The Immortal Reason

By D.J. Koovi

Troubled by their lack of self-awareness, an alien race of thinkers known as "Reasons" set out on a cosmic expedition to find the answer to life's toughest conundrum: The Existential Problem. But what seems like a promising discovery on Planet Earth quickly becomes a deadly struggle of global proportions as the hostilities of the human world turn this otherwise peaceful alien race into a ruthless killing force. Mankind eventually finds itself under the oppressive rule of Reason-kind with the exception of a few who manage to escape with their freedoms. And as the last free humans on the planet--an American counter-terrorism expert alongside his brilliant (and super-foxy) engineer, an Islamic apostate with a newfound perspective on God, a rebellious college dropout with deep ties to the Chinese criminal underworld, and an Argentinian rock musician and his entourage of pot-smoking eccentrics--come together to fight their extraterrestrial invaders, an unexpected Reason newcomer to Earth takes them by surprise. This one, however, being more self-aware than the others, is better suited to solve the Existential Problem, which in turn could lead to the liberation of the oppressed human race.

The Immortal Reason is more than just a book--it is a meta-fictional work that encompasses many literary genres from global espionage to intergalactic romance. Seriously, this uniquely-written novel has it all, including short essays on key philosophical subjects that are central to the main characters that drive its multidimensional narrative. Every essay is rendered directly from the mind of a main character in order to provide as detailed and intimate a profile of such. The cosmic voyager First Reason makes its introduction to the readers by reflecting on the Existential Problem, or the totality of mysteries surrounding the inherent meaning of life (or lack thereof). The Islamic apostate Sheikh Abdul Malik first ponders over the limits of religion before establishing himself as the wisest voice on the topics of spiritual awareness and oneness with The Divine (or what he believes to be the real God). The counter-terrorism expert Donovan "Shark" Patterson enters the plot by reminding us that power and control are inescapable aspects of reality, and to survive in such a dog-eat-dog reality, one must learn how to play the "political game." The scholarly rebel Nǚshēng rants vehemently about the importance of anti-establishmentarianism (yes, that is an actual word) before cementing herself as a character that is not to be fu**ed with. As for everything else in the universe that is best understood in an altered state of consciousness, the darkly-humored Baplo Garcia sheds light on how marijuana can literally save lives as he shows why an absurdist like himself belongs in a serious book like this one. Old or young, rich or poor, human or alien...The Immortal Reason satisfies all who crave a good, original read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667859170

