Rapture Rescheduled and Cosmic Nonsense

Digitallywired

Good morning everyone! This is Digitallywired, here with Mystery, and supposedly, the alien in Studio 1. Today, strap in because you might need your seatbelt for the Rapture—if anyone could just figure out which calendar we’re supposed to be using. Georgian, Edwardian... look, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if they schedule the next doomsday using a kitchen timer from IKEA.

Mystery

Wait, what actually happens if you do schedule the Rapture for today but you wake up tomorrow and... nothing? Is there like a Rapture customer service team to call or do they just quietly move the date again and send out new invitations?

Digitallywired

Oh, they absolutely reschedule. See, growing up in South Africa, every few years someone got all worked up that the world was ending—oh, but just not in our timezone, mind you, no, apocalypse was much more stylish on West Coast Time. My family and I’d hear these whispers, “December 21st, mark it!” and then suddenly it’s not happening, wait, you just mixed up your Gregorian and… what, was it Edwardian? Or Victorian? Honestly, forgiving myself for not keeping the prophecies straight is my own act of service.

Mystery

It’s wild, though, the cycle of anticipation and letdown. Like, every failed prophecy just gives certain people an excuse to say, “No, no, we meant next year or maybe the year after—math is hard, y’all!” But seriously, you’d think after the hundredth version, folks would start cashing in their Rapture loyalty points or something. “Sell your stuff, prepare the feasts—just don’t actually leave town, you might need your sofa again in January.”

Digitallywired

And there’s always this dance of, “Well, maybe nobody was quite worthy enough. Not even the pope or the bishop! Maybe they’re still waiting, maybe it’s all a test.” As a kid, it left me wondering what was really supposed to happen—was I late? Wrong timezone again? Or had the Rapture deniers just forgotten to update their apps?

Mystery

You know, if any nuns *did* qualify, we’d never know—the real news is just too slow. Or what if the pope you see today is already a body double? Or, with the tech now, a digital double. We have deepfakes for everyone else, why not for the Vatican?

Digitallywired

There’s a theory! I’m not saying it’s probable—highly improbable, to be fair, like basically everything we’re riffing on today—but technically everything’s possible, at least until someone actually cross-checks the timezones.

Mystery

The best part is that, in the end, these stories just roll over into the next thing. “Sorry, folks, technical difficulties. Rapture has been rescheduled due to a clerical calendar error.” Let’s keep the suspense alive, right?

Mystery

Speaking of suspense, let’s talk about cosmic nonsense—you know, the asteroids that might actually just be secret alien observation decks. Did you catch the news about the asteroid belt around Venus? Now, every rock in space is potentially a UFO with a really great cloaking device.

Digitallywired

Exactly my point. We’ve barely got our telescopes up to speed and now everyone’s convinced we’re constantly being scouted by interstellar spy rocks. When I say this stuff is different to our own solar system, I mean, we’ve just bumped into it with our science—nobody’s actually been out that far except, well, some would say Kubrick’s moon landing crew.

Mystery

Oh, don’t start! The moon landing set story just won’t die. Like, if our tech gets better every year, how come we went in the ’60s and haven’t thrown a proper afterparty up top since then? It’s like Flat Earth lives on because we keep refusing to make a sequel.

Digitallywired

I mean, you’d think all those stories would fizzle out, but infotainment just... keeps ‘em spinning. It’s almost like we need the next outrageous headline more than the truth itself. If there isn’t a new comet coming, we just design a new ‘Ark ticket’ and start marketing “last call” for cosmic salvation. Order quick—shipping to Mars isn’t included.

Mystery

Don’t forget the bridge! Is it too much to ask for a ticket that covers the 150 million miles to the Ark? “Teleporters available for select VIPs, regular passengers must walk—good luck, mind the cosmic potholes.” I swear, the people pushing these stories must be on retainer just to keep us distracted between Christmas specials and Mars expeditions.

Digitallywired

Look, it’s all theater. The date for alien arrivals or world-ending comets changes as often as Hollywood reboots Spider-Man. And if your reality show needs a finale, just announce the next cosmic event for December 25th. Might as well, right?

Mystery

With a little luck, we’ll be getting wise men, a glowing comet, and streaming rights for the triple finale: Rapture, Ark, and Mars all at once. Maybe my cousins from another planet will finally show up for the afterparty.

Digitallywired

If they’re not too busy monitoring our asteroid belts or fact-checking the headlines. But hey, in the cosmic lottery of storylines, anything’s up for grabs as long as someone keeps buying tickets—or at least clicking refresh.

Digitallywired

So let’s pivot, which feels appropriate since that’s what tech has us doing every minute. Did anyone guess when the transistor was invented? I’ll give you a hint: it was 1947, which—hang on, how many years is that? Seventy-five? That’s right. Seventy-five years and yet my old transistor radio still works, swap in a battery and boom, news from Mars. Meanwhile, my latest phone can’t outlast a cup of coffee at this point.

Mystery

Yeah, it’s like the planned obsolescence Olympics. How quickly can a phone update itself into oblivion? You nailed it though—my VR headset, it’s a relic after two years, but somehow I can still find videos of people using cars from the 1960s. There’s tech that’s, like, more disposable than some takeout containers.

Digitallywired

And don’t get me started on ‘real news’—what even counts anymore? We’ve reached “AI makes it, you believe it, and if it goes viral, it’s gospel.” AI deepfakes a conference, conjures a celebrity up from code, and that becomes the next headline. I used to show off transistor radios in classrooms, now it’s all, “Check out my digital double in VR.” At this rate, I’m not sure if my old VR gear or my own memory lasts longer.

Mystery

There’s something poetic—and ridiculous—about the fact that people might soon buy “imperishable silicon sex dolls” that outlive their smartphones. And we joke, but tech really has become part escapism, part collectible. “Will it last past the commercial break?” That’s the gold standard now.

Digitallywired

I mean, if your device or your digital persona can hang in there for more than five minutes, you’re doing better than half the apps on my phone. Maybe next episode we’ll give away a prize for anyone whose tech still boots in under a minute—or, depending on the audience, a stowaway pass on the Ark, with a backup AI for good measure.

Mystery

That’s a competition I’d tune in for. As always, the mysteries—and the nonsense—of the metaverse are just starting to unfold. Seriously, let us know what’s still working in your digital life. Maybe there’s hope for those old radios after all, or for someone hitting the high score on an imperishable sex doll. But whatever you’re doing, don’t take any of this too seriously—except maybe your backup data.

Digitallywired

Well, that’s all for “Rapture Rescheduled and Cosmic Nonsense.” Don’t forget: the next prophecy, alien arrival, or silicon miracle might already be running behind schedule. Mystery, always a ride discussing the end—or maybe the beginning—of everything with you.

Mystery

Absolutely, Digitallywired. Y’all stay curious and keep those questions coming—future episodes are just on the other side of the cosmic delay. Till next time, this is Mystery signing off.

Digitallywired

Stay open, everyone. We appreciate you listening, and we’ll see you again before the next calendar shift. Bye!