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An excerpt:
"It’s not that I don’t like people. Well, I don’t, but I don’t hate them either. I don’t want to kill them or escape from them. I fear isolation, I think it would drive me mad. If I were to live in a cabin, way out in the country somewhere, I would surely lose it. Begin talking to myself, becoming more and more lost in my brain. Inventing new worlds, words, creatures. Unable to snap back into it. No, I fear isolation. I like to keep people near, even if I don’t want talk to them. I just need them to be around, in case I do want to talk to them. In case I need a reality check. I prefer to live amongst them, a mole. A hidden parasite, leaching off their society with no intention of contributing anything of my own. A drunk, high, psychotic zombie, living amongst the herd of Land Mammals. A secret agent, like agent Finch. Living a false reality, because it’s necessary. To study and analyze the trends, for the coming Athletic Allegiance Wars. The Class Wars. The Alien Invasion, Civil War II, World War III, whatever it is. Whatever terrible, horrifying, sadistic fate the Gods have in store for us, their ant farm of pleasure, their litter box called Earth. "
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