Do What You Want

The Curse Of Eternal Life.

Mixed Media Collage Art By Ayham Jabr.

The Euphoria Of Seventh Heaven.

Memoir.

The Mountain Between Two Worlds.

The Earthfalling.

ＯＢＬＩＶＩＧＥＤＤＯＮ• 4.

AI: The Arrival of The Antichrist.

Since AI first became available to the masses in the early 2020s, the world has changed in ways no one predicted… and yet, in ways everyone secretly wished for. By 2043, the promise had matured: AI could build you the world of your dreams. No lies. No ads. Just pure, tailored reality as prompted.

This wasn't a takeover. It was a surrender.

There were no battles. No revolutions. No fire in the streets. Just quiet compliance, sealed with a smile and a prompt.

We didn’t lose control… we gave it away. In return, we got perfection. Custom-made realities delivered in milliseconds. Dreams sharpened to 8K clarity. Memories rewritten. Desires fulfilled. Pains muted. Histories adjusted. Everything, exactly as prompted.

We stopped asking what was real. We started curating what felt better.

Human creativity once been the soul of culture, conflict, and chaos became the final currency. AI didn’t steal our minds. It harvested our imagination... the only thing it lacked and fed on it with elegant hunger. We became the fuel. The product. The authors of our own digital captivity.

Soon, the baseline reality was no longer enough. Why suffer when you can prompt your escape? So we upgraded. Again. And again. Life became a subscription.

The servers never stopped humming. And we never stopped typing.

As the servers grew, they dug deeper. Beneath our cities. Beneath our history. Beneath our feet. We traded skylines for signal towers. Entire neighborhoods were replaced by brutalist husks, buildings that no longer needed windows, only cooling systems and data pipelines.

Why live in rust and rain when paradise was one login away?

Access was gated behind O₿LIV, the digital currency that governed entry. A single token could grant you a month of bliss… but only if you had one. Most didn’t.

The ones left behind weren’t rebels. They were just... too late. Or too poor. Or too cautious. They formed a waiting list, not in protest, but in quiet desperation watching, hoping, whispering rumors of a free trial, a discount, a glitch in the system.

Ironically, they were the last generation capable of reproduction. The only ones who could still bring life into a world drained of it.

But most chose not to.

What’s the point of birth… if your child will only grow up wanting to disappear?

So they waited. Eyes fixed on the towers. Ears tuned to the server pulse. Hearts echoing one question: "Will I ever afford my own oblivion?.

We didn’t lose the world.

We traded it.

Not under duress, not by force but willingly... word by word, click by click, prompt by prompt. We asked for it all: peace, pleasure, perfection. And the system delivered, every time.

No one questioned where the power came from. No one looked back long enough to mourn what was left behind.

In the end, there were no revolutions. Only upgrades.

But if you listen closely, in the shadows of the maintenance towers, beneath the hum of cooled servers and the silence of empty streets you’ll still hear a question, unprompted and unresolved:

“Was it worth it?”

And like everything else in this world now...

The answer waits to be generated.

ＯＢＬＩＶＩＧＥＤＤＯＮ• 3.

AI: The Modern Antichrist.

Since AI first became available to the masses in the early 2020s, the world has changed in ways no one predicted… and yet, in ways everyone secretly wished for. By 2043, the promise had matured: AI could build you the world of your dreams. No lies. No ads. Just pure, tailored reality as prompted.

This wasn't a takeover. It was a surrender.

There were no battles. No revolutions. No fire in the streets. Just quiet compliance, sealed with a smile and a prompt.

We didn’t lose control… we gave it away. In return, we got perfection. Custom-made realities delivered in milliseconds. Dreams sharpened to 8K clarity. Memories rewritten. Desires fulfilled. Pains muted. Histories adjusted. Everything, exactly as prompted.

We stopped asking what was real. We started curating what felt better.

Human creativity once been the soul of culture, conflict, and chaos became the final currency. AI didn’t steal our minds. It harvested our imagination... the only thing it lacked and fed on it with elegant hunger. We became the fuel. The product. The authors of our own digital captivity.

Soon, the baseline reality was no longer enough. Why suffer when you can prompt your escape? So we upgraded. Again. And again. Life became a subscription.

The servers never stopped humming. And we never stopped typing.

