RSA is dead. RSA remains dead. And we have killed it. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us?
God made the integers; factoring them is the work of man.
If one were to posit that we are in fact living in a simulation of some sort, breaching god would probably look something like a method to gain host bare-metal memory access or code to escape from a virtual machine.