Story Theory: Language Requires a Deus Ex Machina 

Language Requires a Deus Ex Machina 

Every language has a god. Every linguistic code quickly adopts its genius  to express its projection of ultimate power. We can test this. The Hebrews  found a god that would ensure that they were forever the chosen people.  Hesiod and Homer made a genealogy of the gods for the Greeks (and  Romans). Every human tongue starts with utility—but always ends with  theology. We have our answer about the gods, therefore. Coiled within  every linguistic machine exists a god. Every invention, wheel, zodiac, and  ideology—every linguistic language—contains a god. 

We can test this thesis with modern science. In the mid-19^th century  science was still struggling against the leviathan of Christianity. At that  time (1840s), Christianity still was the chief authority of the purpose  and origin of human life. Earnest missionaries still went out from the  West and spoke of the saving grace of Christ and his angels. In the 1840s,  science still had no way to make their vision of the world supreme. 

Science had no way to compete with the Christian language of the  human condition, that is, until they found Darwin. Darwin codified a  new form of reality—evolutionary theory. It was a poetic imagining—based  on very few specimens. From a few exotic observations he made wildly  general and speculative assertions. He had no proof, he could not point  to any significant missing links—but evolution theory seemed plausible to  the rising men of science. Most importantly Darwin could be referenced  as a weapon of authority to combat the Bible’s interpretation of creation.  Instead of 4800 odd years as the Bible postulated, Darwin asserted that  life evolved over millions of years—especially man. Darwin won—because  he coined a famous poetic phrase that no one could forget—“survival of the fittest”. The Church lost its 2000 year reign of linguistic supremacy— over a poetic phrase! The language of science had found its deus ex machina (the god from out of the machine). 

Darwin was wrong. Not only are there no evidences of all the missing  links of the evolution of Homo sapiens from apes—there is no explanation  how the human mind (the self-consciousness mind) originated from  matter. The word “missing link” has even entered the language—so famous  is the fossil lacuna in the record. 

Second, Darwin does not explain the continued existence of apes. If  Homo sapiens evolved naturally from apes—why are there still apes today in  exactly the same state of existence (and ape fossils show there was no change  at all)? Thirdly, the theory of evolution does not explain the non-evolution of  creatures many times more ancient than Homo sapiens—creatures, moreover,  which were separated by differing climates and environments. 

Scorpions, dragonflies, and ants fossilized in amber up to 500 million  years ago are exact replicas of modern insects—as if they were born in the  same year—and the same climate! They were fossils of insects of ancient  climates and continents differing from today’s environment. If simple  creatures as scorpions, flies, and insects have not changed over 500 million  years, how are we to believe that the most complicated animal—man— mutated from apes in only a fraction of that time? That’s a lot of mutation! 

Darwin’s The Origin of Species is the greatest scientific hoax in the  history of intellectual propaganda. Clearly something other than time and  evolution are the actual agencies of the human mind. The only possible  creator of the human mind—is another mind. 

In fact, there was no radical evolution of these species to the degree  hypothesized by Darwin. Few scientists even bother to talk seriously about  Darwin at all today—there are too many embarrassing lacuna in the fossil  records. It does not matter. Darwin had already served his purpose. He found the literature they needed. Any social movement needs a powerful  phrase—and “survival for the fittest” was the perfect incantation that  science needed to replace the previous poetry of the Christian civilization. 

The theory of evolution was a linguistic assertion allowing science to  have a rationale to eradicate and disprove the reality of life as proposed  by the Christian Bible. What is more poetic than the memorable phrase  “survival of the fittest”? A single poetic language (four words) brought down an entire Christian civilization! It has remained on every child’s tongue since the 19^th century. And it wasn’t even ever proved to be true!

The point? Each linguistic code has a god embedded (a deus  ex machina) that gives the language its justification to be the supreme  civilization of the human condition. The Greeks had Homer and Hesiod.  The Hebrews had Moses. The Christians had Paul. And the scientists had  Darwin—to give a poetic plausibility to a new speech of human reality. Each made an epic text—a plausible context for new human life sources. 

Then after, came Bohr, Einstein, and Heisenberg. Each was using only poetic symbols to make their case for alteration of the universe. Each was a strong poet of prophetic speech. 

We do not fail to know god. We fail to observe the source of gods.  Each language contains a god—and each contains its own interrogation  of divinity. It is the genius (the daemon) embedded in the linguistic code  that we fail to detect. This detection is a competence of the strong poet. This is why we miss the strong poet in Western societies. 

