Whoever you are, whatever you believe, whatever you promote, wherever you station or locate yourself, you still have not demonstrated your worth. You hide your face, your being, your glance, the window into the soul you pretend you have.
But you are invincible, impregnable, open to nothing and no one.
You have no name, no history, no legacy: just the knowledge. And people who get what they want through the differential of power they own and manifest and rub our noses in do interest me so very little.
What you do is the easy way.
You have no courage because you are fearless, and little more.
You are neither black nor white; tall nor short; human nor inhuman. You fail even to achieve the capacity of vacuum.
You are not even an absence of an absence.
And this saddens me, because you would be something quite different, something much better, something worth knowing, something worth fighting for, something even worth dying for; and if you were that different I talk of, I would gladly have you in return.
Yes. I think I would.
But as is, you are not even capable of a cheap shot.
You just chip your way resolutely through your grandiose plan; your arcane numbers, your algorithms of incontrovertible math[s].
And in the meantime, enjoy the power it affords you.
As you were. As you will be. As you must.