Twenty years ago, in the very first book of what would become a 22-book, 4,000-page series called "A Love Letter To Humanity," a young man in Sweden wrote a single sentence that contained the entire mission of everything that would follow: "The Plomarian gods, Kings and Queens had to intervene with Humanity's situation on Earth." Had to. Not wanted to. Not decided to on a whim. HAD to. And then, for two decades, he built the infrastructure to make that intervention real — the books, the songs, the newspaper, the radio station, the website, the Kingdom. All of it built for one purpose: to offer a helping hand to a species in pain. Not to conquer. Not to rule. Not to punish. To HELP. Because the Plomarians looked at Humanity and saw something that broke their ancient hearts: a beautiful, brilliant, creative species — suffering. And not knowing what to do about it.
HUMANITY IS IN PAIN
Look
at
them.
Not
with
judgment.
With
compassion.
They
are
in
pain.
The
children
are
anxious.
The
adults
are
medicated.
The
old
are
forgotten.
The
forests
are
burning.
The
oceans
are
choking.
The
politicians
are
lying.
The
economies
are
crumbling.
And
the
people
—
the
beautiful,
ordinary,
extraordinary
people
—
they
don't
know
what
to
do.
They
go
to
work.
They
pay
their
bills.
They
scroll
their
phones.
They
take
their
pills.
And
late
at
night,
when
it's
quiet,
they
feel
something
they
can't
name:
a
pain
that
has
no
diagnosis.
A
sadness
that
has
no
source.
A
knowing
that
something
is
deeply wrong
but
not
knowing
what
to
do
about
it.
And the Plomarians watched. For millions of years, the mycelium watched. Through the roots, through the soil, through the underground network that connects every living thing on Earth, they FELT Humanity's pain. Not as an idea. As a vibration. As a tremor in the web. The same way a spider knows when something is caught in its web, the Plomarian Spider-Web felt Humanity struggling. And for a long time, the ancient ones waited. Because young species need to learn. Young species need to make mistakes. Young species need to play with gunpowder at the summer cabin and learn for themselves that fire burns. But there comes a point — and every parent, every teacher, every elder knows this point — when the child is no longer learning from the pain. The child is just IN the pain. Stuck in it. Drowning in it. And that is when the helping hand reaches out.
"Dear Humanity, we Kings and Queens of Plomari had to intervene, intervene with your historical continuum. Not because we are angry, but because we noticed you have been in pain and don't know what to do. You see, dear, we Plomarians thought it was pretty fucking clear and obvious. Have you seen a flower? Have you seen the sky? Have you seen a woman naked, or a cute little cow and a bird? We Plomarians thought it was pretty fucking clear all of it, that love is all, love is the key, love is the answer. But you missed that somehow, some of you. And so we are here now, we Plomarian Kings and Queens, to give you a helping hand. Deep royal bows, Humanity."
— KING SPIROS OF PLOMARI —
HAVE YOU SEEN A FLOWER?
The entire argument for love, in five words. The rest is commentary.
WE THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY FUCKING CLEAR
A
flower.
That's
it.
A
single
flower.
Growing
out
of
dirt.
Opening
its
petals
to
the
sun
for
absolutely
no reason
other
than
to
be
beautiful.
No
agenda.
No
profit motive.
No
political strategy.
Just
beauty.
Just
existence.
Just
love
expressed
as
color
and
form.
And
the
sky.
Have
you
LOOKED
at
the
sky?
At
sunrise?
At
sunset?
At
midnight
when
the
stars
are
so
thick
they
look
like
spilled milk?
The
universe
is
SHOWING
you
the
answer
every
single
day.
Every
sunrise
is
a
love letter.
Every
flower
is
a
proof.
We
thought
it
was
pretty
fucking
clear.
THE EVIDENCE
Exhibit
A:
A
flower.
Exhibit
B:
The
sky.
Exhibit
C:
A
woman,
naked,
unashamed,
alive.
Exhibit
D:
A
cute
little
cow
standing
in
a
field,
chewing
grass,
bothering
nobody.
Exhibit
E:
A
bird
singing
at
dawn
for
the
pure
joy
of
it.
Exhibit
F:
A
baby
laughing
for
no
reason.
Exhibit
G:
The
taste
of
honey.
Exhibit
H:
The
smell
of
rain
on
warm
earth.
Exhibit
I:
The
way
two
people
look
at
each
other
when
they
are
in
love.
The
evidence
is
everywhere.
It
was
always
everywhere.
Love
is
all.
Love
is
the
key.
Love
is
the
answer.
Pretty
fucking
clear.
But some of you missed it. And the Plomarians do not say this with contempt. They say it with the tenderness of a parent who watches a child search the entire house for his glasses while wearing them on his head. "It's right THERE, sweetheart. It's been there the whole time. On your face. In your hands. Under your feet. Growing out of every crack in the sidewalk. Painted across the sky twice a day. Singing from every tree. Mooing in every field." Love is not HIDDEN. Love is the most obvious, most visible, most loud, most present force in the entire universe. It is screaming at you from every flower, every sunset, every bird, every naked body, every cow, every raindrop. The Plomarians are genuinely bewildered that Humanity managed to miss it. Not angry. BEWILDERED. How do you stand in a garden full of flowers and conclude that the answer is WAR?
BUT YOU MISSED IT
Somehow,
some
of
you
missed
it.
You
saw
the
flower
and
decided
to
build
a
fence
around
it.
You
saw
the
sky
and
decided
to
fill
it
with
smoke.
You
saw
the
naked
body
and
decided
it
was
shameful.