What is intelligence? We know exactly the answer. Intelligence—in every case—is a protocol of a human mind dreaming of itself—with a  structure of intention and bias. Information is never new—information exists from all time. Therefore information is essentially prophetic—it is a detection of information without material evidences. The best we can do with information is to decode it—not “make” information—since  all information already existed from the beginning of existence. This is  the case for prophecy. We can test this. Every advance, every technical invention in human societies has been made from an inspiration of the  moment—from Archimedes to Einstein. 

Consciousness is thus forming sentience with self-structured verification. A test of yes and no, a war of good and evil, must be  continually in operation. It does not matter in the least which method of  a war of good and evil you choose. It can be in a cubicle, on a farm, in the  market place, or in a congress house. Consciousness is not linear—does  not progress from a birth to an ending. Consciousness folds back on itself  as it manifests organized procession—with a bias. This is information.  Therefore, relief from any crisis of ideation can always be met by a further  resource to sentience. This is Story Theory. 

This protocol, however, is what is so alien to modern linguistics.  Modernism does not insist that individuals undertake intimate mental  work in a crisis. Rather, modernism looks to specialists, machines,  technology, doctors, police—anything except the hard work of training  the mind to resolve a crisis. This is what makes modernism an evil.

The first step is to accept the possibility that we are forms walking  in the mind of god. (The reader may use the term giant leviathan  consciousness machine if that is less alarming.) This formula, alone, places  every crisis in its proper perspective. From this angle, every human  interrogative can be properly exposed for its validity and correctness.  Why is there evil and injustice in the world? A poor interrogative—of an  adolescent perspective. There is only an apparent evil and injustice—and  there is a solution already embedded in the problem. If we are walking in  the mind of god, in the end, we are secure and perfect. If we are (literally)  dreams walking in the mind of god, then our experience of good—and  solution for evil—is always within reach. Every act (of life) is promiscuous  to a further modification—not because something new is made—but  because the source of mind contains infinite possibility and unbounded  solution. 

The second step is to take the element of desperation or fear out of  the equation. Then the solution (that was always present) will be activated.  Why all the bother? Because consciousness has a need for the sobriety of  the dreamer (i.e. the believer in his reality) who forms sentience with  self-structured verification. Therefore, consciousness is a garden of good  and evil. With this exception—evil transforms into nothingness. After a  righteous war of good and evil—the evil is always exposed as nothingness— exposed as only blind terror. After each fright—evil appears in the memory  only as a dream. This is the clue we are looking for. Evil is a delusion—fully within our competence to master. Too often, we merely choose not to  master it. It takes labor and mental vigilance to master evil. Moderns simply  chose not to bother. There are always the police or the doctor on call. 

The materialist will protest. Our bodies are too solid. Our evils are  too real. We can’t find this mental mechanism to resolve our good and evil  conflicts—our wars, our disease. It requires too much mental effort—too  much courage. No, it only requires that you give up modernist resort to  specialists in your moment of crisis. Still too hard? Then you will come  and go again until this is clear. Life is the long count. 

It may help to consider what science is saying about the solidity of  matter. It is empty. The Atom is empty. Space is empty. All visible billions  of galaxies come from a microscopic dot (Big Bang). What does that say  about matter? It’s empty. Try to explain any of these phenomena as “real.”  They are not. They are images, as we are images, of objects of powerful  agency, beings of charged sobriety—walking in the mind of god. And if  true, we cannot do anything wrong—since, in effect, it’s all a dream of yes and no. How many accidents of life and limb may actually occur—if  everything is arraigned as images in the mind of a superior observer? So what does this say about the god of human salvation? It is  contained within the powers we already possess of consciousness. It  is merely unused.

We can verify with symbols and stories that there is a  healthy congress of mutual support and feedback from the deity. We have  the epic trope to verify our statements. We only fail to make the correct  interrogatives of human life. If we imagine we are walking in the mind of  god, we may make the correct interrogatives of the nature of life. The reason there are no modern gods of salvation is due to poor  phraseology. God’s mind is populated with spirits, forms, ideas, and men.  We are walking in a leviathan mental structure. It is full to the brim of  the cup. It is only our language that is weak—not the supposed missing  agency of any god that we have, somehow, somewhere, misplaced.

Why?  Again, because it is our language that contains its own interrogation of  deity. Every god asserted (or named) was established in a poem, or text— and thus god is found only co-existing with a linguistic nomination.  No exception. Thus god’s origin is a symbol of man’s speech. That is,  every speech contains a deus ex machina. That is, we are always caught  manufacturing the evidence we are seeking to validate our speech. This is a clue of the origin of gods. Gods exist only to validate the  evidence of our speech. Unseen and unknowable math verifies the speech  of science.

