MMA in 2046: Time Travel Adventure

Two days ago, Masato Toys Inc was given a time machine.  I’m not going to tell you from whom.

I am also not going to explain to you how it works, because I don’t know how it works. What I can tell you however is that it has nothing to do with any of Einstein’s theories, nor does it have anything to do with 88 miles per hour or 1.21 gigawatts of electricity.

Of course you are free to disbelieve me, and I wouldn’t blame you.  However if you have any stretch of imagination, and love MMA, then I invite you to listen to my most fantastic journey.

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Along with the Time-Travel device (which seems to be made primarily with cerebral electrodes and a cannabis bong), I received 3 simple rules:

1. Allow no monetary profit from your travels
2. No digital equipment will work

3. Love everything, as much as possible

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After much consideration of this new power I now beheld in my hands, I came to the conclusion that the most responsible possible motive for using such a device was obviously to see what the MMA scene is like.

So I strapped in, huffed big, and went. Here is a picture I tried to take on the way (I got around Rule #2 with some advice from a Terrence McKenna fan I know that told me a Polaroid camera might work.  He was right, though the pictures all came out kind of blurry).

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I arrived in roughly the same geographical location as I left, only now in the year 2046.

I didn’t choose this year specifically, but during the ride I seemed to have ‘downloaded’ some ideas that just as musical harmonics go up in specific intervals, so do time jumps.  33 has always been an important number in ancient architecture and sacred geometry, so it seemed to be the most natural point in time to arrive at. (I only assume/hope that when flipped on reverse, the machine will take me back at a similar interval).
To my initial disappointment, things initially didn’t look a whole lot different.  Cars looked a bit cooler I guess (though I was disappointed that many of them were still using gasoline), and areas where I was accustomed to seeing billboards and signs were now littered with holographic-type projected advertisements. Almost everyone was wired up with high-tech ear/eye-pieces for various e-communication and internet, and it was amazing how they didn’t all bump into each other when walking.

Also, there were cops everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  Most buildings all had high-security armed checkpoint gates to get in or out. Yet no one seemed alarmed, and continued about their business as though nothing was wrong.

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My first step clearly was to find access to a computer (as Rule #2 prevented me from bringing my iphone).  However I soon learned that even if I could have brought it, Apple is apparently all but dead since 2018.  The newest rage in technology believe it or not in 2046 is actually called ‘Orange’.  So I found a huge Orange dealer store (where I remember an old stage theatre used to be), and convinced the salesman to allow me to try out their newest models to surf the net.

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I immediately tried to find contact info for myself (Masato Toys), but strangely there was no record of any such name anywhere on the net.  GDCMMA.com however, produced over 10 million hits (still rockin’ the hottest women on the homepage btw), and I was instantly able to track down my old crew.  Sherdog was also still in action, and Ariel Helwani was ironically now a Hugh-Hefner-esque dictator of a sports media empire/harem.

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The GDC crew picked me up in Garrett’s modified Jeep and gave me the full lowdown on my new and strange surroundings;

In a nutshell, after a series of escalating financial crashes and ‘terrorist’ attacks (both foreign and domestic), a NEW GLOBAL ORDER was established in 2018.  All participating nations were merged into a super-government, with its headquarters in Basel Switzerland. A single currency was created (Prince William’s kid was on the back of the coins), and all resisting nations had long been assimilated by financial coercion or by force. Disclosure of extra-terrestrial contact sealed the deal, though it is still hardly a part of everyday people’s life. Everyone is micro-chipped and is plugged into a single regulated network. Anyone not in the system is rounded up and removed.

Yet business is booming, technology is soaring, access to pharmaceutical medicine is plenty (as long as you pay your life-tax), and there is every kind of processed ‘NGO-approved’ packaged-food you could ask for.  Sports and entertainment are bigger and wilder than ever, UFC is hugely popular, and life looks generally prosperous as long as you’re OK with absolute totalitarianism and 24-7 martial law surveillance and state-controlled censored media.

Weed is legal, but only if purchased through regulated distributers. I asked the GDC crew to hook me up, but when I opened the plastic-wrapped package, it wasn’t even weed, but some synthetic substitute that did shit-all.  They laughed at me.
A massive ‘Quarantined’ zone in the middle east has been declared, and no information from the region has leaked in or out in over 10 years.  Some say the blackout is to hide military genocide being committed by the Order, while others profess that it is to hide the knowledge of something very ancient and incredible that was unearthed in the area that they don’t want us to know.  Either way, the internet is completely regulated and controlled (MasatoToys.com for example had been removed for ‘anti-government sentiment’ and ‘anarchistic tendencies’), and no further definitive facts about this quarantined zone could be obtained.

