The world watched in quiet horror as the Palantir CEO stood before the cameras, his words slicing through the air like a dull knife. “Neurodivergents will own the future,” he declared, as if he’d just unlocked the secret to humanity’s salvation. But the truth was far more sinister—and far more familiar.
For years, we’ve watched tech billionaires reduce human complexity to punchlines, turning our struggles into their fortunes. This wasn’t a revelation; it was the same old script, rewritten with new actors and a shinier stage. The only difference was that this time, they’d chosen to fetishize neurodivergence—the very trait they’d spent decades exploiting.
And the worst part? Some of us were still cheering them on.
Why Do We Still Listen to These People?
The question isn’t why they’re saying these things; it’s why we’re still listening. These CEOs—Thiel, Musk, the rest of them—have built empires on the backs of ideas they stole, twisted, and sold back to us as innovation. They’ve turned mental illness into a quirky accessory, a “superpower” you can buy with the right dose of Adderall and the wrong kind of ambition.
But here’s the truth: neurodivergence isn’t a superpower. It’s a way of being. And when your special interest can’t make a CEO millions, you’re not part of the conversation. You’re just another line in the code they’re too lazy to debug.
The Mental Gymnastics of Shareholders
In the dark corners of investment forums, the mental gymnastics are staggering. Mention Palantir’s history—9/11, mass surveillance, the whole nine yards—and you’re met with dumb logic. “The line goes up,” they say, as if privacy and dignity were optional accessories in the pursuit of profit.
Anything goes as long as the line goes up.
But what happens when the line stops going up? When the AI they’ve so eagerly embraced starts turning on them? The same people who fetishize neurodivergence will be the first to call you unstable when the system fails.
AI Isn’t Creative—It’s a Copycat
The CEO’s claim that neurodivergents will “own the future” because AI can’t replicate their “divergent thinking” is laughably wrong. AI isn’t creative. It’s a copycat. Everything it produces is a remix of existing data, a hollow echo of human creativity. True originality—divergent thinking—comes from the messy, unpredictable parts of the human brain. The parts CEOs like to pretend they understand.
And when AI runs out of material to consume? It will wane. But by then, we’ll be so deep in their manufactured future that escape will seem like a fantasy.
The Feudal Future They’re Building
These tech elites aren’t just predicting the future; they’re designing it. Their open admiration for Curtis Yarvin—advocate of corporate monarchy and slavery—should have been a red flag. But instead, we’ve normalized their rhetoric, their narcissism, their boundless greed.
They want to bring back serfdom, not with swords and chains, but with algorithms and contracts. They’re not just CEOs; they’re modern-day lords, and we’re their peasants.
The Neurodivergent Reality Check
For those of us who actually live with neurodivergence, this isn’t a game. It’s not a quirky trait to be exploited for profit. It’s a way of navigating a world that wasn’t built for us—a world that still demands we conform, even as it celebrates our “superpowers.”
The CEO’s words aren’t a prophecy; they’re a warning. The future isn’t about neurodivergents owning the world. It’s about the rest of us finally realizing we’ve been played.