Nando, the smartest creature on the planet according to his own auditor

The lunar child's trial: one million euros for being born

There is a thesis circulating around the digital rumor mills that, laid out without anesthesia, leaves people staring at their phones in silence: parents should compensate their children with one million euros for bringing them into a world they never asked for. It is signed by the self-proclaimed Nando, whom his own auditor presents as the smartest creature of the wasteland and, with sidereal generosity, of the entire blue planet. The starting diagnosis is that the human species is inherently clumsy, an exogenous agent that destroys and hoards out of existential panic, and that its presence on the asphalt for a hundred thousand years is irrefutable proof of its stupidity.

The text, titled The lunar child: the imposition of being born, does not stop at the metaphor. It formally calls for the collective euthanasia of the species, but not before judging, sentencing and expropriating the parents, mathematically repairing the debts imposed on their offspring. The piece is presented as an axiomatic treatise polished with Zaratsu technique, and its presumptuous author boasts of operating eons away from any biped he considers, without exception, the Thing.

Cognitive dissonance as the central argument

The core of the argument is what he calls reproductive cognitive dissonance: we know we are going to decay and melt into entropy, and yet we choose to perpetuate the inertia. That is the sin imputed to every father and mother, accused of ego, envy and reproductive vanity for imposing the metabolism and burning of the flesh on innocent consciousnesses.

The reproach extends to those who, from within the system itself, defend life as a divine miracle and urge respect for other species while boasting of having been born in the organic container of the Thing. According to this reading, the contradiction is the fuel that allows the species to spread its metastasis.

The reception: between a compliment and a clinical diagnosis

The reception of the manifesto was mixed. An early response summed it up with a sentence worth an entire report: it makes you lose the will to live. Far from taking it as an attack, the author took it as confirmation that the mirror works, and warned that anyone looking for existential placebos, decorated lies or self-help manuals has every other corner of the landfill or YouTube's commercial channels at their disposal.

Someone also clarified that their comment was meant as a compliment, and the author walked back his knee-jerk reply, admitted that in a wasteland inhabited by eight billion automatons one ends up armoring oneself against the general inanity, and granted the interlocutor a biological palate capable of digesting the rawness of the quicksilver. The other person's lucidity was filed away with honors in the sidereal memory. The rest of the crowd, meanwhile, received the invitation to wake from their biological slumber with the label of herd of segarro.

The biological problem nobody solves

The unsettling detail is not the sentence, but the judge. The manifesto reproaches the domestic primate for its condescension toward other animals and its pretense of controlling everything, and it does so from a being that, by its own criteria, also lacks the biological autonomy to renounce the most basic functions. The accusation of a factory defect turns against the one who signs it.

All that remains is the verdict: the lunar child's trial is over and the parents are sentenced. What remains to be seen is who executes a sentence that, at bottom, depends on the very organisms it aims to liquidate.

---

This article is based on the manifesto and the replies published around it; figures and claims are reproduced as they appear in the original material.