None of this was my idea, you should know. What else but my father could have made me become a plumber against my will? It’s always what the father wants in tales like this, isn’t it? The father sacrificing his son’s aspirations on the altar of his own legacy like Abraham offering Isaac up to slaughter.
Those with highly-developed technology are powerless to stop him, and those without technology are powerless anyway...
You’re willing to put up with a lot… until one day you don’t. You snap and say I’ve had enough already. You capitulate, you buy a newer model, so to speak. You’re not even really helping yourself when you do, it’s just so you can hopefully not notice the truth starting right at you: that the world was not built for you. Your home, your city, the people around you, everything, is your enemy.
A pood, by the way, is a Russian unit of weight equal to 16 kg, and I don't have time to convert that into pounds because I'm too busy having a body that can kill a man with one punch.
Meanwhile, Lord Sean made the same donation to the oracles on this day as he did any other: A half bushel of ore, a skein of fine wool, a modest half-bushel of grain. Sean was an oddity among the lords of the island. Failing to develop his two small settlements, only occasionally building roads for what seemed to be the sport of it, he never failed to perform this curious tithe to the old gods each and every day. Once the lords grew impatient with him and asked him the reason behind this curious display of piety. I'm gaining points with the men upstairs, gaining points...
I know what people want and I know how to get it to them. I will tell your story to the world and I will target it to all the right demographics. I will tailor your tales of woe for optimal search engine accessibility. I will encourage the masses to like you, to share you, and to subscribe to you all. I will generate you into content, I will make each and every man woman and child consume you and link to you. Our victory will be heralded by a universal cry of "WTF?!"
I am in unfathomable anguish. Every lucid moment of my life I spend lamenting the perversity and enormous absurdity of my continued existence. I am a mockery of Nature and of the God who willed Nature to be. I am less than the nothing that was before He created the heavens and the earth.
“There are… there are other ways. More decisive ways. I’m warning you… I’m a non-violent man, but I have my limits. I could… I could call professionals...”