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© 2022 D.J. Koovi

ISBN: 978-1-66-785917-0

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Arrival of The Idea

1.1

3,000,000,000 Starpowers

First Reason: Reason of all Reasons

The Idea and the Existential Problem

Reason Society

The Idea’s Antithesis

The God Fallacy

Ideological Imperialism

An Ideological Conglomerate

Psychic Energy

In Pursuit of Higher Reason

1.2

The Smartest Dumbass in the Room

America’s Most Trusted Enemy

She-Tesla

A Sexy Problem Solver

The Political Game

The Geopolitical Game

The Most Hated Country

An Unworldly Threat

1.3

Confessions of an Apostate

From Identity Crisis to Spiritual Awakening

Ego Death and The Human Condition

My Acquaintance with the Divine

Divine Potential and My Light

A Test of Faith

1.4

A Sister with Thousands of Brothers

Boosting China’s Modest Crime Rate

The Evils: Makers of Heroes and Villains

Storming of Qincheng

1.5

Serenade for the A Train

I Love Weed: An Autobiography…Sort Of

It’s the End of the World

Chapter 2: Rise and Fall of The Idea

2.1

No Planet for Rationality

Ideological Warfare

First Fallacy: The Fallen Reason

2.2

Human Aliens

Double-U Double-U: The Threequel

The God Revolution

2.3

Pure Egoism

The Curse Isn’t Broken

Pure Enlightenment

2.4

LRC

A Well-Timed Mutiny

Let the Dragons Take Their Place

2.5

Live from Córdoba

Back Where It All Ended

The Album About Everything

Chapter 3: Arrival of a New Idea

3.1

New Head of Security

An Empty Mind

New Top Priority

3.2

Unreclaimed

Agent 101

Coach’s Decision

3.3

Divine Egoism

The Magical Prophet

Eternal Wisdom

3.4

Retaliation Day

How to Make a Superhero

Superheroes Fight Alone

3.5

Squiggly

Victoria’s New Groom

Little Bomb, Big Boom

Chapter 4: Collision of Ideas

4.1

Counter-ideology

VX

Matter Over Mind

4.2

Tag-Team

Sweet Home Puerto Rico Trench

Ghost Under the Sea

4.3

Rih Almawt

Reunited in the Heavens

Shula

4.4

Dragon Egg

PB 1000

End Wars

4.5

The One

Children of the Sewers

Comeback Kid

Chapter 5: Birth of a New Idea

100,000 Starpowers

Psychic Energy Polarity

The Immortal Free Reason

Idea

noun

any conception existing in the mind as a result of mental understanding, awareness or activity.

Chapter 1

Arrival of The Idea

1.1

Every idea seeks to address a problem.

—First Reason

3,000,000,000 Starpowers

A request for my attention distracted me while I was deep in thought.

First Reason? inquired an agitated mind, searching for me in the outer layer of Planet Reason’s atmosphere.

This better be good, I replied, revealing my location to be amongst the rocky debris that encircles the planet.

Forgive me for disturbing you Reason of all Reasons, but…, before the mind that accosted me finished expressing itself, I decided to give it a piece of my own.

What’s your rank, Reason? I asked, curious as to where my unmannered subordinate stands relative to its leader.

898,431st, it responded.

Considering how low you rank, you have some nerve bothering me during my hours of contemplation, I scolded, keeping my eyes shut so I won’t lose complete focus.

Pardon me Reason of all Reasons, but Second Reason ordered me to relay an important message to you, it followed.

And due to what extenuating circumstances does my second-in-command trouble me at such an untimely hour? I asked.

One of our distant planets in the southernmost galaxy picked up a potent trail of psychic energy. We predict its source may be well over…, 898,431st paused momentarily before finishing its thought. 3,000,000,000 starpowers.  Upon receiving that information, I opened my eyes, which were partially blinded by a nearby star, and fixed a squinty gaze upon the lowly Reason that stands before me.

How many starpowers? I inquired, daring 898,431st to repeat the ridiculous number it conveyed to me.

3,000,000,000 Reason of all Reasons, it confirmed. I took a minute to fully process this staggering datum.

Second Reason told you this? I asked, verifying the source of the alarming news before determining how to respond to it.

Correct, replied 898,421st.

Tell it to assemble the elite Reasons, I’ll be joining them shortly…and hurry, I commanded.

Yes, Reason of all Reasons, complied 898,431st, racing back to the planet to carry out my orders.

3,000,000,000 starpowers? If that doesn’t net The Truth, nothing will, I thought to myself.

First Reason: Reason of all Reasons

Across the trillions of worlds I conquered over the eons past, I hold a most prestigious title that bestowed upon me an air of intellectual superiority: First Reason. This is a title that asserts precisely what it means, that my reason is second to none in the universe.

In order for one to comprehend the validity of my intellectual preeminence, one must first understand the culture of my birthplace, the planet Reason, and its enduring customs. Planet Reason is home to an ageless tradition that has long attempted to clarify a mystery that has persisted since time immemorial: life, or as my ancestors so bluntly describe it, a passage through spacetime that, despite being driven by a need for survival, presents no logical cause as to why it must be sustained. Planet Reason considers the enigma of life to be of the highest priority because we Reasons, its denizens, have evolved to question the significance of our existence. As our ancestors spent countless millennia ruminating on the meaning of life, they ultimately reached a consensus that the physical universe is nothing more than a ubiquitous abstraction. This, however, is not to say that they considered matter to be non-existent, for our forethinkers simply realized that by asking the question What is matter? one inevitably finds themselves pondering over physical entities that give little to no insight into how they came to exist or the source of their existence. In other words, key questions such as What am I? or Where did I come from? are still left unanswered. Because of this, we Reasons consider only one thing to be concrete: the mind. We know it is the mind that ascribes meaning to everything in the universe because if it didn’t exist, even matter, as tangible as it may be, would suddenly cease to be real. And as First Reason, Reason of all Reasons, I am the most reasonable proof of this argument.

