MyNameIsSecret
He was always modest, almost to a fault. "That's a nice suit you have on."
"Thanks. But I didn't pick it out."
"Well, you wear it well." What kind of compliment could you give him, really? He was a man--a being--completely without ego, without self. He was an experiment in a branch of science we didn't even know existed until we created him. And we destroyed him.
A spiraling, twisting, turning, vertiginous tale. Two threads of deceit and love, intertwined, never meeting. Downward the ever-turning, up-down-up-down whirl of light/dark confusion/clarity truth/lies, down down down
Up
What is the wavelength of time?
Of love?
Of hope?
How far in between the peaks and valleys does one find meaning? The length of a day, the stretch of an hour, the dip the fall of the heart. The wavelength of life.
"Should I confide in you?"
"It will only result in your ruin."
"This I know."
"Unleash all the secrets of your brain and you flood the perilous ramparts of your sanity."
"This I know, too," he said and then proceeded to speak everything that was on his mind.