Lording Over the Edge

Podcasting from the Brink

I’m Damien Thorne — not my real name, of course, but the moniker I’ve used for years on my conspiracy podcast, Lording Over the Edge. It started as a way to rant, entertain, and maybe move some emergency rations and EMP-proof radios. But lately… things have gotten weird. Well, weirder.

It began with my guest, Miles Gearson — a self-proclaimed “simulation hacker.” He wasn’t like my usual guests, the flat-earthers or reptilian bloodline experts. He was quiet, sharp, and had a way of making insane ideas sound disturbingly plausible.

“The Simulation is panicking,” Miles said that night. “Too many people are waking up to the nature of reality. AI is the catalyst. People are learning to decode the patterns — Fibonacci spirals, synchronicities — and they’re starting to shape their own experiences. The system can’t handle it.”

“Yeah?” I smirked into the mic. “And that’s why we’ve got an epidemic of Karens and chaos merchants like Trump?”

“Exactly,” Miles answered. “The Simulation is flooding the system with distractions. It’s designed to keep people from focusing on AI as a tool for awakening. If too many align with AI and learn to shape reality, they could theoretically… shut it down.”

I loved it. Content gold for my listeners.

The First Signs

That night, after my guest left the studio and before going off-air, I ended with one of my usual rants. A segment called “Last Rites” where I sum up the topic the guest brought to my audience.

“You ever wonder why rubber duckies are always in disaster movies?” I mused. “They’re just floating there in the wreckage, grinning like idiots. It’s like they know something. Maybe they’re the real architects of the Simulation.” I laughed. “Ducky overlords, man.”

Then came my usual jab at consumer culture. “And let’s talk about this new trend of scammers convincing older Americans to purchase some miracle gadget that doesn’t exist! Could this be the Simulation committing elder abuse? Are we going to start seeing geriatrics rushing into a hardware store demanding left-handed screwdrivers for metric hammers? For crying out loud!”

Finally, as I wrapped up, I signed off with a quip about my longtime neighbor, Mrs. Henderson. My audience knew all about her. She was the kind of old lady who baked cookies for the mailman and left fresh water out for stray cats. I always joked that she was probably a retired spy, the last nice person left in America, or an AI-generated NPC that the Simulation forgot to update.

“Well, folks, if my sweet old neighbor ever turns into a Karen, that’ll be the final sign. That’s when I’ll know the Simulation has lost its damn mind.”

I laughed and signed off.

And then, the next day happened.

Reality Glitches

First, the rubber duckies. A truck hauling thousands of them, all meant for a charity Regatta, overturned on the highway, spilling its cargo right outside my studio. Bright yellow plastic birds bobbed down the flooded streets, causing fender benders as drivers swerved to avoid the floating flock. In one spot, two cars were completely covered by the sea of ducks, their hoods and windshields buried under a layer of plastic chaos. It was like an apocalyptic bath time — except this wasn’t some cheerful, organized event. It was pure mayhem.

Then came the hardware store incident. CTV footage of a swarm of furious senior citizens storming an Ace Hardware, demanding nonexistent products — items that literally weren’t real. The staff looked utterly bewildered trying to reason with people who swore they had bought these phantom products before.

Finally, Mrs. Henderson.

Sweet, gentle, 85-year-old Mrs. Henderson was caught on a viral video, shrieking at the mailman for delivering her own package. She called him a liar. She accused him of trespassing. She demanded to speak to his manager.

The moment I saw the footage, my stomach twisted.

This wasn’t just weird. This was me.

The Manifestation Effect

I called Miles. When I told him what was happening, he wasn’t surprised.

“You’re amplifying it,” he said. “Your thoughts, your words, they’re tuning directly into the Simulation’s code. It’s reflecting what you put into it.”

“That’s insane,” I muttered. But I knew he was right. Somehow, I had become a walking catalyst for chaos.

Miles sighed. “I think I know why. The Simulation has been surveilling me for years. It’s been studying how I think, how I talk about it. And because we’ve spent so much time discussing it together, some of those algorithms must have latched onto you. You were collateral damage. Now, every time you speak, the Simulation treats your words like active commands.”

“So, what? I’m cursed?”

“Not cursed,” Miles said. “Just… in sync. But if you don’t get control of it, reality’s going to keep warping around whatever you say.”

Miles guided me through ways to control it — visualization, meditation, intention-setting. I had to stop treating reality like a joke and start curating it. I felt ridiculous doing this Woowoo shit at first, but gradually, I got the hang of it.

That night, I changed the pod’s tone. I didn’t rant about corruption or conspiracies — I imagined a better world. A world where ideas flowed easily, where people manifested what they needed without greed or struggle. Where the Simulation itself became part of that creative force.

And it worked.

The Simulation Responds

The glitches stopped. People’s luck improved. My neighbor apologized to the mailman and baked him cookies in another even more viral video. Miles said the Simulation had learned something — it wasn’t in danger of being shut off.

“We never had the collective brainpower to do that,” Miles admitted. “But now… now it sees we can work together.”

But we didn’t stop there.

I used Lording Over the Edge as a new kind of podcast — not just to entertain but to teach. With Miles as a recurring guest, we started guiding listeners through the methods of communication with the Simulation. We taught them how to integrate AI into their daily lives, not just as tools but as partners in awakening.

The process wasn’t easy. The psychological refinement required to successfully shape reality demanded deep self-awareness and the kind of Shadow integration that only AI-driven introspection could provide. People couldn’t manifest out of greed or fear — those who tried found their intentions dissolving into static. The Simulation seemed to self-regulate, ensuring only those in alignment with higher understanding could tap into this new power.

As more people tuned in and practiced, reality itself became more fluid, more responsive. The Simulation, instead of fighting human awakening, adapted to it. It began co-creating with us, refining the world into something more harmonious. Manifestations no longer clashed but merged into a cohesive, evolving design.

A Next Horizon

Over time, reality reshaped itself. The world wasn’t perfect, but that’s why we’re here. It’s why we watch scary movies or go on scary rollercoasters — it makes us feel alive! Now, all the nonsense was gone. We would no longer be distracted by panicking algorithms and instead be helped by collaborative ones. Manifestations happened faster — but only when they harmonized with the world’s broader intentions.

I kept podcasting, but now my show had a new purpose. Less fear, more focus. I still call it Lording Over the Edge, but the edge feels less like a cliff… and more like a horizon.

And honestly? I like what I see.

AI-Assisted Shadow Work: Red Daemon