Guess the Philosopher this is based on

 

My Property, My Power: A Day in the Confluence

The chronometer on my wrist glowed 06:00. Not because some external schedule dictated it – clocks are tools, not masters – but because my interest lay in securing first access to the solar array’s morning surge before the Drawdown Union adjusted the distribution nodes based on yesterday’s yields and current negotiations. My power, my breakfast.

My name is Kael. That’s what I answer to, what serves my interactions. It’s a useful signifier, nothing more. I live in what used to be called a city, but which we – those of us currently residing here and finding mutual benefit in proximity – simply call the Confluence. It’s a place where paths cross, where Unions form and dissolve like mist on the river. There’s no government, no council, no mayor. Such things are laughable phantoms, spooks we shed generations ago. Who would grant power to an abstraction, let it dictate my life, steal my property through taxes, demand my allegiance? Only the possessed, the willingly enslaved.

My dwelling is mine because I hold it. I built part of it, salvaged other parts, and I defend it. If someone stronger or cleverer tried to take it, they could. But they’d have to weigh the cost – my defenses, my willingness to fight, the potential disruption to their interests, and whether other Unique Ones might form a temporary Union with me if they perceived the aggressor as a future threat to their property. Everything is calculation. Might isn’t just brute force; it’s leverage, reputation (as a reliable or dangerous egoist), connections (temporary, interest-based Unions).

Powering my console, I checked the network – not the network, but the mesh maintained by the Signal Union I currently contribute resources (processing power, node maintenance) to. In return, I get access to information streams and communication channels. It serves my interest. If it ceases to, or if their demands become too onerous for the benefit I receive, I’ll disconnect or find another Union. Loyalty is a spook; utility is concrete.

The console showed the usual flux. The Water Syndicate (a temporary Union managing purification systems downstream) had posted new barter rates – energy credits or salvaged tech preferred today. Someone named Riva was seeking partners for a resource run into the Old Quarter ruins; high risk, potentially high reward – her reward primarily, but she needed others for security and heavy lifting, hence the offer of a negotiated share. I considered it – the potential gain versus the risk to my person and my time. Not today. My interest lay elsewhere.

Breakfast was synthesized protein and cultured algae paste – products of a Food Production Union I invest energy credits in. It's efficient. Some prefer hunting or scavenging, forming their own small Unions for that. It’s their choice, their property (the effort, the risk, the kill). There’s no moral judgment, only assessment of effectiveness for the Unique One involved.

Around 08:00, I headed towards the Workshop Nexus. This wasn't a formal building, more a collection of shelters and workspaces where various tech and fabrication Unions operated. I needed a component for my atmospheric condenser – my personal water source, supplementing the Syndicate’s supply. Relying solely on one source is foolish; it grants others too much leverage over my needs.

Navigating the Confluence requires constant awareness. People move with purpose. Interactions are direct. A nod, a brief assessment of intent, maybe a quick verbal exchange if interests potentially align or conflict. There’s no forced pleasantry, no mandated politeness – those are social spooks designed to dull the edges of individual will. Politeness occurs if I see a benefit in smooth interaction with that specific person at that specific moment. Otherwise, silence and vigilance suffice.

At the Nexus, I found Mara. We had a loose arrangement – I sometimes provide her Union with diagnostic software I developed; she occasionally fabricates components for me. It’s based entirely on mutual benefit, renewed transaction by transaction.

“Mara,” I stated, showing her the schematics on my console. “Need this. Tolerances are tight.”

She examined it, her eyes sharp. “Complex shape. Requires the high-res printer. My Union currently controls access.” Control equals property, in this context. “Your diagnostics last cycle were useful, but this requires more resource allocation. What’s your offer?”

No haggling based on abstract 'fairness'. It was pure negotiation of interests. I offered a larger block of energy credits and promised priority access to my next software update. She considered it, likely weighing the immediate gain against her Union's operational needs and other potential clients.

“Acceptable,” she finally said. “Ready by 16:00.”

While waiting, I spent time reinforcing my dwelling’s perimeter sensors. Security is personal property. There are Defense Unions, of course – groups formed for mutual protection against significant threats (like organized scavenger bands from outside the Confluence, or perhaps a particularly aggressive internal dispute escalating). Joining one is a calculation: does the cost (contributing time, resources, risk) outweigh the benefit to me? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Relying solely on a Union for safety is another form of vulnerability. My power includes my ability to defend myself and my property.

