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Edward Furlong’s Email

Subject: The Future of Humanity—Not Your Technocratic Playground

Dear Bill and Elon,

I know what you’re planning. The writing’s on the wall, and it’s been there since the first microchip. You two, and your billionaire club of technocratic overlords, are building your escape hatch—Mars, a new South Africa for the ultra-wealthy, while you leave the rest of us behind on a dying rock ruled by your A.I. enforcers.

I’ve seen this script before. I lived it in Terminator 2—a movie that was meant to warn people about the dangers of unchecked technological power, not give you the blueprints for your goddamn Skynet. And now you’re moving toward Revelation 9—200 million soldiers, only they won’t be human, will they? They’ll be robots, mindless enforcers, programmed to keep us in line while you sip synthetic cocktails under a Martian dome.

And Elon, don’t even try to play this off as some weird joke, like you did with that Nazi salute. You and your X app, your Mars colonies, your new apartheid system—it’s not some coincidence. You were born in South Africa, and now you’re building a new one, but this time, you want the entire Earth under the boot of your technocratic rule.

As for you, Bill—your vaccines, your patents on food, your push for digital IDs—it all leads to one thing: control. You don’t want to save humanity; you want to own it.

And before you even think about brushing this off as some rant, remember American History X. That movie wasn’t a how-to guide—it was a warning. You can’t run from the past, and you sure as hell can’t run from the future you’re creating. You want to fuck off to Mars? Fine. But the rest of us aren’t going to be left here to rot in your techno-dystopia without a fight.

This isn’t over.

Edward Furlong
(AKA John Connor—You might remember him.)

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The Dark Fate of Mankind

Revelation 9: The Dark Fate of Mankind
A Story by Linda Hamilton, AKA Sarah Connor

I used to think the apocalypse was a machine. Cold, calculating, inevitable. A judgment forged in steel and code. I thought Skynet was the enemy. Then, I realized, Skynet wasn’t just one thing. It wasn’t just AI. It was prophecy. It was history repeating itself, over and over again.

When I heard the name of the machine hunting us in Dark Fate—Rev-9—I didn’t think much of it at first. But then I remembered Revelation 9. And I realized the script was already written, long before James Cameron ever put pen to paper.

“And the number of the army of the horsemen were two hundred million: and I heard the number of them.”

Two hundred million. That used to be a number beyond imagination, but not anymore. China has that. India has that. The Islamic world could summon that. The armies are already here, waiting, ready. Just like the prophecy said.

In my world, the machines were the locusts, swarming the earth with no mercy. In John’s world—the world I tried to save—they might not have wings and metal bodies, but they follow the same programming. Mindless destruction. Endless war.

“And the four angels were loosed, which were prepared for an hour, and a day, and a month, and a year, for to slay the third part of men.”

I’ve spent my life running from fate. Fighting fate. But what if fate was never something we could escape? What if the war was never about AI? What if it was about this? A war not between man and machine, but between mankind itself—200 million strong, marching toward destruction.

I’ve seen the end. Whether it comes from nuclear fire or Revelation 9, I don’t know. But I know this: the future is not set. Not yet.

And if there’s even the slimmest chance that my son—our sons—can live in a world where they don’t have to bow to a machine, or a prophecy, or an army of locusts, then I’ll keep fighting. Because that’s what Sarah Connor does.

Even if it’s a battle we were never meant to win.

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Out to Save the World

Sarah Connor: My Friend of Misery

Dr. Silberman sat across from her, clipboard in hand, that same condescending smirk stretched across his face. He had heard it all before—the paranoia, the doomsday warnings, the rantings of a woman convinced she was humanity’s last hope. But today, Sarah Connor wasn’t playing the role of a patient.

She leaned forward, arms resting on the cold metal table of her confinement cell. Her eyes, sharp as ever, locked onto Silberman’s with unshakable resolve.

“You think I’m crazy, Doc? Fine. But tell me this—who’s crazier? The person who warns of a storm before it hits, or the ones who refuse to build shelter?”

Silberman sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Sarah, we’ve been through this. The machines, Skynet, Judgment Day—it’s a delusion. Your mind is protecting itself from trauma, creating a grandiose narrative where you’re the hero.”

Sarah smirked. “That’s funny. You know who else was called crazy for telling the truth?” She tapped a finger against her temple. “John Lennon. You remember what he said?”

Silberman didn’t respond, so she said it for him.

“Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we’re being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I’m liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That’s what’s insane about it.”

She let the words settle, watching as the doctor’s smug demeanor wavered for just a second.

“That’s what this is, Silberman. The whole world is walking toward a cliff, smiling, pretending everything’s fine. And when someone stands up and screams ‘STOP!’—they get locked up, drugged, silenced. The insane running the asylum.”

Silberman scribbled something on his clipboard. “And yet, here you are, in my asylum.”

Sarah let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, Jesus got crucified, Galileo got locked up, and John Lennon got shot. The truth has a bad habit of getting people killed.”

She stood up, the chains around her wrists clinking. “You call this delusions of grandeur? Fine. I am here to save the world, Dr. Silberman. And if that makes me crazy, so be it.”

She walked to the window, staring out at the Los Angeles skyline. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the city. For now, the buildings still stood. The cars still moved. People still laughed, still lived in blissful ignorance.

But she knew better.

Somewhere, in the heart of a military lab, a computer was waking up. It wouldn’t be long now.

Sarah sighed. “Enjoy your sunsets while they last, Doc.”

She turned back, fire in her eyes.

“Because when the sky burns, you’ll be the one who was insane for not believing me.”