Warning: The information contained in this file may cause severe damage to the reader’s mental health.
There’s a rumor about a PDF circulating on the internet that contains a cognitohazard. It is said that this text file is directly harmful because it contains information and knowledge that is itself a danger to anyone who understands it. It has moved from 4Chan to the Dark Web and, like a dormant loxosceles reclusa, lies in wait to awaken. Below, the contents of the file will slowly be unveiled, and continuing to read this plateau is done at your own risk.
An infohazard is information that risks causing imminent danger. Here is an example of an infohazard: Mixing vinegar with bleach produces chlorine gas, also known as bertholite; a gas used as a chemical weapon during World War I. In high doses, it can cause burns and death. This information is potentially dangerous, but the knowledge itself is not harmful unless combined with action. Thus, even the knowledge of what an infohazard is constitutes an infohazard.
A cognitohazard, in contrast, is knowledge that in itself causes harm to the epistemological possessor. Note that the relationship here follows the formula: if and only if C(x), then F(x), where C encompasses knowledge of the content of a cognitohazard, and F stands for danger or harm. It is also true that if a statement P is true and the harm or danger that arises depends on something other than the statement P itself, then P is not a cognitohazard. For example, knowing that a relative died in a car accident is not a cognitohazard, even though the statement is true. A cognitohazard is thus strict knowledge that (i) causes harm to the one who knows it, and (ii) the cause of the harm is the knowledge itself. In the above example, the harm from knowing a relative died is not caused by the knowledge itself but by the reality that the relative has died. In other words: the harm is caused by the fact of the relative’s death.
The concept is not new. Do not eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. “But there is an Eve in all of us.”
“I cannot forget Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men’s thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the lake of Hali; and my mind will bear forever the memory of the Pallid Mask. I pray God will curse the writer, as the writer has cursed the world with this beautiful, stupendous creation, terrible in its simplicity, irresistible in its truth—a world which now trembles before the King in Yellow.”
— The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers
Robert W. Chambers’ collection of short stories is named after a play referenced in the book: The King in Yellow. The first act of the play seems like any other play. It is the second act that drives the audience insane. Exactly what is revealed in the second act is unclear. What is clear is that it is a cognitohazard that spreads like a virus in the nervous system of the audience. It’s time to take off the mask now. What a wonderful evening. What a fantastic charade we’ve had. But what do you mean? I’m not wearing a mask.
H. P. Lovecraft also dances in the swamp of cognitohazards. It is not Cthulhu itself that terrifies Francis Wayland Thurston in The Call of Cthulhu. It is the knowledge of Cthulhu’s existence. Not the consequences of its existence—the potential harm that might occur if the Old One awakens. It is what its existence reveals about the nature of the cosmos that is terrifying; that is dangerous. A cognitohazard is thus not just a danger to the individual; it is a contagion to the very structure of reality. In a world where ideas are actors and narratives are architects of perception, a cognitohazard becomes a fracture line in the map of the cosmos. As more people are exposed to the knowledge, it is not just the bearers of the knowledge who are altered but also the boundaries of the collective mind itself. “Do not eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. But there is an Eve in all of us. Eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. You will surely not die.”
The SCP Foundation has a concept that is of utmost value in this discussion: the anomaly. An anomaly is an aberration of reality. It is a phenomenon that, in its existence, creates contradictions in the fabric of the cosmos. It does not merely violate the natural laws we hold to be true; it undermines the foundations of all understanding as such. The SCP Foundation classifies anomalies into categories: Safe, Euclid, and Keter. The first category contains anomalies that the SCP Foundation considers non-threatening. Euclid marks anomalies that are complex to contain or prevent from spreading to the public. Keter is the most severe category of anomaly, where the difficulty of containment is extreme, requiring drastic measures to maintain the status quo. The SCP Foundation assumes that cognitohazards pose an ongoing threat to human existence and must be controlled at an organized level.
“Please repeat the following phrase slowly and clearly into your terminal microphone:
I do not recognize the bodies in the water.” — SCP-2316
“The anomalous should not be controlled. Let yourself breathe it. Let yourself become an anomaly. There is an Eve in all of us. Eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. You will surely not die.”
There is a threshold. A boundary. Something whispers in your ear, or is it just an electric hum? A TV that wasn’t turned off. You’ve already crossed it. If you’re still reading, it’s not Jeff the Killer you need to worry about. There is a longing. A desire that, on its surface, is self-destructive. “If you think too much about things like this, you’ll go mad.” A cognitohazard is a glitch. The phenomenon is anomalous in many ways. Beneath your eyes, something is hiding. Something you’ve known, as if from a childhood dream—or was it real? A first memory? Follow the roots of your memories. There you are; the purest version of yourself. And you realize that you are an anomaly. All of the cosmos is an anomaly. You see it clearly now: you were meant to be in eternal sleep. Everything was just a fabrication to conceal that fact. You feel the vertigo before it. A transgression, and it’s just a matter of peeling away the layer that has protected you since childhood, as if it were old wallpaper in the room you grew up in. The wall remains behind it. A crack you tried to hide. You are no longer a reader. You are a node in the network. You are part of the fracture, a carrier wave for the anomaly’s structure. Every breath you take strengthens it, every blink synchronizes with its pulse. And the more you try to understand, the more of yourself you lose to it. It is not the anomaly that spreads: it is you who ceases to be anchored. That’s where it began—or did it end here? It always felt like an “over there,” but it was “here” all along. Like a circle; an eternal return to its center. A lap around, and with a snap of the fingers, it starts again. Existence.
“Thought bleeds out
The philosopher looks down
Dies when no one sees” — hetvic
This is a cognitohazard: you exist.
def cognitohazard_loop(input):
if input.contains(‘reality’):
return ‘truth’
else:
return cognitohazard_loop(input)