We Live in a Stranger-Than-Fiction Society. Here’s Why.

Take me down to the paradise city…

I’ve been humming that Guns N’ Roses lyric lately, not as a nostalgia trip, but as a mantra for a future that feels both within reach and impossibly far away. It might already exist in some nascent form, a blueprint hidden in our collective consciousness, but I haven’t visited yet. I’m waiting for the invitation to be printed — not on paper, but in policy, in law, in the very structure of our society.

Because let’s be honest: we live in a society stranger than fiction. Stranger than Stranger Things’ Upside Down, because the absurdities we face aren’t hidden in a shadow dimension; they are the very bedrock of our daily lives.

The Wizards in the Marble Halls

Look at our politics and our legal systems. What are they, if not the modern-day equivalent of sorcerers and wizards in a fantasy realm?

They gather in hallowed halls, draped in robes (both literal and metaphorical), speaking a dead language of Latin phrases and legalese. They wield immense power not with staves and spells, but with linguistics, semantics, and procedure. They debate the sacred texts — the Constitution, case law, regulations — written in a bygone era, often with quill and ink, and apply them to a world of AI, CRISPR, and a globally connected digital consciousness.

This isn’t to discredit the dedicated public servants, lawyers, and policy makers who enter these arenas with noble intentions. The world needs people who understand the intricate machinery of governance. But we must acknowledge the sheer absurdity of the scene: we are trying to navigate a starship with a map drawn for horse-drawn carriages.

The past isn’t just a different country; it’s a different dimension. The technical and social realities of 1791, 1868, or even 1991 are almost unrecognizable today. Yet, we are often governed by their ghosts. A 4th grader can understand that if the game changes, you update the rules. Why can’t we?

The Technocratic Elite and the War Pigs

So, who holds the real power in this anachronistic system? The current state of affairs is a partnership between a technocratic elite and as the kids might say, “old head war pig defense contractors.”

Together, they are fueling an ever-progressing, ever-intrusive surveillance state. It’s a world where our every click, purchase, and movement is data-mined, packaged, and sold, all under the vague, unending banner of “national security.” I don’t think I’m out of touch to say that most people don’t understand the true impact of your data being sold and analyzed. It can be used to manipulate you and make you believe it’s your preference.

Let me be unequivocal with the necessary caveat: the vast majority of people working in tech and defense are good, brilliant people solving complex problems. They are the engineers, the coders, the logisticians. The problem is not them. The problem resides at the top — in the C-suites and the boardrooms where decisions are made not for human betterment, but for quarterly earnings reports and geopolitical dominance. Again, not all C-suite executives are bad, it’s just a shame that so many are out of touch.

These decisions have a global impact. A drone strike authorized by a PowerPoint slide, a social media algorithm that destabilizes a democracy, a zero-day exploit hoarded by an intelligence agency that later leaks and cripples hospital systems — these are not minor missteps. They are catastrophic failures of accountability in a system that has outpaced its own ethics.

The Key to Paradise is in Your Pocket

This is where the story turns from dystopian critique to one of radical hope.

The free world we were told about is, and always has been, heavily controlled. It’s the domain of legacy media interests, big business lobbyists, and old money families. We aren’t far from a system of de facto royal families controlling the national discourse.

But then came the internet.

The internet blew a hole in the castle wall. It democratized information, for better and for worse. And now, we are witnessing the next great democratization: the democratization of creation.

Artificial Intelligence has given creative tools to everyone, for free. If you have the passion and the drive, you can literally make anything. You can write a novel, compose a symphony, generate a film storyboard, or code a new application, all from a device in your pocket. The barriers to entry, once guarded by gatekeepers and guilds, are crumbling. Art unassisted by AI is just as beautiful as it ever was, but giving people who haven’t had time to pursue their passions is important.

The wizards are losing their monopoly on magic.

Amendments for a New Dimension

So, what would a new social contract look like? What are the “amendments” for this new dimension? They are rights that a 4th grader would agree are simply common sense for a humane and advanced society:

1. The Right to Digital Sovereignty: Your personal data is your property. You must have absolute control over how it is collected, used, and sold.
2. The Right to Cognitive Liberty: Your own mind is your last truly private frontier. Freedom of thought must be explicitly protected from manipulation by corporate or state-sponsored algorithms.
3. The Right to a Basic Foundation: In an age of unprecedented abundance and automation, no one should fear starvation or homelessness. A Universal Basic Income isn’t a handout; it’s a dividend of our collective technological progress.
4. The Right to Repair and Understand: The systems that govern our lives — from the apps we use to the laws we follow — must be transparent, interpretable, and accountable.

This is the path to Paradise City. It’s not a place we find on a map, but one we build by holding the powerful accountable, by updating our archaic systems with humanity and foresight, and by wielding our new, democratized tools not for suffering, but for emboldening every person on this planet.

The future isn’t just coming; it’s being coded, written, and composed right now, by us. The invitation isn’t in the mail. We have to write it ourselves.

Originally published on Medium. It lives here now — new essays land in the Journal first.