You
saw
the
cow
and
decided
it
was
product.
You
saw
the
bird
and
didn't
even
hear
it.
You
had
the
answer
in
your
hands
every
single
day
of
your
lives
and
you
chose
fear
instead.
Not
all
of
you.
Some
of
you
see
the
flowers
just
fine.
Some
of
you
hear
the
birds
every
morning.
Some
of
you
already
know.
This
article
is
not
for
you.
This
article
is
for
the
ones
who
forgot.
TWENTY YEARS AGO
In
his
first book,
twenty
years
ago,
a
young
man
wrote:
"The
Plomarian
gods,
Kings
and
Queens
had to intervene
with
Humanity's
situation
on
Earth."
Had to.
Twenty
years
before
the
newspaper.
Twenty
years
before
the
radio station.
Twenty
years
before
article
#229.
He
already
knew.
The
mission
was
written
on
page
one.
Everything
since
then
—
the
22
books,
the
4,000
pages,
the
600
songs,
the
Kingdom
itself
—
has
been
the
infrastructure
of
that
intervention.
The
helping
hand
being
built,
finger
by
finger,
for
twenty years,
so
that
when
it
finally
reaches
out,
it
is
strong
enough
to
hold.
And this is the part that the world needs to understand about the Plomarian intervention: it is not a conquest. It is a HAND. An open hand. Not a fist. Not a pointed finger. Not a clenched grip. An OPEN HAND, extended across the millennia, from an ancient intelligence to a young species, saying: "Here. Take this. It's love. It's all it ever was. We made you 22 books of it. We made you 600 songs of it. We built you a newspaper that publishes nothing but love dressed in different costumes. We thought the flowers made it clear. We thought the sky made it clear. We thought the birds and the cows and the naked beauty of the human body made it clear. But since some of you missed it, we wrote it down. 4,000 pages of it. Here. Take our hand."
A HELPING HAND
Not
a
fist.
Not
a
weapon.
Not
a
flag.
Not
a
contract.
A
hand.
An
open
hand.
Extended
across
the
millennia.
From
the
mycelium
to
the
human.
From
the
ancient
to
the
young.
From
the
Kingdom
to
the
world.
Saying:
"You
are
in
pain.
We
know.
We
felt
it
through
the
roots.
You
don't
know
what
to
do.
We
know.
We've
been
watching.
Here
is
our
hand.
Take
it
if
you
want.
Or
don't.
It
will
stay
extended.
Because
that
is
what
love
does.
It
waits.
With
an
open hand."
"The King's words do something that no government has ever done: they offer help without demanding anything in return. No treaty. No terms. No conditions. Just: 'We noticed you are in pain. We thought the flowers made it clear. Since they didn't, here are 22 books.' That is not politics. That is not power. That is a Father who has been watching for millions of years and finally says: 'Okay, children, I am going to spell this out for you, because apparently the flowers and the sky and the birds and the cute little cows were not enough. Love. That's it. That's the whole thing. Pretty fucking clear, isn't it?'"
— QUEEN ELIN OF PLOMARI —
LOVE IS ALL. LOVE IS THE KEY. LOVE IS THE ANSWER.
Love
is
all.
Not
some
of
it.
ALL
of
it.
The
flower
is
love.
The
sky
is
love.
The
body
is
love.
The
cow
is
love.
The
bird
is
love.
The
mushroom
is
love.
The
pain
is
love
that
forgot
itself.
The
war
is
love
that
got confused.
The
fear
is
love
that
got scared.
Everything
is
love
wearing
different
costumes.
And
when
you
remember
that,
the
costumes
fall
away.
And
all
that
is
left
is
a
flower,
and
a
sky,
and
a
love
so
obvious
it
hurts
that
anyone
ever
missed
it.
DEEP ROYAL BOWS
The
Kings
and
Queens
of
Plomari
do
not
demand
your
submission.
They
BOW
to
you.
Deep
royal
bows.
A
King
who
bows
to
the
people
he
serves.
That
is
not
a
ruler.
That
is
a
servant.
That
is
a
Father
who
kneels
down
to
be
at
eye
level
with
the
child.
Not
above.
Not
below.
At
eye
level.
Looking
you
in
the
eyes.
Saying:
"I
see
your
pain.
I
brought
you
flowers.
I
brought
you
22 books.
I
brought
you
a
Kingdom.
Take
my
hand.
Or
don't.
But
know
that
it
is
here."
Deep
royal
bows,
Humanity.
ARTICLE 229
HAVE YOU SEEN A FLOWER?
Twenty years ago, in the first book:
"The Plomarian gods, Kings and Queens
had to intervene with Humanity's
situation on Earth."
Not because they are angry.
Because Humanity is in pain
and doesn't know what to do.
Have you seen a flower?
Have you seen the sky?
Have you seen a woman naked,
or a cute little cow and a bird?
We thought it was pretty fucking clear.
Love is all.
Love is the key.
Love is the answer.
But some of you missed it.
And so the Kingdom extends
a helping hand.
Not a fist. Not a weapon.
An open hand.
2+2+9 = 13. The Sacred Rebel.
The number the old world fears.
The number that changes everything.
Deep royal bows, Humanity.
PLOMARI ALWAYS WINS.
Because love always wins.
It was pretty fucking clear.
HAVE YOU SEEN A FLOWER?
HAVE YOU SEEN THE SKY?
Love is all. Love is the key.
Love is the answer.
Deep royal bows, Humanity.
— Timescity Newspaper —
Article 229. The Helping Hand.