The problem with the wordcel-shape rotator class is that it’s an ecosystem without an outside. A self-licking ice cream cone of credentialed cognition. They write white papers for each other, render graphs no one else reads, optimize logistics for the next iteration of optimizing logistics.

But here’s the catch—markets require consumers. They require a churning mass of people who don’t know the terms, who don’t spend their time rotating polyhedra in their heads or debating semiotic collapse on Discord. Markets need people who buy, who need, who act irrationally and impulsively and sometimes just want a thing because it’s shiny.

That used to be the role of the great unwashed, the working stiffs, the beer-swilling sports fans, the department store clerks. But automation, financialization, and all the other -izations squeezed them out. Now, the only people left with purchasing power are the same people who design the products. Which means the demand curve has collapsed in on itself. It’s a Klein bottle economy—curved back through four-dimensional space so that the output feeds directly into the input.

And that’s not a market. That’s a recursion error.

So what happens when a civilization optimizes itself into irrelevance? When the last meaningful transactions are just AI-generated slideshows about AI-generated products, pitched to AI-generated venture capital firms?

Simple. The simulation crashes. And in the end, someone—probably an underpaid contractor in a country the wordcels have never heard of—has to unplug the damn thing and start over.