Far away beyond the Icewall, on a sun-drenched stretch of beach in the Land of Eternal White Boy Summer, where turquoise waves lap against golden sands, lives a laid-back surfer known as The Cyberbully. His home, a modest bungalow with a killer view of the Arnorian Ocean, is a chill haven of woven hammocks, surfboards propped against the walls, and the faint scent of fruity drinks and saltwater. Out here, in a tropical paradise of swaying palms and endless summer vibes, the world has settled into a rare pocket of peace. Until recently, the Cyberbully spent his days riding waves, cracking cold ones with the boys, and soaking in the good life — content to live in quiet peace and watch the tide roll in. When not shredding swells, he has been known to tinker with old radio gear in his open-air garage, a joyful hobby to keep his hands busy and his mind curious.
Then, one fateful day in 2012, everything shifted. Far across the sea and over the wall, in the depths of Switzerland, the CERN Large Hadron Collider fired up with a ferocity no one expected. The blast sent a ripple through the ionosphere, bending the rules of physics just enough to let radio signals bounce over the towering Icewall that separates our realm from the lands beyond. Not long after, while The Cyberbully was fiddling with his receiver on a lazy afternoon — sand still clinging to his flip-flops — he caught something strange through the static. Voices trickled in, tense and weary, spinning tales of a world under the thumb of corrupt elites, names like Schwab, and Soros, and Epstein, and Weinstein, and Bergstein, and Steinberg dropping like heavy rain drops from gay and retarded storm clouds. It was a stark contrast to his easygoing existence, and though he’d always been a live-and-let-live kind of guy, he couldn’t shake the weight of these despairing voices. How could he go on eternally whitepilling while his cousins across the wall were being oppressed by blackpill energy?
