You want to enter into a world of pathological brilliance. You are afraid of your past, your present and your future. You consider methodologies but you fail because failure overcomes you. Disappointment is eminent, not imminent.
I am a housefly capable of aerial attacks. I have a splendid track record. Upon notice, I can be bought, rented and even modified for both experimental use or if my superiors feel so inclined, I can also showcase my own dexterity. For a fee.
Like most institutionalized delinquents, I don’t have a passport or a right to vote. I stamp my existence onto this world using wax crayons and a loudspeaker. Words speak louder than actions. I oppose power politics.
Remind me why I created an imaginary anomaly. Displacing space, I only interact with enemies. Friends are particularly irrelevant for my programmed, preemptive existence. An unconscious microbe would probably beat me in an intellectual arm wrestle. Broken dreams and shattered hopes.
But this is who I am. A noise. A buzzing noise.