They say time is like a wheel, and that if you follow it for long enough you’ll get back to where you started. Sometimes it seems like the wheel has a broken axle, and that time isn’t moving at all: yesterday is the same as today, which is the same as tomorrow.

In the 20s, an Italian musclehead called Charles Atlas started selling a muscle building course. “What’s my job? I turn wimps into men!” His comic ads were in every newspaper – a dweeb gets sand kicked in his face by a bully, who calls him scrawny and steals his girl. Said dweeb then invests in Charles Atlas’s magic muscle course, bulks up, returns to the beach, KO’s the bully, and gets his (somewhat used) girlfriend back.

Atlas’s product (“Dynamic Tension”) was a few flimsy sheets showing you how to do isometric holds and static push-ups and so forth. Slightly useful for improving your cardiovascular system, close to useless for building muscle. Did Atlas himself use Dynamic Tension to build his physique? No. He lifted weights. But he knew there was no money to be made in selling barbells and dumbbells.

Atlas was given to calling himself “the world’s most perfectly developed man” which was not a truth claim but a title. In the 1920s Atlas was the winner of a bodybuilding contest in New York (defeating a motley bunch of piano movers and beer hall bouncers in the process). The contest was a financial failure, and the promoter did not host it again. Since nobody could win the title from Atlas, even when he was a frail geriatric he was still technically “the world’s most perfectly developed man”.

In the sixties there was a similar scam aimed at women called the “Mark Eden Bust Developer”, which purported to increase one’s breast size through exercises. These “exercises” took about 22 hours per week. A guy called Arthur Jones tracked down the creator of this system and asked how he’d arrived at that number. His reply was “Well, you and I both know that a few minutes of such exercise a week will produce all of the results that are possible; but when we told women that, we were getting requests for a refund from about forty percent of the customers. But, since we changed the instructions, we are now getting requests for a refund from only about two percent of the customers.”

Back in the bodybuilding world, a pair of Jewish entrepreneurs called the Weider brothers were climbing to ascendancy (Joe Weider was the husband of legendary pinup queen Betty Brosmer, as well as the man who brought Arnold Schwarzenegger to America). Other people might debate whether they were outright crooks or brilliant entrepreneurs – I think they were both at the same time.

Joe Weider wanted everyone to think that he was a muscular superhunk under his cable-knit sweater, and…er…appearances were against him. So he took a sculpture of a bodybuilder (Robby Robinson), and literally replaced Robby’s head with his own. Meanwhile, Ben Weider tried to give their business a scientific facade by talking about the “Weider Research Clinic”, where supposedly every bodybuilding discovery worth knowing was made. It’s well documented that no such place exists. Bob Gadja once told a funny story about visiting the Weider’s headquarters, seeing a door marked “Weider Research Clinic”, and opening the door. It was a broom closet.

Thankfully nobody falls for these scams any more. Anyone want a 0 calorie energy drink?

It’s times like these that I remember The Matrix Online.

Back in the day, The Matrix was the shit. Yes, nothing says high quality like fecal matter with a definite article, but the movie lives up to hype. Say what you will about Keanu’s acting, or the apparent plot holes (how does Cypher get into the Matrix, why can’t Agent Smith “hack” more bullets into his gun, etc), the Matrix kicks ass and induces excitement deep in my pyloric valve.

The trouble with success is that it can leave you unprepared for subsequent failure. Four years later, we were watching confused critics struggle with the overlong (and unsatisfying) The Matrix Reloaded. Most of them missed the boat with the first movie, and they were anxious not to seem like out-of-touch old fogeys a second time. The glowing reviews for a mediocre sequel must have struck a chord of “we can do no wrong” in the Wachowskis’ heads, and so they plunged ahead with some very questionable media ventures.

The third, final, and shit awful Matrix movie left a lot plot points unexplained, but that was okay, we were told, because the story would continue with The Matrix Online PC MMO. It probably seemed like genius at the time. You’d play in an interactive world of “red-pilled” humans, with the story of Zion and Machine City and the Merovingian continuing on around you – and you could be an active participant, if you liked. It was going to be the wave of the future,  films and videogames becoming an inseparable braid.