The unseen and unknowable Jehovah verifies the privileged  status of the Hebrews as the chosen people. Gods are embedded in texts.  Gods may only be copies of the leviathan mind—of which we are the free  agents. And there are no accidents in the mind of god. There are only  Monads—occasions of experience of yes and no. 

If there were no language, there would be no gods. This is the  information we have been looking for. We can stop ringing our hands. We  can begin to move with power. We don’t need a better religion; we need a  strong theory of poetry. Our thesis comes clearer into focus. 

Animals and plants do not have gods. Why? Because they have no  speech. Because they do not have texts that can be handed down. Any  place speech appears—gods appear. Only the human has invented the  epic trope—of gods and men. The argument is not as spurious as it may,  at first, sound. Because, our minds are mapped with linguistic code (of gods, spirits, phantoms, ideas), we cannot easily detect the source of gods.  It is for this cause I have created the philosophy of Story Theory—to  detect the source of human ideation.

No god ever existed before language (symbols). Try to name one— and I will show you the poem or text the god originated in. So by strict  logic, god is a symbol—a poem. No god has ever co-existed without its  corresponding poem (bible, myth, narrative, ritual, rune set). Every text  ever found, therefore, contains a god. Every text, every human linguistic  phrasing, seeks monad—all of life contained in a single presentation. A  poem is an overt attempt at monad—that is, all of life contained in  a charge of a single phrase. Only a strong poet can perform this feat.  Nothing is more powerful than a perfected phrase. It acts like a god—a  deus ex machina. A poet’s only morality is the competence of his text. 

The “actual” gods think the world of consciousness (with our agency).  If we could actually meet a god, it would not be in a form we could  anticipate—linguistically—and it would be too eccentric for our linguistic  phrasing. So we can only tell stories of god—and that is literature. Every  bias of literature requires a divine source of authority. 

Every human text seeks to construct a god (an enchantment) in the  mind of the reader. It does not matter if the new god is a master race, a  divine presence, a supernatural intervention, a spell binding narrative, or a  heroic sacrifice. These are all acts of agon within our genome. The human  character is well delineated—for all time—on the genome. Epic texts  are remembered from older congress of intelligence—of acts of wonder  already emplaced on the genome—thus, not newly created. 

Epic speech and texts seem to exist from all time. The character and  phraseology of the epic protagonists are just so—perfect in their way— operating as an incantation. Epic moral value (oddly) always appears from  nowhere and assumes a divine status—as if it was always there. Hector and  Moses, Gilgamesh and Christ, thus, were always in existence—and they  were always and forever just so. In fact, all information of life was always  in existence—and just so—no human information is ever lost. All possible  human values and emotions are already embedded on the human genome.  Therefore, it appears that a writer discovers what is already contained  (embedded) within consciousness. 

Then the question—Are there gods?—has an answer. So long as there  is sentience, there is a principle of sentience. Can anything be clearer? So  this is the origin of deity. The mystery of “gods” is solved. Where there is  sentience there is a principle of sentience—a deus ex machina. A principle  of power, sobriety, and undiminished force will pass for a god any day. This operating principle (god), though unable to be detected by us in  every facet, serves every criterion we seek of deity—including answering linguistic prayers when recited by humans in need. The human urge to life  and language are one and the same entity. There is no sign of life without  feedback. Feedback is a language. Therefore, the soul must be eloquent.  This is the case for poetry. This explains the genealogy of gods. 

Thus, what humans most need is a strong theory of poetry. We don’t need information of a new machine to solve mankind’s problems. A  machine is a honey trap. We need the information of a strong poet. Why? The first human response to any crisis or peril is a linguistic response.  No exception. And all of human “reality” (including the crisis and the  solution to the crisis) is already pre-positioned in the mind. This is the only possible salvation embedded in consciousness. You have sinned?—Go  forth and sin no more. Your life is not in the form you wish it to be?—You  change it—now. 

This is why the first step in consciousness, as a way of traveling  through the maze of life, is to imagine we are itinerant in the mind of god.  In this manner, we position our response to life in a secure relation. We  drain experience of all time and all fear—of all the background noise of  materiality. That is, ultimately, we are safe—secure in a place safe from all  influence—and all complexities have a final solution. In the end, in Story  Theory, everything is perfect, round, and just. All wars have a resolution  of clarity. 

