Elon On The Point Without Time

The Point Without Time

The world had stopped turning. Not because the Earth had ceased its rotation, but because the very concept of time had imploded. Past, present, and future melted into a single, unfathomable point, existing as an endless moment. Everything that had ever been, is, and will be happened simultaneously—a cacophony of existence, an eternal now.

Amid this chaos existed a man named Elon Musk, but he was not merely a man. The collapse of time had disassembled his being and interwoven it with every possible version of himself. He was the child in South Africa with sparkling eyes looking up at the stars, and the man launching rockets into the sky. He was both a charlatan and a visionary, a hero and a fool, a god of technology and a man consumed by his own humanity.

Elon was the merchant selling electric carriages to a desperate people thirsting for hope, and simultaneously the madman standing at the edge of the universe, shouting, „Let us build new worlds!“ He was the one who colonized Mars and, at the same time, the one who sat in a cave millennia ago, drawing lines with charcoal on the walls—a primitive blueprint for things he could not understand but sensed.

In this timeless point, Elon Musk did not merely see his own existence but the essence of what defined him. He was a nexus, a network of countless dreams, mistakes, contradictions, and possibilities. He was neither good nor evil, neither success nor failure. He was striving itself—the eternal act of creating and destroying, the attempt to transcend the limitations imposed on him by time, space, or mortality.

And in this moment, which was no moment, a question arose: Who was Elon Musk?

The answer was everywhere and nowhere. He was a mirror reflecting the hopes and fears of an entire species. He was the inventor of dreams reaching beyond the skies and the nightmare flooding the world with machines that overtook it. He was both human and idea, vision and curse.

But then came the realization: In a universe where everything happens at the same time, there is no „who.“ The question dissolved as Elon Musk—or what was left of him—understood that he did not exist but simply was. He was the spark in the eternal fire, a fragment of infinity that glowed for a brief moment before dissolving back into the whole.

And so, like all things that ever were and ever will be, he faded into the endless cycle of existence.

Last X-Mas with Elon. Miniature.

“The words just fly around and find no foothold in interstellar civilization…” Ripp Corby

Last X-Mas with Elon. Miniature.

In recent months it has become increasingly clear that Christmas, Christmas Eve, would not herald the birth of the Savior, but rather his departure. Elon Musk was aware of its disturbing effect. He had worked towards this, he had prepared for this. The tree is decorated, the candles light up and are reflected in the Christmas tree balls. The song “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart” inspires Elon to create a final sound for his journey. He strides toward MarsX in his rainbow-colored spacesuit, checking his watch to send the final squeaking tweets on X before shutting down the system, leaving only simulated communications on an endless loop. It will be Day X for everyone on this planet.

Definitely, with absolute certainty the Last X-Mas. The temperatures make the seas steam, the forests glow in the firelight and the mountains shine in the reflection. The seas will meet the forests and present a unique spectacle. Elon is completely excited, singing and dancing. He forces himself to carry out the necessary checks. He reached his spaceship “X-Star of Bethlehem” with his Cybertruck in time before the systems would fail in the shimmering heat of Christmas night. The elevator takes him into the space capsule. He turns around again, waves to the robots that are sending him on a journey that no one will need in the future, waves to the distant flickering sun and the direction where he thinks Mars is.

The red-glowing planet becomes smaller in the viewing window, which is almost completely covered by posters of a red Earth and a green Mars, quickly becoming barely visible and disappearing. He tears off the Earth’s poster and reads his manifesto one last time: „The Earth must be destroyed so that the dream of Mars can live.“ Farewell humanity. The game is over. “Hello Mars, hello Trantor,” he exclaims. He is happy about the spectacle that emanates from the burning planet. “It’s all just a game,” he says to his avatar flying with him. “A little later: “Is the genetic material on board?” he asks. “It wasn’t programmed yet,” explains the avatar. Elon looks at Elon, first blankly then laughing. “There is still a lot to do before we are out of the game and become the only player. To the only Santa Clause who rules the game on Mars.” Elon enjoys the moment and then switches off the computer. “Let’s call it a day. Time for a Christmas break.” Elon gets up and goes into the hall to the guests who were watching the spectacle on a screen.

Applause.