The Hacker Who Drank Ayahuasca — Medium

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grayfox<br>on Mar 158 min

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The Hacker Who Drank Ayahuasca<br>In the 90's, everyone was weird. The weirdest among us shuffled off the coil of reality entirely. We were the age-less, culture-less, state-less, God-less generation raised by the Internet… which is to say, we were raised by each other.<br>The reason for departure differs from person to person: Your parents fought. You had an unusual face or were unsightly. You had weird hair or were full of too many idiosyncrasies. You wanted to learn the ways of technology. You went seeking for greater truths. You were lonely. Whatever it was, you did not hear the message that the social world would deliver — with tremendous success — to your physical peers. There was a mould, you did not belong in it and so you withdrew.<br>Like millions of others, you found solace on the Internet.

In the first grade, realization struck an intelligent and charismatic young boy. It was made clear to him that the previous years institutional sentence was not a one-off occurrence. It was, in fact, a pattern that would continue for the foreseeable future. Upon delivery to his classroom and a farewell from his mother, he refused to let go. Clinging to the legs of freedom and pleading to stay home, he tries to bargain through tears: he’ll be quiet, he’d be good!<br>It was evident to the classroom’s Matriarch that this boy had no inclination towards learning, sitting still and behaving like the rest of the faces who were pleasant and neat in their straight and well organized desk rows. She had a way of dealing with these things, a magical bullet that would evolve even the most spirited and wily little creature into a calm and phonetically excellent warm body of learning.

A pill was needed and it was one that was proven to be effective.<br>Unbeknownst to the Boy, who would continue to bounce around classes full of far too much energy - audacious in his desire to make friends and see them laugh while speaking out of turn, a discussion took place behind administrative doors with his parents. If he did not begin his regiment of federally approved medicine, they would no longer be interested in attempting to try and educate him.<br>And so, a Boy moves. He meets new friends. He moves again. New friends. A further move… this time things are different. Hormones have set in and he has withdrawn to his bedroom where his eyes are opened and an entirely new life begins. It is made clear that friends can be found in different places. Internet Relay Chat, Forums, Games, Ventrilo — someone is always there, weirder than the last, willing to share things and listen.<br>Being in a well-to-do neighbourhood, connected to a computer and a loving family, online activity appears as harmless and beautifully well intended as the water being poured over a landscaped garden. Relationships form, hobbies appear, skills develop, and suddenly a Boy becomes a name and transcends his flesh; a conduit for information, channelling unfathomable facts large and small to all possible corners of the world.

From BASH.ORGThe seemingly inattentive Boy has found an environment that seems to align with the rapidity and creativity of his mind. Secrets. So many secrets. Wisdom, bordering on magic — some of it dark, manipulative and dangerous. Much of it light: bright, helpful, inspired and altruistic. Wizardry comes not without consequence. Reality, the one you wake up to - the one that awaits you when you pack your lunch and leave for work - seems unperturbed by fresh revelations and begins to feel further and further away.<br>Social obligations become just that. Gatherings become set pieces, the people placed within them actors in a foreign play. Ambition embraced in moonlight fades when the sun is shining. Handfuls of gold become a sore back and a commute. Important conversations with fancy titles: “Chiefs”, “Directors”, “Managers”, become an adventure into patience. How much self-important puffery can he absorb before the moon-light warrior snaps a spell or two out from under a bored breath?

Depression is inevitable. A soul exists in one place, the body in another. A lost scroll of technical talents and anonymous international accomplishments, a resume destined to find a place as a cog in a spirit-less machine. Freedoms in digital exploration are reigned in and friends start to disappear. The voices that used to speak the loudest and clearest, suddenly stop signing in and trying to build or fix things. The Boy is a Man now… Men need to find ways to provide for their families and loved ones. Men need to...