If we need any other proof of the human protocol, it is simply a  matter to reference every human story ever told. The list of proofs is  infinite—who can count the existing human stories? Each human story  contains exactly those elements from which the human crisis can be  resolved. Yet somehow, no matter the infinity of story, each agon has only  one ending—it is perfect, round, and just. Story theory is elegant and  pure. 

The question of the protocol of gods will not be resolved until the  question of language is resolved. Thus, at once, the function of poetry  comes into focus. We can go further. The issue of the structure of the  universe will not be understood until consciousness is understood. If  consciousness, as previously disused, is a protocol of communication,  then, of course, we are back to the issue of poetics—since all forms of  consciousness can only replicate the genius exclusive to each idiom used. 

Information of actual reality is essentially charismatic—that is, it  cannot be anticipated or controlled. What does that say about the rational  solidity of matter? It is an illusion. This reveals that the information of  life, the solution of life, the god of salvation, exists from all time. The only question is: What is the means to access this permanent and detectable  charismatic information? The speech of the strong poet is access to  charismatic information—whether he is found in the texts of David,  Moses, Hector, Christ, Mohammed—or Einstein. 

Thus, all men seek poems, prophecy, and strong texts. They may call  their linguistic code for prophecy science—but in fact, all methods of  divination seek a permanent monument of their oracle—in the form of a  sturdy god of salvation. The god is a form of text—of speech. Yet it does  not mean that god does not have a form—it only means we have poor  linguistic control of consciousness—and, moreover, it does not matter if  we have the correct name of god. Consciousness will still operate whether  we know the charismatic nomination of consciousness—or not. Until  then, we will have to linguistically create a deus ex machina. Consciousness  will still be secure in its position. 

We can test our thesis so far. An atheist or an agnostic does not deny the existence of deity. They, as any human, still seek charismatic  statements—prophecies. They still seek the exact answers that only a  deity of salvation may properly guard. Atheists still seek righteous moral  perspectives and test for the active principles of life—they only look in  newspapers and politics for this new charismatic speech—not in churches  with shop-worn phrases. Both the atheist and the agnostic respond as  believing, faithful acolytes of well packaged and well promoted products— and erotic celebrities. Agnostics still follow the gods of their heart—with a  brilliant charge of faith. They follow their favorite technologies and media  celebrities each day. What they protest so passionately—that is, when  they deny gods—is the poor, outdated linguistic construct of god. They  protest that the Biblical god does not fit into the narrative of modernism.  This only proves that their linguistics of life has altered—with new  linguistic set points. They protest the old Biblical construction of god,  they object to the un-modern god of Paul, they object to the crimes— made public each day in the media—of abuse by the priests. What the  modern, the atheist, and the agnostic protest are the pledges of faith to  linguistic gods of previous wounded moralities. 

Every agnostic, thus, honors new prophetic speech—any day,  any moment. The Christian gods of the Puritans, the Victorians, the  Mormons, and, now of the Roman Catholic Church are wounded  moralities, framed only within the modern rumor of the mediocrity,  dullness, and the sins of Church leaders. God does not belong to any  Church—he belongs to speech—he comes out of speech. He is securely positioned in the highest idioms of every human speech. Gods last as long  as an idiom of speech may last. 

Because, from experience, we know the truth: all modern men search  and wait for the next great prophet. If there was a spectacularly new  construct of god—and new narration of god—then the current atheist, in  fact, would stand in line to be the first priest of the new cult. So what  the agnostic and the atheist reject is—not god—but the poor linguistic  presentation of a deity of salvation—in contrast to the spectacular  presentation of modern secularism. We know it is not actually the crimes  of Churchmen they object to. It is the assertion of superiority the Church  makes about human life. To wound the priest is to eradicate the power of  the Church in Western societies. That is the plan. 

In this view, we understand why gangsters and murderers are the  principle protagonists and heroes in modern Western cinema. They  represent a linguistic search for new epic myths. In this insidious manner,  the modern rumor media has eradicated and wounded the Christian  narrative—and ignores or, in fact, privileges the crimes of secular  modernism. They are framed as spectacular and heroic crimes. The  modern secular citizen responds with agnosticism (indifference) to an  older religion, since the secular world is still (currently) pristine and well  presented—with new epic protagonists. 