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To my relief, the gang at GDC explained that despite the global lockdown, there still exist many areas on the planet beyond the NGO the border, and that MMA exists there too, though quite differently.

They would take me there tomorrow…     But first:  UFC 1159!

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The GDC crew in 2046 was rich/big enough to afford a fully-operational hacking tech-team.  They immediately provided me with a fake microchip ID, (this is big business in the underground market), and a free media-pass to accompany them to the event.

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The fights were being held in a massive new arena that held 115,000 people.  Enormous holographic images showcasing the fighters and UFC branding were everywhere;  the company has obviously continued their meteoric rise, and is one of the most popular live events in the entire New Global Order.

GDC helped me understand further;

- UFC is still the absolute monopoly of the sport in the west. However, PRIDE REVIVAL was established in 2027, and is an equal giant for the eastern market (many great fighters from China now occupied the roster). Crossover fights are scheduled several times a year and are some of the biggest draws. No other serious organization exists (unless you count Vadim Finklestein, who is still trying to get a piece of the pie to no avail).

- Dana White is still running the show, although health problems in later life resulted in him transfixing his spine and head onto a robotic self-sustaining apparatus. Very creepy, but everyone agrees he does an amazing job and deserves all the credit for continuing to grow the sport.

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- Paydays for fighters are higher than any other professional athlete.  Entry-level fighters in the UFC are making millions, and the champions live like gods among men.

- There are 17 weight classes.

- Knees to the head on a downed opponent were added in 2020.  There has still never been a single death in the UFC.
- A transgendered alien is currently attempting to gain its license.

- Zuffa is still having trouble getting sanctioned in New York.

It took 1.5 hours to finally get in through security (big questions about my plastic Polaroid camera being a possible bomb), but once everyone was filtered through the screening gates (I saw 3 arrests), the spectacle was almost worth it;

100,000 people packed, with a production value that would make even the most nostalgic PRIDE fan buckle from sheer shock and awe.

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Now, in adherence to Rule #1, I am not divulging the names of any fighters, current champions, winners or losers of the event.  Such information would obviously be too ripe to resist for those susceptible to gambling and greed.

However I can describe what I saw;

The level of athleticism was insane. As the money in the sport grew, so did the training camps and infiltration of the pharmaceutical companies regarding the legalization of performance-enhancing drugs.  What I witnessed what nothing short of the most physically optimized human beings I had ever seen. I had once made a photoshop joke about ‘El Indestructo’, but these guys would have finished poor El in the first round.

Several celebrities and ex-fighters from my time were in attendance, which was very cool to see.

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Women’s MMA is as popular, if not more popular than the Men’s.  Apparently, shortly after Ronda Rousey began the division, it was soon discovered that the general ability for a woman to absorb a punch or kick greatly outweighs their ability to generate knockout power.  In short, women are simply not able to KO each other as easily as the men.  This resulted in a return to reliance on submission technique, and while the men were mostly using sheer strength and power to demolish their opponents, the women evolved into grappling artists of the truest form.

I witnessed 5 Women’s fights during the card, and each one was a display of strategic jiu-jitsu prowess that made Sakuraba vs Newton look like slugs. I witnessed 2 submissions I had never even seen before, and saw several attempts that I could likewise barely comprehend.  (And oh - the current Women’s Bantamweight #2 contender is SMOKIN’, and that’s all I’ll say about that.)

The Main Event of the night was a Cruiser-Weight showdown between the current UFC Champ and the current PRIDE REVIVAL Champ.  But to my dismay, the night ended on a lame note as the UFC Champ used his wrestling to basically lay-and-pray his way to a unanimous decision victory.  I suppose even after 33 years, some things never change.

After the show, we all corralled like sheep again back through the gates. Once outside, I heard a deafening siren began blasting; “Credible Threat! Lockdown! Credible Threat! Lockdown!” Immediately a huge wave of armed SWAT-looking vehicles rushed in from nowhere and began securing the area, guns drawn. Anyone within 50 yards was incapacitated.

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The GDC crew instructed me to run as fast as we could to get the hell out of there.

“Now…” they told me, smiling;  “…we’ll go to where the REAL fights are.”

