...

Do you really like to read stuff? If you want almost anything, it's out there. You could learn about just about anything I or anyone else ever cared enough to document. Every little bit that anyone else cared to preserve for other eyes to find one day. Like those scribes that would copy entire books by hand. They lived a little less so that a work of art could go on to have a life of its own. A pretty little parasite.

If our genetic information carried reasons justifying its own existence instead of the signals that culminate in you, then you simply wouldn't exist. The more context, the less reason there is for it to be there to begin with. How much context does your life get? How much context does my life get? Surely you've never read about every detail, that would take way beyond a lifetime. The more you'd try, the less you'd be.

I want a... I want a perfect little middle ground. Just enough answers that I leave you confused instead of fixing me to be a corpse for consumption. Like... like Old Man Henderson's character biography. So big, so pointless, that I could suddenly know Yiddish and nobody blinks an eye.