It was a cold day in January, 2030. Curtis Yarvin was celebrating his wedding, having been made a widower once again - more heart problems, it seems. In the midst of his grief, he had found love, this time with a young transgirl. It wasn't his first foray into the love that dare not speak its name, he still had fond memories of his affair with BronzeAgeChoirBoy all those many years ago. Curtis loathed actual women, and the feeling was entirely mutual, so this was a good fit for him.
The wedding was a veritable who's who of the new aristocracy: Peter Thiel and Elon Musk were of course in attendance, as were Joe Lonsdale, Costin Alamariu, Palmer Luckey, Mark Zuckerberg, and Alex Karp with his dear friend Dr. Albert Bourla. Yair Netanyahu was there, and surely his father would have been too, if it hadn't been for that very unfortunate incident with the extra-large tub of Sabra hummus back in 2025. Even President Peepaw, as he was affectionately known, had made an appearance. It was a mostly male event but a few women had been invited, provided they signed a notarized document requesting that the organizers "pick me, choose me" and attesting under oath that they were not like other girls. Among the lucky ladies were Dasha Nekrasova, albeit wheelchair-bound from decades of ketamine abuse and eating disorders, and Professor Bari Weiss of the University of Austin.
The wedding was held in the storied Bitcoins Square neighborhood of Manhattan (It used to be called Dimes Square but had been renamed since dimes were no longer minted and the dollar had been replaced with bitcoin) The facility was well-staffed due to much of the population having been reduced to abject poverty during the currency upheaval, so that each guest was attended by 4 or 5 servants. They scurried about, responding quickly to the impatient finger-snaps and beckoning gestures of the attendees.
Following the ceremony, Yarvin and his blushing bride found themselves seated at a sumptuous table, surrounded by well-wishers. There was an awkward silence due to the prevalence of social disorders among the guests which was interrupted by Peter Thiel, who rose to make a toast:
" I suppose it was my favorite political theorist, Carl Schmitt, who said it best - "We always live in the eye of the more radical brother", and who is more radical than dear Curtis. It brings me great joy to see him once again entering into holy matrimony. Let us hope that his present spouse will be a bit more longer-lived than her predecessors."
A few giggles erupted from the table and knowing glances were exchanged. Peter continued:
"Curtis, it is such a pleasure to see your prophetic worldview coming to fruition. Slowly but surely, monarchy and true aristocracy are displacing the old corpse of democracy. No longer must we ask for permission from the low IQ plebs for our grand schemes. No longer will we be constrained by the pathetic whims of the so-called people. Now, we have become like gods. When we want fresh young blood, we get it. When we want to do away with nuisances, we do it. When we want herpes vaccines, we get them immediately, no more red tape!"
He winked at Dr Bourla and the old man blushed.
"It is my honor to toast the happy couple. May we all live indefinitely and may parabiosis and 3d printed organs preserve us!"
In the kitchen, the servants were muttering among themselves:
"I hate these fuckers so much, they've ruined all of our lives!"
"Not only our lives, they've ruined the world."
"At least we're still living and not among the countless millions that they killed in cold blood..."
"Is this a life? To slave away for this filth?"
A waiter popped his head in from the dining room,
"What are you doing in here? They can see from your monitoring devices that you're sitting down. At least pretend to work, move around or something!"
"I've got an idea," said the cook, and the group put their heads together as she whispered something to them.
To be continued...
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