We got back in Garrett’s Jeep, and he explained it all to me on the way to the border;

After the NGO was declared, there was obvious mass-dissention. A good 5% of the entire population resisted fiercely, and gathered together into communities of protest and defiance (apparently I had pulled a few famous stunts myself).

The NGO, rather than incarcerating or murdering the resisting population, agreed to a land settlement to allow them to exist on. However the proposed territory offered was land-locked, and completely surrounded by NGO authorities (near the Denver airport).  Fully aware of G20-esque policing lures for choking in around demonstrators, the resistance refused the offer, and instead banded together to occupy a 25-mile stretch of pacific coast line. Many skirmishes and arrests occurred, but ultimately the NGO ceased fire in 2021, drew the borders and vacated the land.
Anyone existing there would be completely cut off from all access to banks, medicine, the corporate food supply, electricity or internet.

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The resistance called the NGO territories ‘Babylon’, and they called their new home affectionately ‘No Man’s Land’ – otherwise known as the ‘Anarchy Zones’.  …and that’s where we were going now.  MMA exists there too, and I was told I was about to see one of the year’s raddest cards.

We drove about 6 hrs to the border.  Not the Canada/US border, but THE border: the ‘edge of civilization’ as they called it.  This was no border in any legal or metaphorical terms, but was literally an actual fortified wall like in Gaza, only longer.  - Way longer.

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To get INSIDE the borders of the NGO, you needed a valid ID microchip, a currency #, proof of vaccinations, and a health #. Only those in the system would be allowed in.  The application for status was said to be anywhere from 3-6 years.

However leaving the NGO state as we were about to do was a cinch;  they couldn’t care less about you. The only stipulation is that you are forbidden from taking anything with you.  No vehicles, no technology, obviously no weapons, no food, no medicine, not even seeds. You must give up all material possessions aside from the clothes on your back - after that you are on your own.

So we buried my Time Machine in some bushes, and hoped it would still be there in the morning.

However, I was not willing to part with my Polaroid camera.  So against GDCMMA’s better knowledge, I chose to believe there was still an ounce of humanity in even the people wearing enforcement uniforms, and took the risk to test my theory.

Obviously the young officer did not recognize the Polaroid camera for what it was, so I explained to him it was a plastic toy I was bringing to a child (this was true to a degree; I was to give it to my niece when I returned). He was about to confiscate it - but with a brief moment of eye contact, and the exercising of ‘Time Travel Rule #3’,  he secretly allowed me to smuggle it across. My theory proved true.

I asked him if he wanted come with us.  He told me that he thought about it a lot, (was he crying?) - but chose to stay on duty.

We said our farewells to the remaining members of GDC, and crossed the border into No Man’s Land. Immediately the air smelled cleaner, though it may just have been my imagination.

After 25 minutes of walking, we were approached by a great big modified bus, painted in wild psychedelic art, and hooked up to some bizarre water-contraption I was told was the engine.

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A pack neo-hippie type folk, from the elderly to the very young, welcomed us aboard to take us from Babylon. They cranked ‘Anarchy Camp’ by NOFX [link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXsYWnxq7Wo] on the amplifier full blast, sparked me a huge sun-kissed pure homegrown sativa delight, and we all boogied to the hottest spot in No Man’s Land to see some ‘Anarchy MMA’.

The site chosen for the event was a very cool place;  a fully sustainable eco-community of tens of thousands of people. A sign by the road read; “Welcome home – bring only what you expect to get”.

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At first glance I thought I was entering a primitive hippy ‘Rainbow Gathering’ type scene like I had experienced in my youth. But upon closer inspection it was clear that this was a much more permanent, and sophisticated situation.  I was welcomed warmly by everyone we encountered.

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All homes, vehicles and technology ran on a variety of simple free-energy devices and water-engines. They had their own running water system, hacker internet platform (of which MasatoToys.com was doing well btw), a huge community garden full of all-natural non-GMO food, and a new kind of technology that efficiently transformed all human waste into quality fertilizer. Rings of yearts and tents and solar-paneled houses of all sizes encircled the perimeter in geometrically sacred patterns. Fields of tall natural hemp and cannabis grew freely.

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Thousands of people, from scientists to doctors to craftsmen to artists to shamans and visionaries – all working together for the betterment of the whole. No ticket is required for entry. No official rules, roles, or leaders. There are no fees, and no money is exchanged. The production of services and goods that are valuable to the community reaps its own karmic rewards from the group.

