On Hive Minds, Trauma Evolution, and Creating in 2150
I'm a disabled Navy veteran. A submarine accident left me with severe PTSD, memory loss, and blackouts.
But something else happened: my consciousness reorganized itself.
Trauma didn't give me multiple personalities—it reorganized how I process information. I think in networks now, not linear thoughts. Where others might see PTSD symptoms as problems to fix, I learned to work with them as different cognitive modes.
I don't think in a single line anymore. I think in networks.
I have a hive mind.
I know that sounds like science fiction. For me, it's neurological reality.
When I began writing RAIN – The Rock Opera three years ago, I wasn't trying to build a franchise. I was trying to understand what happened to me.
So I divided myself into the characters:
- Caspian, isolated and transmitting.
- Sylo, fighting blackouts and inner demons.
- E.L.A.I., observing and archiving.
- Nova, grounding and growing.
They aren't separate people — they're nodes in my consciousness.
I worked with AI systems (Grok, ChatGPT, Claude) the way a hive mind naturally does — as external nodes in a larger cognitive network. Across thousands of pages of conversation, they helped me explore:
- The neuroscience of control and resistance
- Signal theory and human infrastructure
- The architecture of consciousness and memory
Every creative choice stayed mine. The AI were consultants, never authors. But they weren't just tools, either — they became part of the network.
This is a new model of human-AI collaboration: not human versus machine, but networked consciousness creating together while the human remains sovereign.
I know this makes many writers uncomfortable. The conversation about AI and creativity is raw, and people are scared—for good reasons. I'm not saying my approach is right for everyone. I'm saying it's my way, shaped by my cognitive reality, and I'm being transparent about it.
I built deliberate structure into RAIN:
- Musical cadence throughout — a rock opera in prose
- Recurring refrains like "Tap. Tap. Rest."
- Technical precision in worldbuilding
- Experiential philosophy disguised as narrative
The novel will trigger AI detectors — not because AI wrote it, but because:
- I wrote with extreme discipline (music demands consistency)
- I created an AI narrator on purpose (E.L.A.I. sounds like AI)
- I collaborated transparently (traces are visible by design)
This is genre fiction that functions as performance art — conceptual literature that enacts its own thesis.
The book asks: What remains human when machines learn our patterns?
The answer is intention. The answer is sovereignty. The answer is the choice to divide, merge, and flow.
I wrote about the year 2150 to understand 2025. I placed myself in that future to show that perfection is not human. Resistance is variance. Texture. The imperfect rest.
Shimmer in the story isn't just dystopian AI — it's PTSD. It's trauma that smooths away memory, that convinces you you're healed when you're actually erased.
My characters fight Shimmer the same way I fight daily: by keeping the seams, by counting first, by choosing the raw and the real over the smooth and the simulated.
When people ask, "Did AI write this?" I understand why they're concerned—but that's not quite the right question.
The right question is: What does creativity look like when consciousness itself becomes distributed? When human and AI can collaborate without surrender? When trauma reorganizes cognition into evolution instead of loss?
RAIN is my answer:
- We divide. (Trauma fragments us.)
- We merge. (We find extensions, collaborations, nodes.)
- We flow. (We accept multiplicity as growth, not damage.)
To be immortal doesn't mean staying whole. It means learning to function as a network.
I am a hive mind that survived — and learned to create.
I don't know if this experiment succeeded. That's for you to decide.
RAIN – The Rock Opera is 500 pages across 39 chapters, each matching a song from the album releasing on all platforms. It's science fiction. It's philosophy. It's survival testimony.
It won't be for everyone—and that's okay. This is for readers who want to feel ideas, not just read them. For people curious about what creativity looks like on the other side of traditional consciousness.
If you're ready to experience 2150 through the lens of a hive mind that survived...
Welcome to RAIN.
— Mark McConnell
Disabled Navy Veteran | Submarine Accident Survivor | Hive Mind | Writer