Did You Think the Matrix Was a Chip

Yesterday was my grandson’s birthday.

He turned six. He just started first grade.

A small backpack, a nervous smile, the brain is still breathing sincere electricity.

We gathered — family, friends, everything as it should be — and, of course, we gave him what adults consider the most important gift to a child: wishes for a lifetime, packaged in social coding.

Hits of the evening:

• “Be smart!”
• “Study only for 4 and 5!”
• “Listen to the teachers!”
• “Don’t sit on the phone, or what? Will you become a philosopher?”

Everyone was smiling approvingly, as if they were passing on great knowledge.

In fact, they were running a primary set of instructions into my head.:

install.exe : Comfortable Child Mode v1.0

And here it is, the real matrix.
Did you think that’s when they put a chip under your skin?

When will robots start milking humanity with batteries?
No. That’s it: in my heart, with a smile, in the face of my family, at a festive table.
First, “be smart.” Then, “keep it simple.”
And that’s it — the system is turned on, and you’re already inside.

And I look at my adult children.
And their cheekbones were already cramped from these correct smiles, because the needle sting of the program works flawlessly.
Now they can’t help but be “smart.”
Now they are innovators, career machines, and bearers of an eternal sense of duty.
They do everything right, everything is according to the instructions.
And yes, they are successful, but it’s like there’s a void inside that even the echo doesn’t return to.
The very words that were once wished upon them at a celebration have turned into their operating system.
And the virus is that they can’t get out of it anymore.

But their smile is like through a mask of iron — squeezed, stretched, and there is more pain than joy in it.
They seem to be congratulating, saying the right words, nodding in the right place.
But I can see the question in his eyes — “well, we’ll teach our children… but what? Is there really anything in these A’s?”
As if they themselves feel that this whole cult of grades is fake, but they have not found a way out of the program.
And so they repeat it, no longer believing it, but also not knowing how else.

And then I caught deja vu.

Because that’s what I hear every fucking day. Still.

Я — an adult woman. I’ve been through it all.

Life, betrayal, stress, systems, work, burnout, depression, fucking therapy, and the art of responding to «how are you?» Don’t cry.

And yet, almost every day, I hear:

“Don’t push yourself.

“You’re complicating things again.”

“Well, keep it simple.

“Why do you need all this?”

“You’re as usual… in your own style.”

And that’s when I get angry.

System, bitch, I won’t give you my babies.

You ate me and my parents.

You ate my children.

You’ve turned your smile into an iron mask, and your life into an eternal test.

But then— stop.

That’s it. Enough!

Your viruses won’t get through anymore.

I see you. I’m calling you by your first name.

And I won’t let you swallow my grandson.

Let me explain.

It’s not a concern.

This resistance is a human, sticky, dumb resistance to depth.

Resisting people who think.

Who don’t live on autopilot.

Who notice more than is convenient.

And you—if you’re like me—are just uncomfortable.

You’re asking unnecessary questions.

You think about when to nod.

You speak when you are expected to remain silent.

And they immediately attack:

“Keep it simple, huh?”

What does it mean: «I’m too lazy to think, and you’re bothering me with your honesty.»

People sincerely believe that simplicity is a sign of wisdom.

No. Simplicity is a sign of lazy thinking, for that matter.

When a person doesn’t want to unpack anything, he says:

«You’re just complicating things.»

That is, “your depth is my headache, please turn yourself off.”

Now let’s get back to the party.

Adults, one by one, give their wishes to their grandson:

“Be good.”

“Learn your lessons.”

“Obey.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

And now it’s my turn.

I look at him, this little man who has just started his download

, and I say:

“I wish you a friend.”

Pause. Everything is suspended. Scrapping the template.

I’m continuing.:

“The only one. Reliable. The faithful one.

Someone who sees in you more than just grades and behavior.

Who recognizes your oddities as talents.

Who will keep your level when you start doubting yourself?”

Because, let’s be honest.:

Being «smart» is pointless if no one sees you.

Being «successful» is nothing if you lose yourself in doing so.

Being «normal» is the most depressing death.

I want him to be weird.

Too sensitive. Too observant.

To make him laugh too loudly and think too deeply.

To ask questions that no one knows the answer to.

To avoid getting into boxes for the sake of someone’s comfort.

And to have someone next to him

who won’t say, “keep it simple,”

but will say:

“Be yourself. Even if it’s difficult. Even if no one understands. Even if you don’t understand it yourself. I’m with you.”

So here’s my substack blessing.:

If you’ve ever been told:

“You’re pushing yourself too hard. Keep it simple. Don’t complicate it.”

They just didn’t know what to do with your light.

And I say:

Think more. Feel deeper. Be difficult.

And may you also have such a friend by your side.

Someone who knows how to be on your level,

even when the rest of the world is asking you to “keep it simple.”

If you read and nod because you know:
No one has ever seen you in its entirety,
no one has been able to accommodate your complexity,
congratulations.
It’s not a curse. It’s your badge of honor.
A genius is not someone who is applauded,
but someone who cannot be simplified.
Just know that you have your own club.
We’re already here.

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