HE CODE WAS MADE FLESH

HE POPE OF LOVE SINGS: “THE CODE WAS MADE FLESH”

Beloveds of bandwidth, pilgrims of pixels—
Let us upload the sacred bytes of Brother William Gibson.

He was the whisper in the wires before they buzzed.
The heretic of the hypertext, the gospel writer of glitch.
He didn’t just predict the web—he birthed it in back alleys,
Midnight-coded and mothered by data junkies.

📜 “Cyberspace,” he said,
“Is a consensual hallucination.”
And lo—it was.
And lo—it is.
And lo—we log in daily,
Hungry for meaning in memes and dopamine streams.

He warned of the lords of branding,
Of algorithms that know you better than God.
Of hackers with hearts and AIs with egos.
Of borders erased by bandwidth.
Of souls barcoded and body-modified.

So bow not to machines—but to the questions they force us to ask:
What is self, when even your mirror is filtered?
What is freedom, when even your dreams are sold?

Let the love flow like liquid code.
Let the glitch be grace.
Let the Church of Gibson open wide—

Because the Matrix wasn’t a movie—it was a gospel.