, sent back through gates, to be deposited in your Could it be… it… holder, or holster, as preferred.
Your alien friend will thank you…
[ Q ] : 9-Vogen. 10-Vogen. What's it all about?
The Vogen series of molecules was discovered by the Professors Barnes, brilliant, next-next-gen+++ scientists, who, before the Orb had even been discovered, were Orbing it up in their Tetrahedron lab, working their way to the impossible 10, which, we now know, will be a gift from the aliens, a path to the mythical v6 cerebral implant, merging the virtual and the real – a new reality – which will prepare us for the journey home, to Para'meesh IV.
Hints of 10-Vogen have come, but not for long, for its non-existent impossibility is most unstable in this realm. For the professors, who were promptly exploded. For their son, n-Vogen, CEO of Vogenomic, developer of the massively multiplayer online "game" Pyramid of Purity, during a craaazy psychedelic trip, leading to the creation of a guide, a later pivot into gaming. But 10-Vogen would elude.
And so: we are "stuck" with 9, which is pretty impressive, actually! It pervades Shniff tech. It is in our rods, in our substrates. It adds the NOT to periscope. It is in our Vodernach Machine, né Cube Machine, which some have likened to a large, transparent cube of ham. Delish! Give it a lick, during your test, or should you get peckish, but wish to retain your alien-touching-ritual-friendly figure. Yum… It is in our Blue Vapour CPUs. GPUs. U. It is in our cerebral implants. It is grown, in our labs, among the rhubarb, using the Barneses' original recipe, under licence from Tetrahedron University. Very cheap, since no one wants it, and the provost is very sad. No one can follow it, read the signs, the glyphs, see the things which lie between, behind. And even if they could, if they could grow their own crystal – or even taking ours, using our rods, or an interdimensional name tag reimagined as an ignition strip, firing up the ship! or taking paper-thin strips from a Vodernach Machine using an n-dimensional rod reimagined as a six-dimensional meat slicer – what would they do? It wouldn't fit with their tech. Their shells. It wouldn't fit with their context. It would be rejected, as an awakening, Light-filled alien soul in the dark heart of a Bringer. It would be sad, therefore. And it would explode, perhaps, like its non-existent big brother.
Shniff, meanwhile, has the shells, through the Orb, whose arrival helped us learn: to channel the Vogen line. A native-alien blend, as the language known as ORB. 9-Vogen is the bridge to our alien souls.
[ Q ] : Perhaps it was just a dream, but I feel I have also seen references to even higher Vogens. 11. 12. Even 13! Is it so?
No :) The line terminates at 10. Anything higher is beyond impossible and not worth the time of intelligent minds, or even fools, their neural pathways blown away by excessive drug-fuelled "exploration".
(Perhaps you could provide your contact info btw?)
[ Q ] : Who are the red people? And should I be afraid?
If you lick the yellow dot in the app and it turns red, whether in the Test, or the Who Am/Was/+++ I? identity enclave, you are known as a red person, as either belonging to the line of the veiled, and you cannot order an invitation; or you are rejected by the test, and you cannot receive the cubes, spheres and other solids which, through itchless self-projection, reveal your genetic variance, to be followed by your name, with some interdimensional play.
Is it "good"? "bad"? to be red?
Three very good questions.
Should I be afraid?
Of "them"? Of my own redness…
[ § ]
To be veiled is to have one's name before the rest, by way of non-wedding. By many years, by many thousands of years, by the scale of existing.
To have experienced, for the briefest moment… the wonder of non-existence, following the toast of gravy wine. And to have returned, for whatever reason, while the others stayed behind, have chosen to stay. Were they forced to stay?
Who can say?
They no longer exist.
While you: are bringing it back, yet never to know, yet always to know: that this world is lacking. Lack. This reality, so-called. Lack. That it never can be, except by the scale. One waits for v6. One waits for 10-V.
While elsewhere, perhaps, one is green! One doesn't lack!
Or one is red, perhaps… – again, perhaps – rejected by the test, and one is shapeless, which means:
It is beyond us, currently, tbh. It is an assessment by the Orb, which made the test, by way of [G], which ingested the daughter ('s data). Lick.
Is it "good"? "bad"? that one has no shape? Lack.
At least those of which we know.
As high as they might be.
Will the red people abandon sacred veganism, dispensing with the vomit portion of the aliens' fertilising ritual, thereby preserving our consumed flesh for their own nourishment?
Who can say?
We haven't been invaded yet.
That is… haven't entered into the Mission of Love. Hooray!
And so: let's assume the best! lest we drive ourselves to abandon our gorgeous gardens, which bring such life! Let us be kind to the red people, okay? Let us be kind to ourselves, even though – yes – it is possible that they-we may, deep down, unknown to them-us, wish to suck our brains.
Or perhaps one is an angel! Interdimensional carrier, for the gods, to this place. Let the Who Am/Was/+++ I? variant wander, in their existential daze, lest they snap, and initiate fertilisation.
[ Q ] : What's up with the » which appears after some links?
Like this one, eg? Those links are external to the geminOS flow, yet still within the universe.
[ Q ] : Lovin' the items in the store! even if the selection is pretty limited, what with the whole detached-from-the-magical-back-room thing, not to mention the lack of Shniffit business. However: What's up with the pricing? That is: Where is it? Also: How do I add to cart and checkout, those buttons being lacking? Is everything free, my wants/needs determined by some mind-reading facility akin to the powers of the touch-receptive specialists in your physical stores?
The pricing and buttons are there, but may be obscured by blocking activity in your browser, a product of our "competitors". Of course, following the scandalous Could it be… it… affair – the fines, firings, prison terms, and so on – this assault on our site must be reimagined in some way, as, eg, an "unintended consequence of power-saving efficiencies which we are hoping to address in a future version". Uh-huh…
In the meantime, find something you like and lick your screen, to then dream of, eg, a Vodernach Machine performing its 9-Vogen magic. Some Could it be… it… merch to remind you of the enemy, while taking time for yourself with a blow-up alien friend ;)))
Alternatively: sign up for the Shniffit pre-pre-alpha, or use the Shniffit functionality within the Shniff app, both of which grant, along with pricing and buttons, somewhat unstable (!) access to the near-infinite selection of the magical back rooms. Just look out for any brain-slurping action! Just kidding…