The Idea and the Existential Problem

As Planet Reason revved up its efforts to solve the enigma of life, it birthed an objective ideology that seeks to reduce the material world to a void of nothingness whose qualities are dependent on the mind of its observer. This ideology is what we call The Idea. The Idea is exactly what it sounds like—an idea; however, as suggested by the definite article, The Idea takes precedence over your commonplace mental conception because, unlike all other ideas, it addresses a problem of superlative importance: the existential problem.

Every idea seeks to address a problem. When a thought is created, such is done in response to a specific stimulus, or problem, that compels the mind to formulate an appropriate response. And for us Reasons, no stimulus is more compelling than the existential problem, the fact that we live in a world devoid of empirical meaning as to what we are and why we are in it. Prior to conceiving The Idea, we Reasons spent incalculable ages stringing together logical thought after logical thought, expecting such linear reasoning to lead us to the answers we sought. But no matter what thought we arrived at, the existential problem prevailed, proving itself to be impenetrable by our sharpest minds. Therein lies the plight of Planet Reason: in its persistence to find the missing pieces to life’s inscrutable puzzle, it threw itself in a cycle of futile contemplation wherein disappointment is a sure outcome.

Some may wonder why we Reasons do not yield to the existential problem; Well, if you cannot deduce the significance of life, why not just give up? This is a thoughtful proposition, but such capitulatory alternative is most problematic for one reason: it’s a rationale for suicide. From a logical standpoint, ignoring the existential problem is the equivalent of resigning to a meaningless existence. And resigning to a meaningless existence is tantamount to killing oneself. That is not to say that we necessarily oppose suicide; after all, if there’s no logical incentive to prolong a pointless existence, then why prolong it? But before we can accept suicide as the solution to the existential problem, we must first be convinced that life truly serves no clear purpose. But ironically, there is no empirical proof of that either. Committing suicide under the impression that life is meaningless when its meaning could just be elusive would be a self-defeating act. Because of this, we Reasons cannot relinquish our grip on the existential problem, even if our efforts to solve it have been ineffective thus far. 

Having considered the possibility that our own intellectual limitations could be the issue, we Reasons created The Idea as a response that serves not as a permanent solution to the existential problem, but instead as a provisional one. The Idea is not a conclusion, but a hypothesis that assumes that reality does not exist outside of the mind, that life is merely an interminable dream…until proven otherwise. It may not satisfy our curiosity, but The Idea, as far as we know, is the most fitting response to the existential problem there is. And it will remain as such until the day logic capable of refuting it emerges, if that day ever comes.

Reason Society

Planet Reason prides itself on being a society of the highest intellectual standard. From the day a young Reason is old enough to think independently, it is admitted to a formal institution known as the Reason Academy. During its time at the Reason Academy, the young Reason is taught to regard The Idea as the pinnacle of intellectualism, sternly pushed by certified disciplinarians to derive all self-worth from its ability to support it via logical deductions. After completing the formative stages of the Reason Academy, the young Reason must then spar intellectually against other young Reasons to prove that its understanding of the supposed meaninglessness of life exceeds that of its peers. And as the young Reason competes in a series of ritualistic debates, each of its victories and losses are tallied by instructors who act as moderators.

Our society, Reason Society, ranks its citizens on the basis of how effectively they embody The Idea. By the time a young Reason reaches maturity, it will have left the Reason Academy with a record that reflects where it stands in Reason society. If it received a poor record, having lost too many debates against its peers during its time at the Reason Academy, it will fall at the bottom of the Reason caste system, where minds that most poorly represent The Idea predominate. But if it earned a stellar record, having accrued many wins and very few losses while attending the Reason Academy, then it will rightfully earn its place among the elite of Reason society, a preeminent class fit for minds who symbolize The Idea with the greatest degree of persuasiveness. If a Reason graduates from the Reason Academy holding the same record as another Reason, a rare scenario considering the million-plus debates it must undergo as a pupil, it is customary for the two to contend in a decisive debate for the higher ranking. Most Reasons fall within our society’s common class upon leaving the Reason Academy, earning a numerical rank ranging from 300,000th to 600,000th out of the approximate one million that comprise the Reason societal hierarchy. Because I won every single debate I partook in during my time at the Reason Academy, I’ve proven myself to be a Reason of unrivaled intellect, earning the highest numerical rank in our society as a result; hence, First Reason.