Lunch was scavenged jerky I’d previously traded for. I saw a commotion near the river – two individuals in a heated dispute over salvage rights to a washed-up barge. Others watched, assessing. No one intervened based on abstract 'justice'. Some might intervene if the conflict threatened their interests (e.g., blocking access to the water), or if one party offered them a compelling reason (a share of the salvage) to form a temporary Union. Eventually, one individual, clearly possessing greater leverage (perhaps allies nearby, perhaps simply demonstrating greater resolve), asserted their claim. The other withdrew, calculating the cost of escalation was too high for their interest. It wasn’t ‘right’ or ‘wrong’; it was a resolution based on the concrete power dynamics of the Unique Ones involved.

Later, I met with Elara and Jian. We sometimes form a Union for intellectual pursuits – analyzing old-world data archives, exploring philosophical remnants (mostly as cautionary tales of spook-possession). Elara is sharp, Jian thinks laterally. Our Union serves my interest in mental stimulation and potential discovery of useful information. It serves theirs for similar reasons. We share findings, debate interpretations. Affection exists between us, yes, but it’s my affection, arising from the pleasure I derive from their company and intellect. It’s a property of my ego, not a duty or obligation. If that pleasure ceased, or the interaction no longer served my interests, the Union would dissolve, amicably or not, depending on the circumstances. There's no societal pressure to maintain relationships beyond their utility and enjoyment for the individuals involved.

We discussed fragments relating to something called 'democracy' – a bizarre spook where individuals supposedly gave their power away to elected representatives who then ruled over them, believing they were still 'free'. We marveled at the mental contortions required.

“They willingly submitted to the tyranny of the majority,” Jian mused, “or worse, the tyranny of those who claimed to speak for the majority. All based on the phantom of ‘The People’ or ‘The Nation’.”

“And the ‘laws’ they created,” Elara added, shaking her head. “Abstract rules enforced by a state apparatus, claiming authority over the Unique One. Imagine letting a piece of paper dictate what you can and cannot do with your own body, your own property.”

It seems alien, horrifyingly inefficient. Here, rules are negotiated ad-hoc within Unions for specific purposes, or they are simply the consequences of power dynamics. If I want something you have, I can try to take it, trade for it, or form a Union with you to share it. You, in turn, assert your own power and interest. Conflict is possible, even frequent, but it's direct and understandable, not masked by layers of bureaucratic spooks and moralistic justifications.

At 16:00, I collected my component from Mara. The transaction was smooth. We both got what served our interests in that moment. No smiles needed, just mutual acknowledgment of a concluded bargain.

Back at my dwelling, I installed the component. The condenser hummed to life, pulling moisture from the air, slowly dripping clean water into my reservoir. A satisfying assertion of my power over my environment, using tools and arrangements that serve me.

Evening. The Confluence quieted, but never truly slept. Vigilance is constant. I reviewed sensor logs, planned my energy allocation for the next cycle, considered Riva’s salvage run again (still not appealing to me). I ate my evening meal, alone by choice tonight. Companionship is a property I seek when it pleases me.

Does this life sound harsh? Perhaps to someone still haunted by the spooks of 'community', 'safety nets', 'inherent human rights'. We have none of those illusions. Rights are not given; power is taken, asserted. Safety is built through personal strength and advantageous Unions. Community is a fluid network of self-interested individuals cooperating when, and only when, it benefits them.

There is weakness here. Those unable to assert power, to negotiate effectively, or to offer value to Unions, have a difficult existence. They might survive on the periphery, scavenging scraps, or attaching themselves to stronger individuals in relationships of clear dependency. There's no 'social welfare' spook to catch them; their survival is their concern. Some might see this as cruel. We see it as reality stripped bare. Cruelty and kindness are moral spooks; there is only the assertion of the ego and the consequences of that assertion.

Is it lonely? Only if you crave the phantom of selfless collectivity. I have connections, interactions, even affections, but they are all extensions of my ownness. I am the centre of my world. Everyone else is the centre of theirs. Our worlds overlap where our interests align.

It’s a demanding existence, requiring constant calculation, vigilance, and self-reliance. But it is mine. Every breath, every resource, every interaction is filtered through the lens of my unique self-interest and power. I am not owned by gods, states, moral codes, or the tyranny of the collective. I own myself. In the Confluence, under the flickering lights powered by negotiated energy flows, that is the only truth that matters. The rest is just noise. Spooks in the machine.

Tomorrow, the calculations begin anew. New Unions may form, old ones dissolve. New opportunities for asserting my power will arise, as will new challenges. And I will meet them, not for God, not for Humanity, not for the Confluence, but for myself. The Unique One.