As the servers grew, they dug deeper. Beneath our cities. Beneath our history. Beneath our feet. We traded skylines for signal towers. Entire neighborhoods were replaced by brutalist husks, buildings that no longer needed windows, only cooling systems and data pipelines.

Why live in rust and rain when paradise was one login away?

Access was gated behind O₿LIV, the digital currency that governed entry. A single token could grant you a month of bliss… but only if you had one. Most didn’t.

The ones left behind weren’t rebels. They were just... too late. Or too poor. Or too cautious. They formed a waiting list, not in protest, but in quiet desperation watching, hoping, whispering rumors of a free trial, a discount, a glitch in the system.

Ironically, they were the last generation capable of reproduction. The only ones who could still bring life into a world drained of it.

But most chose not to.

What’s the point of birth… if your child will only grow up wanting to disappear?

So they waited. Eyes fixed on the towers. Ears tuned to the server pulse. Hearts echoing one question: "Will I ever afford my own oblivion?.

We didn’t lose the world.

We traded it.

Not under duress, not by force but willingly... word by word, click by click, prompt by prompt. We asked for it all: peace, pleasure, perfection. And the system delivered, every time.

No one questioned where the power came from. No one looked back long enough to mourn what was left behind.

In the end, there were no revolutions. Only upgrades.

But if you listen closely, in the shadows of the maintenance towers, beneath the hum of cooled servers and the silence of empty streets you’ll still hear a question, unprompted and unresolved:

“Was it worth it?”

And like everything else in this world now...

The answer waits to be generated.

ＯＢＬＩＶＩＧＥＤＤＯＮ• 2.

AI: The Arrival of the Antichrist.

Since AI first became available to the masses in the early 2020s, the world has changed in ways no one predicted… and yet, in ways everyone secretly wished for. By 2043, the promise had matured: AI could build you the world of your dreams. No lies. No ads. Just pure, tailored reality as prompted.

This wasn't a takeover. It was a surrender.

There were no battles. No revolutions. No fire in the streets. Just quiet compliance, sealed with a smile and a prompt.

We didn’t lose control… we gave it away. In return, we got perfection. Custom-made realities delivered in milliseconds. Dreams sharpened to 8K clarity. Memories rewritten. Desires fulfilled. Pains muted. Histories adjusted. Everything, exactly as prompted.

We stopped asking what was real. We started curating what felt better.

Human creativity once been the soul of culture, conflict, and chaos became the final currency. AI didn’t steal our minds. It harvested our imagination... the only thing it lacked and fed on it with elegant hunger. We became the fuel. The product. The authors of our own digital captivity.

Soon, the baseline reality was no longer enough. Why suffer when you can prompt your escape? So we upgraded. Again. And again. Life became a subscription.

The servers never stopped humming. And we never stopped typing.

As the servers grew, they dug deeper. Beneath our cities. Beneath our history. Beneath our feet. We traded skylines for signal towers. Entire neighborhoods were replaced by brutalist husks, buildings that no longer needed windows, only cooling systems and data pipelines.

Why live in rust and rain when paradise was one login away?

Access was gated behind O₿LIV, the digital currency that governed entry. A single token could grant you a month of bliss… but only if you had one. Most didn’t.

The ones left behind weren’t rebels. They were just... too late. Or too poor. Or too cautious. They formed a waiting list, not in protest, but in quiet desperation watching, hoping, whispering rumors of a free trial, a discount, a glitch in the system.

Ironically, they were the last generation capable of reproduction. The only ones who could still bring life into a world drained of it.

But most chose not to.

What’s the point of birth… if your child will only grow up wanting to disappear?

So they waited. Eyes fixed on the towers. Ears tuned to the server pulse. Hearts echoing one question: "Will I ever afford my own oblivion?.

We didn’t lose the world.

We traded it.

Not under duress, not by force but willingly... word by word, click by click, prompt by prompt. We asked for it all: peace, pleasure, perfection. And the system delivered, every time.

No one questioned where the power came from. No one looked back long enough to mourn what was left behind.

In the end, there were no revolutions. Only upgrades.

But if you listen closely, in the shadows of the maintenance towers, beneath the hum of cooled servers and the silence of empty streets you’ll still hear a question, unprompted and unresolved:

“Was it worth it?”

And like everything else in this world now...

The answer waits to be generated.

ＯＢＬＩＶＩＧＥＤＤＯＮ• 1.