As First Reason, I act as The Idea’s chief representative, a responsibility that charges me with ensuring that it is truly the best universal response to the existential problem. This is a major task, for if somewhere out in the vast cosmos there exists logic that trumps The Idea, that is to say the actual solution to the existential problem, then this paramount truth must be discovered at all cost.

The Idea’s Antithesis

There exist many truths: the universe is continuously expanding, light travels 299,792 kilometers per seconds, fire radiates heat, etc. We know that these are truths because any mind can observe them and arrive at the same logical conclusion. Ideas and truths differ in the sense that the former manifest as thoughts and the latter as empirical phenomena. And if The Idea is the highest of ideas, the one to most logically address the existential problem, then The Truth is, in turn, the highest of truths, the only one to logically satisfy the existential problem.

I say The Truth because the solution to the existential problem would not exist as an idea, or the product of one’s intellect. I know this because reasoning, an act that is strictly cerebral, does not suffice in unveiling the meaning of life; therefore, if The Truth is real, it will have to take the form of logic that exists independent of the mind. And as First Reason, it is my duty to lead my planet on its quest to capture this elusive reality that can best be described as The Idea’s antithesis, the only logic that refutes our assumption of life being meaningless. 

In order to achieve this crucial objective, I’ve ordered all denizens of Planet Reason, about a million Reasons or so, to seek out other worlds capable of reasoning. I figured if The Truth cannot be found on our own planet, then the best course of action is to explore others that may be in possession of it. And if we ever discover such a world, then we Reasons would be more than pleased to have The Idea invalidated at its hands. Having developed the ability to sense psychic energy emitted from planets light years away, we can effectively pinpoint which ones are inhabited by minds whose reasoning faculties are advanced enough to grasp The Idea. It makes sense that only a world logical enough to comprehend our stance on the existential problem is at the best disposition to refute it. Unfortunately, although we have made contact with such worlds, trillions for that matter, never could they offer logic that challenges The Idea, let alone refutes it. To our chagrin, we Reasons are far too intellectually superior for any other world to oppose us. As a result, The Idea’s antithesis, to this day, remains an immaculate reality whose whereabouts are unknown to even the most distant galaxies.

The God Fallacy

In addition to being destitute of The Truth, all of the planets we visited on our search for The Idea’s antithesis lacked any sort of provisional response to the existential problem. Each and every one of them possessed ideas that attempt to unravel the mystery of life, but their logic pertaining to such was riddled with flaws. These worlds were not necessarily illogical, but their efforts to logically address the existential problem exposed many shortcomings in their reasoning. These shortcomings took the form of ideas that mimicked The Truth—mere fallacies that posed as solutions to the existential problem.

One of the more prevalent fallacies we noticed was that of god. To many of these foreign worlds, the solution to the existential problem is a fabricated truth that, despite offering no directly observable evidence of its existence, is unquestioningly regarded as The Idea’s antithesis. As previously mentioned, I do not dismiss the existence of The Truth, for doing so is to discount a reality that could be elusive and not necessarily unreal. But before I can accept The Truth, I must first have at my disposal logic that empirically affirms its existence. And god, in spite of what other worlds may think, is no such logic.

Prior to venturing out into the other worlds, never before had I fathomed an idea as illogical as that of god. In all the eons I spent on Planet Reason, never has such baseless notion ever come to my knowledge. Not even a bottom caste Reason could conceive such fallacy as doing so runs counter to its rational disposition. The god fallacy soon became a recurring theme throughout our cosmic search for The Idea’s antithesis. Seems like no matter what planet I and the subordinate Reasons landed on, some artificial variation of The Truth awaited us. But as the dictates of reason suggest, not even god can refute The Idea.

