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I know that I’m not going to rise to the mountaintop to rule with a scepter. The mantle will not become mine. People won’t be looking to me for safety and hope, that’s fine. I’m marred and scarred, wounded and maimed beyond the body. I’m a figure of defiance and retribution. Not even those of my planet, who have looked to me to bring their justice to bear, would really see me as the organizing principle for the time of peace and prosperity. That was my father, back then, and I know the differences that life has made between us. It’ll have to be someone else, after this.

Nothing will be the same. All will grow far beyond me, yes, even the number one public enemy. So much for that, and I bid good riddance to all that I have fought. I can find somewhere to put myself besides stillfrozen stasis; not that that was anything like I expected, but I’m like no one they’ve ever known, guaranteed. I access a different dimension set than the kind of human I was when I was born, with my physiotechnological and neuromental adjustments – not something people should recommend to the ambitious, always a matter of facility in necessity. The benefits of existing as a freak occurrence were impressed on me by the random fortune of young catastrophic survival. I ran with it, and I can continue to do so when there is no use for me. I’m working toward that.

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