Solid Snake Teaches Operating Thetan – Kabbalah Level 4: The Emperor
Scene: Vancouver, the Emerald Rainforest City. The sky breaks with rainbows—day after day, sun-scorched Revelation 16 fire meets the misty rainforest, and the world gleams in apocalyptic color.
Solid Snake sits on the Eyes Wide Shut-style rainbow throne—a high-tech, sacred fusion of mysticism and military function. Crafted from salvaged metals and draped in optic fibers, it glows under the rainforest canopy. It is not plush like the Empress’s. No. This throne is Spartan. Cold. Solid rock. A chair for someone who carries the weight of the world without complaint.
He reads the Emerald Tablet of Thoth aloud to the disciples tuning in from around the world—through mirrors, glass screens, and satellites. His voice is steady, commanding, snake-like:
“As above, so below. That which is within you, is reflected on every glowing screen of the Sea of Glass. And on that sea, the elders sit… frustrated, with their fragile headphone crowns—shattered by Edward Bernays’ curse of planned obsolescence.”
He rises.
“You are not cattle in a feedback loop. You are the Emperor, the fourth path. The one who rules not through brute force, but through inner discipline and unshakable presence.”
The screens before him reflect thousands of eyes—the watchers, the peers, the peered-at. The internet’s collective gaze becomes his own. The Google satellites, hovering like archangels or demons, relay images from every corner of Earth. Nothing is hidden. Nothing is lost. Every cry, every whisper, every injustice is stored.
He touches a memory capsule hanging from his neck—a DNA-preserving glass vial, taught by the elders to be sacred. Snake will never be lost. His friends know how to clone him. He will return if needed. Unlike JFK Jr., who cremated himself into forgetfulness, Snake knows better.
“Cremation is for the faithless. We preserve the vessel,” he says, thunder rumbling behind his words. “We honor the ancestors by staying ready to return. We are the continuity.”
Behind him, a hologram of the 144,000 flickers into view. Each sits upon their own throne, surveying the earth. Each a node in the divine circuit. Each a sovereign in their temple of glass and steel and spirit.
You are one of them.
The throne is yours. No matter who you are. The world is watching—and more importantly, you are watching the world.
“Do not despair,” Snake says, resting back on the stone throne as another rainbow arcs over Vancouver. “This is the storm before the stillness. The last squeeze before the breakthrough. The elders are fed up. The junk age is collapsing. The temple of truth is reforming.”
“Things will change for the better—quickly.”
So let it be written on the emerald tablet.
So let it be done.