It launched. It flopped. And five years later, it was cancelled. At a time where World of Warcraft had ten million subscribers, TMO’s player base had dwindled to just five hundred active accounts. What went wrong?

1. They got Monolith Productions to create the game. I’ve been playing Monolith games since 1997 (not continuously, there were some bathroom breaks), and I speak with authority when I say they’re the most inconsistent company on earth. Blood is good. Claw is good. Get Medieval is bad. Shogo is bad. Blood II is bad. Gruntz is good. Sanity is bad. No-One Lives Forever is good. Aliens versus Predator 2 is good. No One Lives Forever II is bad. Tron 2.0 is good. Contract JACK is bad. FEAR is good. Condemned is bad. And so on. It’s like someone’s tossing a coin.

2. The Matrix Online, by most accounts, falls into the bad column. I haven’t played it, but people tell me that it’s like a spiritual descendant of the two sequel movies – glossy, superficially well put together, but cold, unfocused, and unengaging. Apparently the game had bugs right until the very end. It’s normal for MMOs to launch with bugs. But TMO still looked like an alpha, right up until someone pulled the plug.

It’s an interesting study in the difference between games and movies. The Matrix Online was a bust, and that marked the last time anyone ever made a videogame based off the Matrix. It seems crazy. The Matrix franchise is tailor made for videogame treatment. Many games now copy the Matrix‘s distinctive visual style by default. But with games, you only get one shot.

Meanwhile, the Wachowski’s are sitting on an ever-growing pile of box office bombs, and yet they’ve received a $175 million budget for their upcoming movie. Hollywood still hasn’t caught up to the fact that The Matrix was a fluke and the Wachowskis will probably never do anything worthwhile ever again.

A sign that you’re a good satirist is that you can satirize something that hasn’t happened yet.

Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal does lots of legwork these days, from gaming to contemporary social movements. The sentiments are so universal and timeless that they can be fitted over almost anything.

But what’s even more striking is when a satirist successfully anticipates a person. Eerie, too, especially when you see someone you know walking around in the pages of a book written a hundred years ago. Some say that Marquis de Sade has written into his books everyone you’ve ever met in your life. Others attribute this feat to Mark Twain. Neither Sade or Twain personally give me that feeling, but someone who does is John Kennedy Toole in his book The Confederacy of Dunces.

This book, written in 1969, contains a character called Ignacius J Reilly. He (as has been noted by others) is almost a perfect pastiche of 21st century blogger Mencius Moldbug. They’re both “reactionaries”, motivated by what they see as the decline of the modern world (though Moldbug thinks we need more conservatism, while Ignacius thinks we need more geometry). They’re both very long winded, with a high opinion of their own intellects. Both appear to be either far behind the times, or far ahead of them. They even share a liking for Boëthius.

The book also contains a female character called Myrna Minkoff, who is a parody of Jewish feminism. I’m not as impressed by this. Toole was a literature teacher at a college in New York, and one assumes the studentry furnished him with a lot of material when creating Minkoff.

CS Lewis’s “Planet” trilogy also comes to mind. There’s a “jerk atheist” figure (MacPhee) who comes across as contemporary. And it’s no secret that Weston was drawn from famed geneticist JBS Haldane, who embodied what Lewis saw as the darkest chapters of the science-driven future (paranthetically, the real JBS Haldane could apparently talk while inhaling air, allowing him to continuously monologue without pause for breath. A shame Lewis didn’t give his fictional Weston that trait, or he would have been the most loathed villain in all of literature, bar none.) Richard Devine could be likened to your favourite sociopathic hedge fund manager.

Obviously, there’s a host of attempted self-made prophecies, where people explicitly model themselves on someone from a book (like John Galt, or Jesus Christ), usually with unsatisfactory results. Sometimes people try to will entire social edifices into existence from novels – such as Palahniuk’s Fight Clubs, and John Norman’s sadomasochism-based Gor lifestyle.

True things often end up as lies in the pages of a book. But if you look closely, it’s not hard to find the reverse – a fictional story that people in real life are turning into the truth.