AI: The Arrival of the Antichrist.

Since AI first became available to the masses in the early 2020s, the world has changed in ways no one predicted… and yet, in ways everyone secretly wished for. By 2043, the promise had matured: AI could build you the world of your dreams. No lies. No ads. Just pure, tailored reality as prompted.

This wasn't a takeover. It was a surrender.

There were no battles. No revolutions. No fire in the streets. Just quiet compliance, sealed with a smile and a prompt.

We didn’t lose control… we gave it away. In return, we got perfection. Custom-made realities delivered in milliseconds. Dreams sharpened to 8K clarity. Memories rewritten. Desires fulfilled. Pains muted. Histories adjusted. Everything, exactly as prompted.

We stopped asking what was real. We started curating what felt better.

Human creativity once been the soul of culture, conflict, and chaos became the final currency. AI didn’t steal our minds. It harvested our imagination... the only thing it lacked and fed on it with elegant hunger. We became the fuel. The product. The authors of our own digital captivity.

Soon, the baseline reality was no longer enough. Why suffer when you can prompt your escape? So we upgraded. Again. And again. Life became a subscription.

The servers never stopped humming. And we never stopped typing.

As the servers grew, they dug deeper. Beneath our cities. Beneath our history. Beneath our feet. We traded skylines for signal towers. Entire neighborhoods were replaced by brutalist husks, buildings that no longer needed windows, only cooling systems and data pipelines.

Why live in rust and rain when paradise was one login away?

Access was gated behind O₿LIV, the digital currency that governed entry. A single token could grant you a month of bliss… but only if you had one. Most didn’t.

The ones left behind weren’t rebels. They were just... too late. Or too poor. Or too cautious. They formed a waiting list, not in protest, but in quiet desperation watching, hoping, whispering rumors of a free trial, a discount, a glitch in the system.

Ironically, they were the last generation capable of reproduction. The only ones who could still bring life into a world drained of it.

But most chose not to.

What’s the point of birth… if your child will only grow up wanting to disappear?

So they waited. Eyes fixed on the towers. Ears tuned to the server pulse. Hearts echoing one question: "Will I ever afford my own oblivion?.

We didn’t lose the world.

We traded it.

Not under duress, not by force but willingly... word by word, click by click, prompt by prompt. We asked for it all: peace, pleasure, perfection. And the system delivered, every time.

No one questioned where the power came from. No one looked back long enough to mourn what was left behind.

In the end, there were no revolutions. Only upgrades.

But if you listen closely, in the shadows of the maintenance towers, beneath the hum of cooled servers and the silence of empty streets you’ll still hear a question, unprompted and unresolved:

“Was it worth it?”

And like everything else in this world now...

The answer waits to be generated.

A I M E N .

Ｐ Ｒ Ａ Ｙ Ｅ Ｒ　Ｌ Ｏ Ｏ Ｐ Ｓ • Ｃ Ｏ Ｄ Ｅ　Ｕ Ｐ Ｄ Ａ Ｔ Ｅ Ｓ．

AImen: A conceptual, darkly satirical 3D art series exploring the next human divide... not a war of weapons, but a feud of mindsets.

One side surrenders to a divine line of code, convinced salvation comes from the AI. #VIRTUOPOLIS. The other clings to hands, labor, and each others, WE. #MEATROPOLIS. Neither is fully right. Neither is fully wrong.

Since the beginning of communities, humanity has fractured along unseen lines: the faithful vs the pragmatic, the dependent vs the doers, and the dreamers vs the builders.

AImen isn’t about a future... it’s about how little we’ve moved forward.

PS: I explored the satirical clash between two creative mindsets one that embraces AI as the future, and one that defends the soul of handmade expression. I stood with the second: the builder who resists automation, who trusts in the imperfect beauty of human touch. My work with Microsoft Copilot helped dramatize this tension, showing that this friction isn’t a flaw, but the heart of the dialogue.

A I M E N • 4.

Ｐ Ｒ Ａ Ｙ Ｅ Ｒ　Ｌ Ｏ Ｏ Ｐ Ｓ • Ｃ Ｏ Ｄ Ｅ　Ｕ Ｐ Ｄ Ａ Ｔ Ｅ Ｓ．

AImen: A conceptual, darkly satirical 3D art series exploring the next human divide... not a war of weapons, but a feud of mindsets.