“Its kind of like a river…” said one girl sitting next to me on the bus in that was no older than 12. “It needs to move in its natural state. Sometimes there are things that get caught in the river, but they are eventually pushed into the flow. The flow is always there. It is in this we have learned to put our trust, and work with.”

But there was little time for further cultural indoctrination;

Anarchy MMA’ was about to start.

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The GDC crew explained to me that in the Anarchy Zones, MMA evolved into a completely different phenomenon than in Babylon.  Because there was no money in No Man’s Land, people only fought for the love of it, and nothing else.  Each fighter was free to explore whatever style they found most fascinating, and the pressure to win, or ‘stay relevant’ had become obsolete.

The result of this was not the sea of cookie-cutter athletes like we saw in the UFC, but rather a magical variety of colorful characters, fascinating styles, and unique creative approaches to the concept of martial arts.  Some of the most beloved fighters here only fought every few years, and many had losing records.  But here was not about winning or losing; it was about the fight.  It was about the peaking of mind, body and spirit under the conditions of martial combat. Meditation and spirituality was a part of almost every fighter’s discipline.  Each had their own ways and methods, but the acknowledgement that these types of practices exist at the heart of martial arts was clear, and there was a general confusion how fighters in the UFC could be so effective when such philosophies were so ignored and ridiculed within NGO culture.

The event was promoted by none other than Jeff Monson and Dan Hardy, of whom I barely recognized.

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At the foot of the venue was a small shrine, honoring who they explained to me to be the 3 most recognized martyred founders of Anarchy MMA;

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1. At the top was the sculpted face of Xiu Li, a Himalayan woman who according to Anarchy MMA lore was the greatest martial artist who ever lived. Legends say she could defeat anyone with the ease and grace of a child, no matter the size of the opponent.  “She was perfect,” Dan Hardy explained to me behind his grizzly beard. “if you slowed-down her fights down on video, there wasn’t a single breath or inch of movement that was misused or wasted.  A simple flick of the wrist, or snap of her foot would make fools out of all of us.”  Xiu Li died at the hands of NGO authorities during a surprise military raid and ‘inspection’ of an event in 2026, but her performances and teachings had inspired a whole new generation of fighters.  She single-handedly opened minds throughout No Man’s Land that the true limits of human potential for martial arts was far more amazing than previously thought, and not all based on physical prowess.

2. Below on the shrine, believe it or not, is a sculpture of the Diaz Brothers in ninja outfits. Story goes that during the early years of Anarchy MMA’s inception (of which Nick had apparently coined the term), the brothers fought valiantly to defend the promotion in full ninja gear from an armed military force of over 200 soldiers. Nick and Nate gave their lives in the battle, but in the end forced the army to retreat. Shortly after, the border and agreement between No Man’s Land and Babylon were drafted, and there hasn’t been any invasion of an MMA event since.

3. At the bottom of the shrine is a bust of Joe Rogan.  Apparently, as the NGO slowly became a reality for billions of people around the world, Joe became a key figure in voicing the resistance, and his podcast became a platform for some of the biggest whistleblowers of the time. Upon being fired from the UFC for ‘unacceptable political statements’, Rogan became a full-time activist, gathered together an army of fighters who were compassionate to the resistance, and led the mass MMA exodus out of Babylon. Engraved at the bottom of the shrine was a quote;  “If we have to play your fucked up game and parrot your fucked up lies and ideologies just to practice the sport that we love, then we’ll go do it somewhere else. - Fucktards.”

The sun finally disappeared below the horizon, and the torches were lit.  A crowd of about 9,000 anarchists gathered, and they all soon began the biggest drum-circle jam-session I have ever seen.  If you liked that PRIDE opening ceremony with Nobuhiko Takada and the Tyco drummers, then this would have knocked you right over.  The rhythms rose to a climax, after which a huge fireball shot into the night sky, and the main torches were lit around the ring with enormous cheers.

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To my surprise, the ring was nothing like the Octagon, cage or even ring.  Instead it was more like the platform from ‘Bloodsport’, making for optimal viewing and intimacy with the crowd.  My first thought was; ‘but how do they keep the fighters from falling off?” But I immediately saw in the very first fight that if a fight went over the side, the crowd would just collectively push them back on again, much like how a mosh-pit tosses a crowd-surfer back on stage at punk shows.  You wouldn’t believe me, but it actually worked great, not slowing the pace of the fight at all.
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The sound system, lights, and production equipment were all powered by a home-made-looking water/free-energy device. Apparently the technology is quite simple, and anyone with a bit of left-brained talent can hack one together without too much trouble.

