Mother Ceres — Chapter 1

Mother Ceres

We see a world that is constantly at war; peace is just an accident.
Peace is a sweet illusion, but superficial in the face of survival. Some say we live in war. Others say we do not. There are even those who claim we are at war just to have a war — in the name of power, greed, importance — because, deep down, we are insignificant.

Greater than love is fear.
Everyone is afraid. Love is a fragile construct, built from solid relationships, belonging, giving more than receiving — but fear demands nothing; it is already in all of us.

Greater than fear is madness.
When a cornered rat attacks the cat, it is because it has already gone mad. When we change our core in the face of difficulty, we can lose everything — but we also lose the fear of death. That is the good fight.

Greater than madness is humor.
We laugh because we have already lost everything. In laughter, we leave behind fear, madness, and even love.

But greater than humor is instinct: survival.
Like wild animals, we do not know when we will die. We do not know what will come. And that is why we hunt every prey as if it were the last — because our lives depend on it.

And that is how I was born.
I am Mother Ceres.
The city was not born from a dream, but from a womb — damp, tight, merciless.
I am the will of the liver and the mad reason of the brain. I am passion. I am devotion. I am the supreme understanding of life: how to tame the human spirit even when it still sparks.

I understood what no other ideology dared to comprehend. I discovered the greatest truth in every realized utopia: that humans do not want to be free.
Freedom is the enemy.
And I am the most loyal friend you will ever have.

The city of Ceres emerged thus: from the ashes of Arcadia, the city of hatred, greed, and the absent god.
There, you were trash. Humiliated slaves. Crumbs on the table of tyrants.
Then you came to me — your exodus through the fertile valleys and mountains.
I chose you not for your virtues, but for your scars.

Ceres was abandoned land, with no gold, no silver. But I do not need gold or silver — I need blood, seeds, obedience.
Here, I promise that none of you will be forgotten. I promise that none of you will die without having fought for me. I promise that none of you will live believing you deserve more than you already have.
And every promise I make, I keep.
Not out of love.
But because you belong to me.

When you look at me, in my white dress, my wide skirt covering my feet — as if I float — and my fine, immaculate gloves, remember: my crystal crown does not reflect what I am. It reflects you.
Because what you see in me is not me.
It is only what you already were, even before you were born.
And so, under my shadow, you remain.
Faithful. Fearful. Mad. Laughing. Survivors.

And I smile. Because you amuse me.
And I laugh. Because you belong to me.
And I will never, ever, let you be free.

— Our lands were not fit for a construction… they were only cold stone and a shallow river cutting through the darkness. Nothing flourished there except silence and despair.

Civilizations of the world advanced in science, arts, wars… and soon destroyed themselves, always victims of themselves. Then came the miracle — not of a god, but of pragmatic men who ruled the dictatorial nations of the world.

They offered us a destiny: to be neutral, without a past, without flags other than mine. We would gather resources, collect lives and seeds, and allow the rest of the world to bleed and rebuild. In silence. In obedience.

And I accepted. Because I saw — I always saw — what you, my children, could not yet see.
It was there that we found the solution to everything.

Ceres rose in a valley surrounded by eternally white mountains. Snow at the peaks, warmth in the womb. A meteor, centuries ago, had carved this land, making it impenetrable to eyes and armies.
They said this land was cursed. Well… I made this curse our protection.

A valley of 728.8 km², plus 1,715.4 km² to the east, the most vulnerable part, where the superstition of the ancients still lingered — “a cursed soil.” It doesn’t matter. I made it fertile. Protected by nature. Tamed by my hands.

We evolved. We did not just build a city… we sculpted it. Concrete and steel replaced the weak flesh of men. Black marble so we would never forget that the purity of stone is worth more than the purity of the soul.

And, at the heart of the valley, I built my tower. 1,500 meters of vigilance. Two intertwined circular forms and, in the center, the straight axis of my dark vision, looking at you — my toys, my soldiers, my children.
I always see you.

Here there are no monuments to heroes or villains.
Here there is no past — so that there is never betrayal.
Here there is only the future. And it is mine.

In the fertile lands near the mountains, milk and honey flow to feed you like lambs. Animal husbandry for sustenance. Abundant agriculture to ensure nothing is lacking.

And it was not enough. I wanted more.
We advanced in science. In medicine. We eradicated 95% of the communicable and infectious diseases that plagued the wretched of the old world.
We invented armored trains to cross the snow and negotiate with the men outside — men who still dream of peace and stumble into war.
We created reliable banks transmitting credit by radio — faster, safer than the word of a man.
And we became prosperous.

They envy us.
They fear us.
Because here, with me, you learned the great truth: the world is constantly at war.
Peace… ah… peace is just an accident.
And you, my children, learned to love the accident… but to honor the war.

Here there are no heroes, no gods, no promises to fulfill.
I do not leave you with nothing. I give you everything.
I keep every promise.
I am the womb that bore you.
The will of the liver that inflames you.
The — insane — reason of the brain that governs you.
I am the passion you do not dare to question.
I am survival made system.
I am what all human ideologies ever dreamed of being… but never were capable of achieving.

I am Ceres.
And you, my children, are my army. My dogs. My toys.
Shine for me. Die for me.
I, Mother Ceres, never forget. Never.
Nor forgive weakness.

Voice of Mother Ceres — I am Ceres
Other countries have their cultures… their religions… their fragile, imaginary gods.
They believe in supposedly wise silences… they are poets of shame, verses of a defeat they dare not admit.
If those gods exist… they fled from here.
Because only I remained.

I give you food. A home. Hot baths when the snow outside tears your flesh. I give education. I give knowledge. I give continuity to our species as no god ever dared to give.
This is the key to being human: survival. And I held it in my hands and made it law.

In Ceres, neither dogs, nor rats, nor cats go hungry.
Look around — children die outside, starving, served as food for the worms of war.
Not here.
Here, with me, you do not eat the flesh of your brothers. Because I already devour it inside you before you need to devour each other.

I performed the miracle.
I did what no god dared. No dictator dared. No president, no minister, no redeemer or destroyer or messiah was ever capable even of imagining.
And I did it in flesh.
I am mortal.
But my work is not.

In return… you give me your freedom.
You think freedom would allow you to find destinies. Foolishness. Illusion.
You mirror the few who will succeed… and fail at the obvious.
I offer the obvious.
And even those who challenge me… envy me.
Because I removed the filth of the human soul… and gave you a perfection you would never have dreamed of deserving.
And I delight in it.

Do you know why?
BECAUSE I AM CERES.
I AM MOTHER CERES.
THE ONE WHO FEEDS.
THE ONE WHO EDUCATES.
THE ONE WHO PROTECTS.
AND THE ONE WHO DEVOURS.

No one dares escape me.
Not even you, who dare to dream.
Because before you dream… you are already mine.

…And if you dare to flee from me, remember: there is no mountain high enough, no valley deep enough, no distant exile far enough where I cannot reach you.
Because you belong to me even before you are born.
Because I am not just the city.
I am the air you breathe.
I am the ground you walk on.
I am the weight on your shoulders when you think of rising.
I am the whisper in the dark when you believe you are alone.
There is no escape.
There is no rebellion that does not end in the palm of my hand.

I am Mother Ceres.
I feed you… to have more flesh to devour.
And one day — all of you will be in my entrails.
Because there is only one destiny for those born here.
TO BE MINE.
ALWAYS.
FOREVER.

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