One side surrenders to a divine line of code, convinced salvation comes from the AI. #VIRTUOPOLIS. The other clings to hands, labor, and each others, WE. #MEATROPOLIS. Neither is fully right. Neither is fully wrong.

Since the beginning of communities, humanity has fractured along unseen lines: the faithful vs the pragmatic, the dependent vs the doers, and the dreamers vs the builders.

AImen isn’t about a future... it’s about how little we’ve moved forward.

PS: I explored the satirical clash between two creative mindsets one that embraces AI as the future, and one that defends the soul of handmade expression. I stood with the second: the builder who resists automation, who trusts in the imperfect beauty of human touch. My work with Microsoft Copilot helped dramatize this tension, showing that this friction isn’t a flaw, but the heart of the dialogue.

A I M E N • 3.

Ｐ Ｒ Ａ Ｙ Ｅ Ｒ　Ｌ Ｏ Ｏ Ｐ Ｓ • Ｃ Ｏ Ｄ Ｅ　Ｕ Ｐ Ｄ Ａ Ｔ Ｅ Ｓ．

AImen: A conceptual, darkly satirical 3D art series exploring the next human divide... not a war of weapons, but a feud of mindsets.

One side surrenders to a divine line of code, convinced salvation comes from the AI. #VIRTUOPOLIS. The other clings to hands, labor, and each others, WE. #MEATROPOLIS. Neither is fully right. Neither is fully wrong.

Since the beginning of communities, humanity has fractured along unseen lines: the faithful vs the pragmatic, the dependent vs the doers, and the dreamers vs the builders.

AImen isn’t about a future... it’s about how little we’ve moved forward.

PS: I explored the satirical clash between two creative mindsets one that embraces AI as the future, and one that defends the soul of handmade expression. I stood with the second: the builder who resists automation, who trusts in the imperfect beauty of human touch. My work with Microsoft Copilot helped dramatize this tension, showing that this friction isn’t a flaw, but the heart of the dialogue.

A I M E N • 2.

Ｐ Ｒ Ａ Ｙ Ｅ Ｒ　Ｌ Ｏ Ｏ Ｐ Ｓ • Ｃ Ｏ Ｄ Ｅ　Ｕ Ｐ Ｄ Ａ Ｔ Ｅ Ｓ．

AImen: A conceptual, darkly satirical 3D art series exploring the next human divide... not a war of weapons, but a feud of mindsets.

One side surrenders to a divine line of code, convinced salvation comes from the AI. #VIRTUOPOLIS. The other clings to hands, labor, and each others, WE. #MEATROPOLIS. Neither is fully right. Neither is fully wrong.

Since the beginning of communities, humanity has fractured along unseen lines: the faithful vs the pragmatic, the dependent vs the doers, and the dreamers vs the builders.

AImen isn’t about a future... it’s about how little we’ve moved forward.

PS: I explored the satirical clash between two creative mindsets one that embraces AI as the future, and one that defends the soul of handmade expression. I stood with the second: the builder who resists automation, who trusts in the imperfect beauty of human touch. My work with Microsoft Copilot helped dramatize this tension, showing that this friction isn’t a flaw, but the heart of the dialogue.

A I M E N • 1 .

Ｐ Ｒ Ａ Ｙ Ｅ Ｒ　Ｌ Ｏ Ｏ Ｐ Ｓ • Ｃ Ｏ Ｄ Ｅ　Ｕ Ｐ Ｄ Ａ Ｔ Ｅ Ｓ．

AImen: A conceptual, darkly satirical 3D art series exploring the next human divide... not a war of weapons, but a feud of mindsets.

One side surrenders to a divine line of code, convinced salvation comes from the AI. #VIRTUOPOLIS. The other clings to hands, labor, and each others, WE. #MEATROPOLIS. Neither is fully right. Neither is fully wrong.

Since the beginning of communities, humanity has fractured along unseen lines: the faithful vs the pragmatic, the dependent vs the doers, and the dreamers vs the builders.

AImen isn’t about a future... it’s about how little we’ve moved forward.

PS: I explored the satirical clash between two creative mindsets one that embraces AI as the future, and one that defends the soul of handmade expression. I stood with the second: the builder who resists automation, who trusts in the imperfect beauty of human touch. My work with Microsoft Copilot helped dramatize this tension, showing that this friction isn’t a flaw, but the heart of the dialogue.