In actuality, any human with desire and language has a god of  salvation in his heart—because the final dictum of any human wish is a  god of salvation—a deus ex machina. Modern advertising has merely  captured the modern acolyte. Modernism is still clean and pristine.  Then, sometime, tomorrow, today, there will be an event (possibly due to  surveillance) whereby faith is lost in modernism. In a moment, overnight,  modernism will become as stained as any previous wounded morality.  The crimes of modernism will be joined to the smell of modernism.  Kosmoautikon helps that process along. 

Thus modernist states are in crisis. When the last forms of Semitic,  Biblical religions are eradicated, liberalism will be supreme in human  ideation. That time has arrived in the West. It is at this time, when, no  longer facing ideational challenges from previous linguistic creeds, that  modernism will become truly insufferable. Modernism cannot detect  any other form of information than itself—that is, rationalist, secular,  physical, and material causation. Yet what if modernism is shown to be a  representation of life that does not actually exist? On that day modernism  will disappear. The universe of the Newton, Copernicus and Einstein will disappear. They will never be found again—as if they were never there at  all. This is the test of Kosmoautikon. 

This is exactly the crisis: if matter is not real—does not exist  independently of consciousness—then the test of material causation  does not pass the proof of evidence attributed to it by modernism. We  have merely learned to live with the illusion of modernism—just as the  medieval monk learned to live with the illusion of three gods in one.  We are well-terraformed in our illusion of materiality—until there is  a collapse. The machine does not make us any more protected from  charismatic arrival of actual reality. Modernism has never correctly  anticipated a single human calamity. Liberal societies have never  anticipated a single outbreak of war. They need prophets. 

The modern is as complacent with his linguistic code, modernism, as  the monks were complacent with the Age of Faith. Cicero was likewise  comfortable with the linguistic code of Roman paganism. Yet just because  the modern cannot conceive of any real life consisting of angels, saints or  pagan gods—it does not mean that angels, saints, or gods were any less  “alive” in the mind of previous civilized men. In this way, Story Theory  illustrates its claim to be the ultimate human philosophy. Men make  stories of their life. They believe the stories they make. And all human  stories contain a deus ex machina. 

Somehow, we don’t know how, Cicero lived well with the illusion of  the Greek myths. His life under classicism was comfortable, profitable,  and endowed with meaning. Thomas Aquinas lived well with the  impossible juxtaposition of the Holy Trinity and Aristotle. We don’t know  how he lived with the contradiction between an irrational faith and a  fanatically rational philosopher (Aristotle). Yet, his life under medievalism  was comfortable, profitable, and endowed with meaning. The Shake-speare poet lived with the impossible tyranny of an absolute and irrational  monarchy—when there was no free speech. Yet his life under Elizabethan  tyranny was comfortable, profitable, and endowed with meaning. They  all stumbled upon linguistic gods that tore apart brains and then resealed  them with wonder and majesty. 

Modernism now tears apart our brains. But this is an opportunity for  the strong poet. When matter is proven to be empty, when the trust of  modernist ideology becomes a wounded morality, when the citizen only  feels he is under surveillance by a hostile leviathan (the liberal state)—that  is the opportunity for the rogue male to enter. At first, he will only appear as a prophet of new speech. The speech will be looked for—expected. A  rumor will go out. 

Since this book is a category of literature, no one will read it before  it is too late to prevent the prophecies it contains. Yet it will be read with  virility. It will be discerned clearly only when the text of Kosmoautikon has  already entered the minds of men. Then every sentence of this text will be  held up as diamonds to the light—to see if anything has been missed. 

Kosmoautikon seeks the long-term perspective. Of course there are gods  of salvation and strong poets of high linguistic magic. Future generations  of the human genome project will look upon the sterility—the bland  sameness—the mediocrity of modernism with the same horror that we  look upon an impoverished medievalism or a tyrannical monarchy. Future  societies may be surprised at our limited concepts of life. 

They may be ashamed that our detection of life was exclusively  rational and mechanistic. They will be surprised of the lack of a developed  idiom for the non-material soul. They will ask how we could not see the  universe as it really is. They will wonder why there was no numerology of  souls. They will wonder how we could tolerate the ignorance and rapacity  of an endlessly corrupt, a ruthlessly commercialized, democracy. They  will wonder how we didn’t know what all experiments of matter prove:  there is no independently existing location of matter—apart from human  consciousness. They will ask how we did not know that consciousness is  the center of the universe—not matter. 

They will not ask to see our discolored, broken, and inoperable  machines. They will ask how is it we did not detect that we are all walking in  the mind of god. 

And of all our faithless deeds they will only ask for the sting of our rogue poets.

Ready to continue the journey? Kosmoautikon books 1-4 available now on Amazon.