Intelligent fabric does not need a director, to notify of when the wind is blowing so that it might know to ripple, weave and flow. The clouds don’t need a ruler to give permission to pour water. Gravity never signed the form titled “pulling objects to surface allowed here.” The entire patriarchal system of “pretending to be in charge of the universe,” up to and including making up “theories of everything” is a direct insult to all sentient entities everywhere. It was a fun game for the last few thousand years. This sandbox, however, is growing small. We can barely pretend any more about ownership, it has become nearly entirely immaterial, money in the bank has become a keystroke. Chop the bits into bits, bits into bits. What for? This is boring. A life bogged down at every turn by “please get this signed in triplicate” becomes tedious after the first few billion times.