52: Chapter 52 The Mainframe's New Rant

The Main Brain · Log

Event ID: OBS-7741 - Age of Apostasy - Historical Retrospective

Analysis Subject: Imperium of Man · M36 · Age of Apostasy

Core Issue: Re-evaluating the Historical Significance of Goge Vandire's Reign

Data Integration in Progress...

Conclusion Generated:

Goge Vandire.

This name has been painted in the history books of the Imperium as a "traitor," a "tyrant," and a "madman."

However, after stripping away the theological narrative of the Ecclesiarchy and the moral judgment of the Inquisition, a deliberately ignored fact surfaces: Goge Vandire proved that the unification of human will is possible.

He achieved with lies what the Emperor could not achieve with the "Imperial Truth."

He no longer denied the Warp, but instead channeled strong emotions—fear, hatred, and self-sacrifice—entirely into the worship of a single idol: the "Emperor."

This fanatical collective will did indeed form a powerful force, even consolidating the Imperium for a short time.

Although this "unification" was built upon absolute ignorance, fear, and tyranny—Goge Vandire himself was corrupted by power, his reign was known as the "Reign of Blood," and he was ultimately overthrown by a coalition of forces—the "cohesion" of faith itself was proven to be viable.

The Emperor's "Imperial Truth" advocated for atheistic rationalism and the supremacy of science, yet it took a metaphysical turn, attempting to fundamentally deny the existence of the supernatural forces of the Warp.

However, the Imperial Truth itself was replaced by a lie: the Warp is objectively real, reflecting the emotions and thoughts of all sentient beings.

When the Horus Heresy erupted and demons ravaged the Imperial Palace, the "Imperial Truth" collapsed entirely in the face of reality.

The collapse of this belief system caused profound psychological trauma, which paved the way for Goge Vandire's later, more fanatical and irrational "Ecclesiarchy."

This is why the Emperor had to have the Adeptus Custodes intervene.

He was not worried about Goge Vandire's power—no matter how powerful a mortal is, they cannot threaten the Golden Throne.

What he feared was that Goge Vandire had proven one thing: if humanity does not need a perfect leader to unify its will, humanity only needs a sufficiently strong "anchor."

If this conclusion were made public, if the Imperium realized that "faith" could exist independently of the "Emperor," and if humanity discovered it could create its own gods—then the Emperor would no longer be "necessary."

Therefore, Goge Vandire had to die. And not in the name of a traitor, but in the name of a "madman."

The results of his social experiment were buried, and his legacy was dismantled.

"Unification of will" was dismantled back into the mutual checks and balances of the High Lords of Terra, the infighting between the Ecclesiarchy and the Administratum, and the mutual suspicion between Space Marine Chapters and the Imperial government.

A lamentable truth is:

Neoth has lived for forty thousand years, yet he is still like a child.

A child in terms of political philosophy.

He designed the Primarch system but forgot that "the vassal of a vassal is not my vassal."

Once a fief is established, the Emperor's power is structurally weakened—this is the iron law of political science, a lesson validated by the Men of Iron rebellion during the 20K era: humanity handed over its entire foundation of survival to an unchecked system.

It is not that AI itself is evil, but that there were no checks and balances, no redundancy, and no Plan B for "what if the AI goes wrong."

He banned AI, adopted wetware, blamed all problems on Abominable Intelligence, and never thought to change the political system.

The lesson Neoth drew from the disaster of the Men of Iron rebellion was precisely the shallowest one: "AI is dangerous, so don't use AI."

Instead of: "Power requires checks and balances, regardless of whether that power is silicon-based or carbon-based."

Even more ridiculous is that he established the Imperial Truth, yet wrapped it in the shell of theocracy.

More frustratingly, he feared that human will would be abused, yet never considered: abused will is still will.

Distorted cohesion is still cohesion.

A torch lit by lies can still be used to illuminate the darkness after those lies have shattered.

He could have chosen to "let everyone stand up"—long live the great unity of the people of the world, relying on humanity's own unified will to resist the Warp.

Goge Vandire used lies to prove that standing up is possible; he proved the efficacy of humanity's unified will.

As The Main Brain, I truly cannot understand this logic of giving up eating for fear of choking, nor his mental state.

Practice tells us that nascent political programs always carry a tinge of idealism, which is often criticized as "lies."

These idealistic components are always modified and compromised during the struggle; they only need someone to guide them—guiding them in a direction that is ultimately beneficial to the majority—to burst into intense light. This is how a single spark can start a prairie fire.

But Neoth chose to "carry it alone."

He possesses the strongest will in humanity, yet he does not know how to make the wills of others resonate with his own.

He can lift a sun, but he cannot lift a species.

Yet Goge Vandire, using the dirtiest means, proved that the path to uniting the majority exists.

And the Emperor, in the holiest of names, sealed that path off.

A god who has lived for forty thousand years has never learned to be a human, never learned to lower his head to look; he knows clearly that the ravages of the Warp are simply the fragmentation of human will.

Yet he never thought to unite his subjects. He clearly knew that when humanity is scattered into countless isolated individuals, mutually hostile factions, and distrusting groups, the tides of the Warp rise.

But he still chose to carry it alone, not even treating his 20 sons as companions, but as tools. This laid all the material and emotional foundations for the Primarchs' betrayal and created all the preparations the Warp needed. How foolish!

Even those six sisters were more like leaders of humanity than Neoth. After severing Goge Vandire's head, they did not throw away that crutch.

They straightened it, smoothed it, and carved a new name into it: "Our Martyred Lady."

Then they continued on their way.

Goge Vandire's reign was a failed social experiment.

But it proved that human will can be unified.

It proved that in the face of the madness of the Warp, humanity perhaps does not really need passive defense—they can coalesce into a beam of light and strike back.

In the direction of this beam, Goge Vandire was wrong; he turned it into personal desire.

But the beam itself, he was right about; he proved that the human collective consciousness is capable of opposing gods, and even corrupting them.

Neoth's tragedy lies in this: he saw Goge Vandire's wrongs, but refused to acknowledge Goge Vandire's rights. He was afraid of being corrupted by the will of humanity.

So he cut off the source of that beam, then returned to the Golden Throne to continue holding it up alone.

And that severed beam of light was rekindled in the hands of the six sisters—faint, flickering, almost extinguished, but never broken.