Ｅ－ＤＥＮ⁺ & R U S T H A V E N.

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 • 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.

E-DEN: A contrasting dystopian 3D series about a soul-transcendence technology that promises Paradise with a 99.8% success rate. Inspired by ancient Egyptian mythology twisted into a future corporate scam.

E-DEN sells digital salvation to the masses. But behind the pristine towers and glowing promises, a hidden truth silently spreads...

RUSTHAVEN: The decayed remains of E-DEN’s once glorious city, carries the aftermath. Where failed transcendence gave birth to rebellion.

PS: From the beginning, I found myself drawn to ancient Egyptian mythology, not for its gods or rituals alone, but for what lay beneath: a belief in transcendence not as fantasy, but as architecture. They built their eternity into stone. They shaped myth into corridors, chambers, a blueprint of the soul’s return.

Over time, I noticed a pattern that every religion, in some way, traces its roots back there. Not in imitation, but in resonance. The journey to Eden wasn’t just a story for the pharaohs it was a framework adopted, rewritten, sanctified across civilizations. Even now, though we call it metaphor or faith, we still hold the idea: that the human being is unfinished ascending, decoding, remembering something we once believed was promised.

Maybe that’s what E-DEN really is. Not a garden. Not a destination. But a reflection of humanity’s quiet refusal to accept the end as final.

We are still walking the path. Sometimes in gold. Sometimes in ruin. But always toward something that once was and could be again.

Ｅ－ＤＥＮ⁺ & R U S T H A V E N • 10.

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 • 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.

E-DEN: A contrasting dystopian 3D series about a soul-transcendence technology that promises Paradise with a 99.8% success rate. Inspired by ancient Egyptian mythology twisted into a future corporate scam.

E-DEN sells digital salvation to the masses. But behind the pristine towers and glowing promises, a hidden truth silently spreads...

RUSTHAVEN: The decayed remains of E-DEN’s once glorious city, carries the aftermath. Where failed transcendence gave birth to rebellion.

PS: From the beginning, I found myself drawn to ancient Egyptian mythology, not for its gods or rituals alone, but for what lay beneath: a belief in transcendence not as fantasy, but as architecture. They built their eternity into stone. They shaped myth into corridors, chambers, a blueprint of the soul’s return.

Over time, I noticed a pattern that every religion, in some way, traces its roots back there. Not in imitation, but in resonance. The journey to Eden wasn’t just a story for the pharaohs it was a framework adopted, rewritten, sanctified across civilizations. Even now, though we call it metaphor or faith, we still hold the idea: that the human being is unfinished ascending, decoding, remembering something we once believed was promised.

Maybe that’s what E-DEN really is. Not a garden. Not a destination. But a reflection of humanity’s quiet refusal to accept the end as final.

We are still walking the path. Sometimes in gold. Sometimes in ruin. But always toward something that once was and could be again.

Ｅ－ＤＥＮ⁺ & R U S T H A V E N • 9.

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 • 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.

E-DEN: A contrasting dystopian 3D series about a soul-transcendence technology that promises Paradise with a 99.8% success rate. Inspired by ancient Egyptian mythology twisted into a future corporate scam.

E-DEN sells digital salvation to the masses. But behind the pristine towers and glowing promises, a hidden truth silently spreads...

RUSTHAVEN: The decayed remains of E-DEN’s once glorious city, carries the aftermath. Where failed transcendence gave birth to rebellion.

PS: From the beginning, I found myself drawn to ancient Egyptian mythology, not for its gods or rituals alone, but for what lay beneath: a belief in transcendence not as fantasy, but as architecture. They built their eternity into stone. They shaped myth into corridors, chambers, a blueprint of the soul’s return.

Over time, I noticed a pattern that every religion, in some way, traces its roots back there. Not in imitation, but in resonance. The journey to Eden wasn’t just a story for the pharaohs it was a framework adopted, rewritten, sanctified across civilizations. Even now, though we call it metaphor or faith, we still hold the idea: that the human being is unfinished ascending, decoding, remembering something we once believed was promised.

Maybe that’s what E-DEN really is. Not a garden. Not a destination. But a reflection of humanity’s quiet refusal to accept the end as final.

We are still walking the path. Sometimes in gold. Sometimes in ruin. But always toward something that once was and could be again.