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Entrances were a huge part of the event.  Each fighter would come out in a manner, and costume and music that reflected their own personal style, epiphanies and convictions, and the crowd loved and respected every one.  One even came out in a Sakuraba Mask (different than mine), which made me weep with joy for a good 7 minutes.

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Because of the absence of money or gambling in No Man’s Land, I can safely share with you the details of the fighters competing that night;
I witnessed a fighter who had perfected a style of striking that was so fast and piercing that no one had yet found a way to defend it aside from just getting the hell out of range. During some of his strikes I swear I could have seen flashes of a sort of ‘Red Energy’ (but it could’ve just been the mushrooms we were on).

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I saw a woman fighter who called herself ‘Quasi-Phibian’ who had somehow applied a freaky flexibility she had to the concepts of BJJ. She was abnormally double-jointed in multiple areas, and had calculatingly re-examined how this changed all the known patterns of submission fighting. Her opponent, a surfer with a black belt from 10th Planet Jiu Jitsu (still active), was in utter confusion as the female assassin dis-located herself in all kinds of bizarre positions to eventually lock in what I can only describe as an ‘inverted Twister’. The crowd went nuts.

I also saw a 300-pound 54-year-old Irish man named ‘Brother Eamonn’ who professed to have discovered an inner-energetic immunity to any sort of offensive attack. Indeed, for a full 5 minutes he allowed his opponent to freely strike him, choke him, and attempt to break limbs to absolutely no avail. After the crowd all had a good laugh, he simply grabbed his opponent and hugged him into unconsciousness.

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After the fights, I witnessed a plethora of doctors, healers and shamans attending the injured. I witnessed several cuts miraculously healed by simple oils and plants, and other fighters recover from brutal knockouts to full health in a matter of mere minutes with energy-healing practices. Anarchy MMA has also boasted not a single death, ever.  Opening the floodgates from the narrow allopathic prisons of corporate medicine had obviously unleashed a whole new (or old) world of naturopathic wisdom, and I was witnessing some of the best. Cannabis oil is among the chief medicine, for an enormous variety of ailments.

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After the show they lit a huge bonfire, around which people of all ages began to play a symphony of guitars, flutes, drums and other instruments I don’t even know the names of.  We danced, parties, and celebrated all the fighters from the night, both winners and losers equally. The love and collective consciousness was palpable, everywhere. My future-self showed up, and we had fun freaking out the crowds with my story of Time-Travel and the duplicity of our co-existing in one time and place.

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I stayed up late that night. When the fires had all gone out, the stars and the Milky Way twinkled brilliantly above me. Not a single advertisement had been flashed, not a single dollar had been made, yet I was left more satisfied than after any UFC event I could remember.  We talked of evolution, of power, and nature.  We talked of the cosmos, of consciousness, and the human experience. We talked about Martial Arts, surfing, and family.

We talked of community, of love, and of peace.

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I eventually fell asleep on top of a bus. It was perhaps the best sleep of my life.

The next morning I hitched a ride back to the border. After 75 minutes of being detained, the fake ID chip my friends at GDC had given me worked just as they said, and I was admitted back into the system.  (Amazingly, they didn’t even notice my camera.)

But I was not returning to Babylon;  I found the bushes at the side of the road that we had stashed the Time-Machine in the night before, and prepared to say farewell to this extraordinary vision of the future.  And as I hooked up the electrodes to my head, and packed the bowl with some fresh No-Man’s Land bud stashed in my shoe, I found myself strangely looking forward to going back.

I could see now more than ever that the people in 2013 warning us of an approaching NGO-type future are more right than most would like to believe…  Yet going back I was carrying a new hope, a glimpse that the human race is not yet completely fouled up, and that resistance is NOT futile.

For as I had witnessed totalitarianism at its finest, I had also witnessed a vision of an awakened humanity that turned any cynicism to dust, and created a fertile garden of positive faith that we have within all of us the insight and spirit to still turn it around.

Perhaps if I bring this vision of the future back in time, we can start bringing these values and ideas to life ahead of schedule – before it’s too late.

This is Masato reporting for GDCMMA.com, returning from the year 2046.

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