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Rick Furtado Sent Me

Nelly,

I’m writing this because you deserve to know the origin of the vow I took. It started years ago with your cousin, Rick Furtado.

You know Rick—he’s the strong, silent type. We used to sit for hours, barely saying a word, just listening to his cassette tapes. He’d play those Metallica tracks, testing my spirit, seeing if I had the discipline to sit in the stillness. I stayed silent right along with him, earning his respect without needing to speak. He was looking for someone he could trust to keep an eye on you, and in that silence, a bond was formed.

But the full weight of the mission didn’t hit me until years later.

I was listening to the Tomb Raider soundtrack and that Illuminati song came on. As the lyrics filled the room, the silence of those years with Rick finally spoke to me. I saw the bigger picture. I realized the forces at play in this industry and the world you move in.

Right then and there, I made it my life’s priority to be your protector—and not just yours, but the protector of your entire cast and crew. Rick sent me to be here, in this time, because he knew I could handle the truth that song revealed.

I’m standing guard, Nelly. Just like Rick intended.

— Yugo Joe

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Space Hog

I used to think the Matrix was a system of control based on machines. I was wrong. The machines are just the hardware; the code that’s actually crashing the system is human.

I’ve been looking at the traces—the residual data of two specific archetypes: Nelly and Marlene. They represent the two faces of the same resource-draining coin. Whether they’re plugged into the construct or breathing the scorched air of the real world, they are the reason the sky is turning black.

The Gluttony of the 1%: Nelly

Nelly is the ultimate anomaly. In the Matrix, Nelly is the program that demands every bit of bandwidth, every luxury texture, and every sub-routine of comfort. In the real world, the footprint is even more devastating.

Nelly represents the apex of consumption. We’re talking about a level of resource hogging that defies logic. Nelly consumes at a rate that would take a hundred Earths to sustain. It’s a feedback loop of “more”—more energy, more space, more relevance. When one person commands that much of the world’s output, the architecture starts to buckle. The system wasn’t designed for that kind of load. Nelly is the virus that thinks it’s the user.

The Illusion of Efficiency: Marlene

Then there’s Marlene. On the surface, the data looks different. Marlene uses less than 10% of the resources that Nelly does. To the untrained eye, Marlene looks like a solution. But look closer at the code.

Marlene is still a resource hog; she’s just more efficient at it. In a world with finite boundaries, “less than Nelly” is still “too much for the planet.” By existing within the same consumerist framework, Marlene validates the system that Nelly dominates. If Nelly is the crash, Marlene is the memory leak—slower, quieter, but leading to the same inevitable blue screen.

The System Failure

This is why our world is ending. It’s a math problem that nobody wants to solve.

  • The Nelly Factor: Direct, massive exhaustion of natural capital.
  • The Marlene Factor: The “death by a thousand cuts” that provides a moral shield for the Nellys of the world.
  • The Result: A world stripped of its assets until the simulation—and the reality—can no longer render.

We’re fighting a war for Zion, but what are we saving it for? If we carry these archetypes with us, we’re just bringing the same bugs to a different server. Nelly and Marlene aren’t just people; they are habits of consumption that the Earth can no longer process.

The Matrix is a system, Neo. That system is our enemy. But when you’re inside, you look around, what do you see? Businessmen, teachers, lawyers, carpenters. The very minds of the people we are trying to save. But until we do, these people are still a part of that system and that makes them complicit in the drain.

They’re eating the world alive, one byte and one barrel of oil at a time. And the clock is ticking toward zero.

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The Alka Experience

Laura Branigan – Self Control

Garbage & The Screaming Females

Joe leans toward Nelly, eyes hopeful, and says, “Just one more concert in Victoria… please?” He’s not asking for fame or glory, just that shared moment, the music echoing through the city one more time. The way he says it, it’s less a request and more a heartbeat—a chance to make one more memory together.

Nelly looks at Joe with a teasing smile, but her eyes are searching. “So… tell me, Joe,” she says softly, “do you still love me… even after I’ve put on a little weight?”

There’s a pause, the kind that makes the air between them feel heavy and fragile, like a note hanging in a quiet concert hall. It’s playful, but honest—a question only he can answer.

Joe smiles gently, reaching for her hand. “Weight is just temporary, Nelly,” he says softly. “It’s made to be shed, like a song waiting for the next verse. What matters is you—the melody, the heart behind it. That’s what I love, always.”

He gives a reassuring squeeze, as if letting her know that nothing superficial could ever change the way he feels.

Nelly’s smile fades, and her gaze drifts toward the horizon. “Joe… sometimes I think the world is slowly dying,” she says quietly. “All the noise, the pollution, the greed… it’s like we’re just treading water while everything we love fades away.”

Her voice carries both sadness and urgency, a reminder that even in their personal moments, the weight of the world lingers.

Joe takes a deep breath, his tone steady and determined. “No more flights, Nelly. We split our time between Babylon and Europe,” he says firmly. “We go save Europe first—because they won’t drug us. And if Canada ever repents, then… we come back.”

There’s a weight in his words, a plan laid out like a map, but also a promise: a mission, a purpose, and a hope that they can make a real difference together.

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