In the 17th century, Francis Bacon said: “Knowledge is power.” By knowledge he meant the new empirical knowledge against the “idols of the tribe,” arrived at by looking at the world directly with the eye. The knowledge that will emerge, as if spontaneously out of “facts,” will set mankind free. His vision of future human power was prophetic beyond his wildest imagination (in that respect he is his contemporary Milton’s Satan incarnate against the God of the human tribe) even though—paradoxically and even poetically—his understanding of this new future method was naive with no understanding of the interaction between the humanly subjective and the “objectivity” of facts and the intervening place of mathematics in this process (he was an acoustic revolutionary one might say); the fruit of this Satanic human bargain with facts for power (equating “facts” with knowledge) was technology. Then, as gradually mathematics became the language of the soul, the envoy humanity sent to the world, the acoustic, innocent soul washing its hands off—and like every potent general too far away from the capital, unchecked by any control, aux contraire, celebrated, encouraged and like lazy potentates depended on, in the hands of machines that math itself nursed, achieving its own subversive coup against its creator—like the black slaves on board of Benito Cereno—math entered its own stage of hyper growth called algorithms—the rhythm of infinite machine, infinite repetitions of the same—zero one one zero zero one— With algorithms the human underwent a far more fatal Copernican revolution: it became a cosmic CHESHIRE CAT. As days erode, humanity (that dared to make the Miltonic bargain offering the ardent subjectivity of the soul opening to the world in exchange for control over “facts”) began to disappear into thin, transparent, happy air. Finally, only the rainbow of the smile of the Cheshire Cat remained—hanging there in the air. That remaining (surviving through eon time) smile —the radio waves of times long gone—is the computer machine, in its most pristine form, math imposing the minimalist aesthetics of utter docility and convenience—the wet dream of technology. Is the body of Apple lap top, offering its quotidian lap dance to an infantilized, obedient, endlessly needy tribe of slaves. Mathematics—the well-spring of human adventure and knowledge—incarnated into a [s]tool. The Promethean act of biting the apple in a rebellious act against the creator—to climb up the tree of knowledge for power (that to protect his power god kicked mankind in the ass)—finally resulted—in the evolutionary fate of cosmic rays—in an android replicant—shiny, fresh out of shower, usurping and replacing its creator.