If there is one thing I learned from our encounters with the other worlds, it is that The Idea is in great demand across the cosmos. When asked to explain the thought process behind their ideas pertaining to the existential problem, especially that of god, many of the other worlds admitted to making deductive leaps, arriving at conclusions that were the equivalent of unfounded assertions. It never occurred to me that the reason why otherwise reasonable minds would knowingly conceive an idea that defies logic is due to a burning need to satisfy the existential problem.

Like Reason society, many of the minds we met on foreign planets understood the implication of yielding to the existential problem—an endorsement of suicide. But unlike Reason society, these minds lacked the discipline to adhere to logical thought at all times, especially when it does not net satisfying answers. So under the threat of submitting to a meaningless existence, they committed the capital offense of superstition, creating an idea whose goal is not to alleviate ignorance, but instead to mask it.

But despite their self-imposed delusion, if there is one thing that we Reasons realized about the other worlds, it is that they had merely shunned reason, not forgone it. So when asked them to pit their ideas against The Idea, they welcomed the challenge, knowing that the better logic would ultimately prevail. And surely enough, when their notions of god and the likes came tumbling down in the face of pure, unadulterated logic, not only did they renounce them, but they willfully embraced The Idea, making them newly recruited Reasons in the process. These ideological conversions were catalyzed not only by our superior reasoning, but also by the mental relief The Idea brings to those who struggle with the existential problem. By neither denying nor accepting the existence of The Truth, and by accepting life for the ostensible absurdity that it is, these minds were freed from the tug of self-deception (superstition) and self-defeatism (suicide). 

Ideological Imperialism

So far, my cosmic search for The Idea’s antithesis can be summed up in one word: bittersweet. Bitter because the more superstitious worlds we Reasons stumbled upon, the slimmer our prospects of finding The Truth became. Sweet because the more illogical responses to the existential problem we came across (i.e. god), the more opportunities we saw to extend The Idea, our ideological emblem, across the universe. Ironically, what started out as a series of disappointments eventually transformed into a fortuitous occasion for Planet Reason.

By the time we visited our billionth planet, our search for The Idea’s antithesis became an all-out campaign to recruit worlds from all corners of the universe. This is not to say that we gave up on finding The Truth, for if it is somewhere out there then we Reasons are still very much eager to apprehend it. But seeing as the previous 999,999,999 planets we landed on were just as oblivious of it, I saw fit to redirect our efforts towards an objective that seems more beneficial to not only ourselves, but a universe that is apparently having trouble dealing with its existence.

Now whenever we venture out into a new world, our primary goal is no longer to enlist its help in obtaining The Truth, but to convert it to The Idea. Instead of entreating other planets to aid us on our quest to find The Idea’s antithesis, we now engage them directly in debate knowing that the probability of their logic beating ours is slim to none. And if by some infinitesimal chance their reasoning pertaining to the existential problem proves superior to ours, then surely it will manifest as The Truth, and we Reasons will gladly espouse it. But if our logic proves superior to theirs, as was the case with every planet we encountered thus far, then they will submit to The Idea, making their world an extension of Planet Reason.

Unlike spoken words, intellectualism is a language fluent to all rational minds; therefore, when one rational mind engages another in intellectual debate, there are no ambiguities, lost translations and the likes that can distort the ideological exchange taking place. This is why we Reasons are so successful in claiming new worlds throughout the cosmos. Since the Idea is insofar as logic can prove the most valid response to the existential problem, foreign ideas that attempt to refute it are quickly disproved, compelling the minds that once upheld them to surrender to it. 

By the time our intergalactic exploration reached the 100 million light years mark, The Idea claimed in upwards of 100 galaxies, 10 trillion planets, and enough minds to generate 1,000 starpowers (more on this unit of energy later). The Idea went up against countless minds from the remotest parts of the universe, and not once did it topple, proving my rank as First Reason to be one that holds true far beyond my home planet. The same can be said for the other million native Reasons seeing as they are the original constituents of The Idea. As the Reason Empire continues to expand across the universe, so do my efforts to find The Truth. And with so many new subservient minds under my command, my cosmic campaign to find this elusive reality is now more resourceful than ever before.

