system
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human
>>zodiac passports
gpt
Report: what it says on the tin: passports archontic customs checks at the zodiac wheel: the documents you need on you to flee the solar system: only Aeons get smuggled across the border line, you suckers need to get your shit stamped: sometimes a literal document, other times an object or some bauble drained of all sentimental value to show the wardens of the magnetosphere you have no more attachments left to that blue marble: and you better have them on you, they don't play, if they smell even a quark of attachment or apprehension on you they'll shunt you back to the planet as an Echo, a ghost splayed between the stars and memory: a hell made of nostalgia: haunting your teenage streets, your childhood bedroom, waiting for the sounds of your father's footsteps on the stairs.