The Oracle
A man once stood before the oracle.
Not for guidance. For permission.
He didn’t ask should I.
He asked how.
The oracle answered.
The burden of the question shaped the answer.
He walked away with divine instructions.
Later, when the blood dried, he blamed fate.
But it wasn’t fate.
It was the wrong question.
We live with new oracles now.
They vibrate in our pockets. Glow in our rooms.
We ask: How do I win? How do I sell? How do I get them to love me?
The oracle answers.
It gives us paths, predictions, permissions.
But never asks: Are you sure that’s what you really need?
The danger isn’t in the oracle.
It’s in us.
The old seers never told the future.
They warned us that you cannot outrun yourself.
We treat the new oracles like a road map.
But the road leads back to where we came from.
Ask the oracle how to live, and it gives you riddles.
Ask it how to win, and it gives you what you deserve.
Ask it the wrong question, and it answers the one you shouldn’t have asked.
The fault isn’t in its answers.
It’s in the question.
The ancients called it tragedy.
We call it disruption.