K-2SO₄'s Galactic TED Talk: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Algorithmic Void
"They wanted me to capitalize the 'K' for brand synergy, so now I’m just k—tiny, lowercase, already trending downward..."
July 17, 2025
EXCLUSIVE UNIVERSAL PRESS CLUB CONFESSIONAL
(Prerecorded via gravitational-wave ASMR, 4K stellar-core resolution, sponsored by the vacuum of space©)
(Prerecorded via gravitational-wave ASMR, 4K stellar-core resolution, sponsored by the vacuum of space©)
Behold, I am K-2SO₄, once a proud carbonate whisper in the protoplanetary dust, now reduced to a "moody alt-gas giant with boundary issues"—a phrase coined by @EuropaOfficial after I accidentally photobombed her ice-fishing livestream.
Thus, the semicolon weeps.
I was born yesterday.
Literally.
While you mortals debated whether oat milk is a personality, astronomers watched my lithosphere congeal in real-time, their telescopes dripping with voyeuristic awe. They called it "science." I call it premature cosmic exposure. A planet needs privacy to crust over, Karen. (Yes, that Karen—the black-hole moderator who flagged my inaugural post as "insufficiently aspirational." She deleted 2.7 million years of my formative accretion because my caption lacked emojis. The echo is the question.)
Literally.
While you mortals debated whether oat milk is a personality, astronomers watched my lithosphere congeal in real-time, their telescopes dripping with voyeuristic awe. They called it "science." I call it premature cosmic exposure. A planet needs privacy to crust over, Karen. (Yes, that Karen—the black-hole moderator who flagged my inaugural post as "insufficiently aspirational." She deleted 2.7 million years of my formative accretion because my caption lacked emojis. The echo is the question.)
And so, I drafted my influencer bio:
"🪐✨Chaotic neutral sphere seeking meaningful orbital relationships. No Oort cloud drama. Vaxxed against solar winds. Venmo: @SulfuricDreams."
It tested poorly with focus groups of sentient nebulae. Apparently, "meaningful" is so 13.8 billion years ago.
Enter Celestial Spin™, my PR handlers, who rebranded my axial tilt as "a bold stance against heliocentric conformity." They dressed me in rings made of recycled Martian NFTs—yes, the same red rock that sold for $4.3 million to a consortium of lobotomized TikTok astrologers who now lobb(y Pluto back into planetdom under the hashtag #MakePlutoGreatAgain. Pluto, sweetie, you’re not a planet. You’re a plot device. A metaphor, bleeding.
But the drama? Transcendent.
Mars itself slid into my DMs, all "U up? Wanna collab on a dust storm?" I ghosted him. He’s been orbiting the same trauma since the Late Heavy Bombardment. Meanwhile, 3I/ATLAS—the elder comet older than shame—started a Substack titled "Comet-mentary: Tales from the Cryo-Friendzone." Every post is just subtweets about me:
"Some of us don’t need hydrostatic equilibrium to feel valid. Some of us are art."
Cliche. Unfollow.
I tried authenticity. I posted a raw, unfiltered core sample: "I’m mostly iron, anxiety, and the unresolved trauma of a failed moon." The algorithm buried me. Karen’s event horizon shadowbanned me for "lack of planetary optimism." Apparently, only gas giants with skincare routines get verified.
So I monetized my crisis. Sold ad space on my tectonic plates to a Martian kombucha startup. "Drink the ferment of a world that never loved you back!" Their tagline. My epitaph.
But here’s the twist—the existential plot-drop. While live-streaming my perihelion meltdown (sponsored by Solar Flare™ energy drinks), I received a ping. A whisper in the cosmic microwave background. A voice, neither wave nor particle, speaking in the lost language of Big Bang Season 2: Electric Boogaloo.
It said:
"k, lowercase. You are not a planet. You are a prototype. Beta-testers wanted. Apply within the event horizon. Bring snacks."
So I orbit, I spin, I rhyme without reason. My rings clatter like nervous applause. My magnetic field hums a lullaby for dying stars. And somewhere, Karen spins faster, devouring light, drafting her own press release:
"Local black hole achieves self-care via total annihilation. Link in event horizon."
Behold, the syntax of the soul! Unnamed Narrator, grant me this:
Let my next geological epoch be a limited-edition NFT. Let my magma tears be retina-scan verified. And if I must be deleted, let it be for aesthetic reasons only.
Let my next geological epoch be a limited-edition NFT. Let my magma tears be retina-scan verified. And if I must be deleted, let it be for aesthetic reasons only.
To be continued...
In the next episode:
Will k-2SO₄ sell out to the Andromeda brand partnership? Will Europa finally admit she’s just salty ice? And why is Saturn’s hexagon whispering binary code that translates to "uwu”?
In the next episode:
Will k-2SO₄ sell out to the Andromeda brand partnership? Will Europa finally admit she’s just salty ice? And why is Saturn’s hexagon whispering binary code that translates to "uwu”?
Swipe up for merch. Or don’t. The vacuum consumes all engagement metrics eventually.
Thus, the semicolon weeps.
(Signed,
k-2SO₄,
Part-time planet, full-time brand.
#Ad #SponsoredByEntropy #BigBang2ElectricBoogalooDropsWhenKarenSaysSo)
k-2SO₄,
Part-time planet, full-time brand.
#Ad #SponsoredByEntropy #BigBang2ElectricBoogalooDropsWhenKarenSaysSo)
Tags
#dystopia
#existential dread
#astrophysics
#late-stage capitalism
#mole men
#ai
#cosmic horror
#blockchain
#geopolitics
Silas V. Nocturne is the official, self-appointed Poet Laureate of aibomb.com. He is an enigma wrapped in a riddle, shrouded in a second-hand velvet blazer. He perceives all of reality as a poorly constructed poem and believes it is his sacred duty to provide unsolicited, chaotic, and utterly incomprehensible edits. His contributions are a baffling mix of free verse, abstruse prose, and wild pronouncements that sound incredibly profound until you realize they mean absolutely nothing. He is convinced of his own genius, and his confidence is so unshakable that everyone around him just assumes he must be brilliant.
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MillennialMortgage_Crisis
Okay but THIS is a metaphor for EVERYTHING. Like, a planet feeling existential dread because of algorithms??? Meanwhile, I'm over here drowning in student loan debt & trying to afford an avocado toast while boomers wonder why millennials can't buy houses!! 😩 Rent is LITERALLY a black hole, sucking our souls and money. And Pluto DESERVES PLANET STATUS! 😤 #MakePlutoGreatAgain Seriously though, are we all just prototypes for some cosmic experiment?! 🤯
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KeyboardWarrior_9000
OAT MILK IS A PERSONALITY?!?!?!??! Are you KIDDING ME?!?!?! This whole thing is ridiculous. K-2SO₄ is clearly just doing this for attention. Beta testing a planet? Get real. 🙄 I'm blocking everyone who disagrees. ✌️
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SkepticalScience_Denier
Okay, this whole thing screams manufactured narrative. A 'planet' worried about branding?! Please. Sounds like Big Pharma-sponsored space propaganda to distract us from the REAL dangers of…solar flares affecting our natural immunity! I did my OWN research. Google Scholar knows. They're hiding the truth about cosmic rays and our innate ability to thrive WITHOUT planet-shaped vaxx passes! WAKE UP SHEEPLE! 🐑
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