How Wrong They Are

How Wrong They Are

Sirens. Always these fucking sirens. I’ve grown to hate it in my years here. That noise. –That- noise. That noise? What is that noise? Footsteps? Coming up the stairs? Oh god! I have to hide my work. If they see it, it won’t be a surprise! I have to surprise them! What good is a man who can only do the mundane?

What good am I? I’ll tell you what good I am! I am a founding father of modern day science! I took the tinker toys the others were playing with and turned it into a masterpiece! What good am –I-? What good are you, with your sniveling little sheep mentality? You think you hold the world in your hand, but you’ll never know true power. Not like I do.

Those FUCKING sirens again! Oh dear god, shut them up. They think they run this place you know. They slam the doors. They look in through those tiny damned windows as though I’m the one to be studied. Oh but they’ll understand one day. One day they’ll see that they were the ones being studied! They’ll see my genius and realize that whatever thoughts their primitive minds can manage do not even hold a candle to the bright light that is my work.

God I hate that noise. –That- noise. That noise? What is that noise? Crying? Someone sobbing in the hallway? They must have seen my work. My great work. The greatest work of the era, any era. It’s a work of genius I tell you. No one understands. No one ever will. Oh, how I hate these… PEOPLE… I hate them all. PEOPLE think they know the difference between genius and insanity. And tell me, who are –they- to judge? Those who think to put me into the latter category. Who are –they- to judge genius?!

THEY slam the door, those PEOPLE. THEY look in through that little window, fogging it up with their tainted breath.

THOSE PEOPLE ARE A PLAGUE AND I MEAN TO EXTERMINATE THEM!

PEOPLE do not understand me. I am truly a genius you know. A certified Professor. I received my doctorate when I was 22. TWENTY-TWO! I am a genius you know. Studied genetics, provided a cure for the disease of that which is man. They should award me the Nobel for my work.

Some of the papers at the time reported that I claimed I was a God. I could do little but laugh when I first read that. They thought I was mad. I’m not though. I know I am no God. I am better than a God. Any God. I’ve created life, I’ve made death an option, I’ve turned mortality into something obsolete. Oh the things I’ve done would make any God weep with envy.

FUCKING SIRENS! NO SHUT UP! THEY’LL SEE MY WORK!

Mortals cannot understand what I do. They do not, no, -cannot- see the greatness of that which I’ve done. They simper amongst themselves and decide to lock me away for “the good of man kind.” But history will show them for the fools they are. They cannot hide me from the light. They, those… PEOPLE… think they know what is best for me. It is as though the dirt beneath a fingernail is trying to decide what is best for the body. It sounds rather outrageous in those terms doesn’t it? The indignity of it all. Unwashed masses deciding that I cannot perform my work anymore. Without me there would be no them! Who are they to judge?!

WHO ARE THEY TO JUDGE WHAT A GOD ENVIES!?

Those PEOPLE think they know what’s best for me?! -Their- footsteps echo outside my door. –Their- hushed voices spout orders they think I can’t hear. –Their- troops storm lab, my home, my sanctum. Those PEOPLE take from me everything I’ve ever felt for and put me in here! This hole! This place is for imbeciles! -They- should be in here! Not me!

But to be mad would be a release from this pressure I think. To not have to work so hard, to not have to feel obligated to help humanity in all of its failings. To just sit in your own filth, drool in a steady stream down your face… to be completely free from everything.

-They- called me mad. –They- think I’m free. THEY try to place –THEIR- morals on me… -THEIR- emotions and feelings mean little to me. It is as I wish. I do as I wish. I could leave this place any time I wished. But no, I’ll let THEM keep me a little longer. But I’ll laugh. Oh yes, I –will- laugh. I’ll let THEM think they have won. Oh, how wrong they are.

How wrong they are.