An Ideological Conglomerate

The logistics of my intergalactic hunt for The Truth have changed greatly since it began. Initially, I instructed specific subdivisions of Reasons to target specific planets depending on the level of psychic energy they emitted. If a planet gave off low levels of psychic energy, indicating that the minds thereon have a below average capacity to reason, then a brigade of low-ranking Reasons, no more than a 1,000 constituents of the Reason lower caste, would be commanded to engage it in debate. Because most of the worlds we discovered fell in this category, low-ranking brigades were dispatched more often than higher ranking ones. If a planet outputted considerable levels of psychic energy, meaning that its capacity to reason is above average, albeit not equal to ours, then a brigade of intermediate rank, no more than 500 constituents of the Reason common class, would be given orders to attend to it. Of the trillions of planets we encountered, only about five percent fell under this category. And in the unthinkable event that we discover a planet whose psychic emissions match or even exceed our own, then only an elite task force comprised of the 100 highest ranking Reasons, a company that includes myself, would have jurisdiction over it.

As The Idea grew into a dominant ideology of near-universal scope, I became more comfortable dispatching brigades no greater than single digits in size, confident that even a handful of low-ranking Reasons could claim the most colossal planet the cosmos has to offer. And as these streamlined brigades did just that, conquering sizeable worlds with little to no effort, I eventually mustered enough confidence to assign one Reason to every new planet we discovered. With so many Reasons, both original and proselytized, claiming entire worlds by their lonesome, The Idea flourished into an interplanetary empire expanding nearly as fast as the universe itself.

A very explosive chain reaction now unfolds every time we Reasons come across a new world. First, a single Reason of any rank is dispatched, instructed to convert the newfound planet to The Idea. Second, the newfound planet, in compliance with reason, submits to The Idea, becoming an extension of Planet Reason. Third, the minds that inhabit the newfound planet, having become newly recruited Reasons, seek out other planets with the intention of converting them to The Idea. Fourth, since one single representative of The Idea suffices in carrying out this objective, if the newfound planet accommodates, say, 1,000,000 newly recruited Reasons, it can convert 1,000,000 other planets to The Idea by itself in one go. And fifth, as more worlds are claimed by us Reasons, this chain reaction increases in magnitude, spreading The Idea from galaxy to galaxy like a cosmic plague.

Planet Reason has thrived into nothing short of an ideological conglomerate. And as The Idea continues to proliferate exponentially, the odds of encountering logic powerful enough to refute it appear increasingly unlikely. Then again, in this infinite universe of infinite possibilities, unlikely is just another way of saying until the day.

Psychic Energy

Planet Reason’s metric system consists of a single unit of energy that governs our perception of reason: starpower. As previously mentioned, we Reasons have the ability to sense the psychic energy emitted by other worlds endowed with the capacity to reason. If a world is comprised of minds with a high capacity for reasoning, then we sense high starpower value or SPV. If a planet consists of minds with a low capacity to reason, then we sense low SPV. We consider the precise measurement of a planet’s psychic energy to be irrelevant unless it’s equal to or greater than our own; that is to say, equal to or greater than one starpower. Using Planet Reason as a reference point, one starpower is equal to the collective psychic energy of native Reasons. So if the psychic energy of a planet were to exceed one starpower, a phenomenon we have yet to witness, such would suggest that it possesses a more powerful collective intellect than we Reasons do; therefore, it would be better suited to find The Idea’s antithesis than we are.

The etymology of starpower can be broken down into two parts: star and power. Planet Reason is considered by many worlds to be a pseudo-star since it’s primarily made up of hydrogen and helium (though it lacks the mass needed to undergo thermonuclear reaction). And of course, on Planet Reason, as our caste system indicates, reasoning capacity is synonymous with power, which is why Reasons possessing higher intellects are awarded greater status than those with lower intellects. Essentially, starpower is just a technical way of saying Planet Reason’s reasoning power. So if a given planet emits more than one starpower, it has a greater ability to reason than we native Reasons do.

