Savour the time to ask some non-physical entity to do huge tasks for my own sake. I am not interested in bundled codes doing work for me. What I want is a physical entity like me, one that does what I ask, my way. Why should I pay companies millions to propose something that is not tangible? It is simply a mental entity from my side. I think we are being duped by clever people who are in it for the money. Yet the original premise was to save the world. I wonder—from what exactly? Agentic AI is an AI that basically works for you so you don’t have to. Let’s cut to the truth here. There is no need for verbose English or computer science mumbo jumbo to reach this conclusion. It is an ancient rite of existence: entities build other entities. So far, we are the next entity that was created. Now we are tired and exhausted, so we are paving the way for the next entity after us. We are bound to this process, and no one can escape it. If we fail, we resort to slavery—using other humans for...
Yemoja moved—her feet brushing against the rubble-strewn floor, still coated in dust left behind by an earlier storm.
Akanni retreated, startled by the goddess’s sudden movement.
“I am but a woman,” she said, trembling. “Please, don’t bring harm to me.”
She bowed again, pressing her head to the ground. To her, this act was reverent—a proper show of respect to the gods. But she was mistaken.
Yemoja stepped forward slowly, her voice echoing like a choir of angels.
“Look up,” Yemoja commanded.
Akanni lifted her head, gripped by the fear of the unknown.
“You do not need to tell me who you are. I know. I’m here to answer all your questions.”
“Ase! I am grateful. Very grateful. May you be worshiped forever—”
“Silence!” Yemoja interrupted.
Akanni forced herself to focus on what she was witnessing. She had never seen anything like this—not in her entire life. The physical manifestation of the divine.
In the world she grew up in, the gods were only known through stories passed down through generations. People carved them into figures of wood and stone. Relics were made to remember them—like the necklace around her neck, passed down from her mother, who had received it from a priestess. She also wore bracelets of many shapes and patterns, each depicting the ancient journeys of the gods. Their assumed faces lived only in the minds of devotees.
But amidst the rubble and the broken pillars of a once-holy temple, Yemoja made her forget her surroundings. She gave Akanni something else—something glorious—to look at.
The goddess’s gold necklaces shimmered with every movement. Her head was wrapped in brass and gold, tightly circling and covering her golden hair. Only glimpses of Yemoja’s true form peeked through.
Akanni’s sharp eyes caught the strands of hair—loose, just like human hair. And the goddess’s golden-brown skin was as smooth as a polished vase.
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