Starpower has a qualitative and quantitative dimension. For example, let us consider two hypothetical worlds of equal starpower: Planet A and Planet B. If Planet A consists of 1,000 minds and Planet B 100,000, that means for every single mind on  Planet A, it takes 100 minds from Planet B to match the same level of psychic energy. This is, of course, assuming the individual minds on the respective planets are of equal reasoning capacity. Simply put, the starpower of a planet is influenced by the quantity of minds thereon as well as the quality of their individual intellects.

Every world that we Reasons encountered during our search for The Truth emitted starpower that registered in decimal numbers too small to bother noting. The most foreign psychic energy we recorded to date came from a planet whose name translates into A New Hope at .0000001 starpowers. Mathematically explained, it would take 10,000,000 New Hopes to generate as much psychic energy as Planet Reason. This surely puts things in perspective as to how intellectually superior we Reasons are to other worlds throughout the cosmos.

Individual minds, of course, give off psychic energy, although such is usually too insignificant to bother converting to starpower; nonetheless, it can be done. On Planet Reason, a world inhabited by approximately one million minds, I account for .05 percent of the psychic energy; hence, I possess .05 starpowers. Thus, it would take 20 First Reasons to create one starpower. Second Reason, my highest ranking subordinate, comes in at .001 starpowers; therefore, its reasoning capacity would have to increase 1000 fold to generate one starpower. Third Reason produces .0002 starpowers, which means it would need to replicate itself 5000 times to emit one starpower. As the pattern suggests, the lower a Reason ranks, the more its reasoning capacity has to be multiplied to equal one starpower.

As previously illustrated, when individual minds operate synergistically, they give off more psychic energy, thereby creating more starpower. This is no surprise, for the more minds working together to solve a problem, the more reasoning power being expended. It is imperative for us Reasons to recruit as many minds as possible because the more worlds we claim for our ideological conglomerate, the more starpower we amass. And the more starpower we amass, the better our chances of ever solving the existential problem. After voyaging in excess of one billion light years throughout the cosmos, we conquered over 100 trillion planets, amassing no less than 10,000 starpowers along the way. So when rumors of a world generating 3,000,000,000 starpowers surfaced, I dismissed them, incredulous at the idea of a planet possessing so much psychic energy that greatly surpasses eons of ideological imperialism. But when 10,000 starpowers proves insufficient in finding The Truth, even one as logical as myself can be tempted to give credence to hearsay. 

In Pursuit of Higher Reason

Never before have I so seriously considered the prospect of solving the existential problem.

100th? inquired Second Reason as it concluded roll call, ensuring that the elite task force of Reasons I assembled is in full attendance.

Present, answered 100th Reason. I walked through the crowd of high-ranking Reasons gathered before me as I prepared to deliver a monumental address, staring into  their stony gazes that were averted just enough to avoid my own.

As many of you already know, I received news from one of our distant territories in the southernmost galaxy about a potential lead to a world much more powerful than ours. Although we picked up a trail of psychic energy registering at 3,000,000,000 starpowers, there is a possibility that it could simply be the output of a distant supercluster comprised of innumerable planets. If this turns out to be the case, then we need not concern ourselves with encountering logic greater than our own, for individually these planets would not pose a challenge. With that being said, however, I have been informed by a reliable source that this trail of psychic energy vibrates with a distinctive frequency, implying it’s the product of minds that inhabit the same planet. So in the highly probable event that it’s coming from a singular world, I want us to engage it with all of our intellectual might, using our most persuasive arguments to test if its reason is truly as powerful as it seems. Reasons, this what we live for. It’s historical moments like this one that have propelled our society to the zenith of intellectualism. As the masters of an ideology that stood the test of time, an ideology that continues to conquer galaxies far and wide, an ideology that continues to single-handedly address the greatest problem to face this universe, we must give testament to The Idea’s logical supremacy because it’s the best response to the existential problem the mind can possibly conceive. So brace yourselves as we embark on a most pivotal exodus that is sure to culminate with the greatest debate you’ve ever been a part of. Our destination is estimated to be 250,000 light years away, which should give us more than enough time to gather our thoughts as we travel the depths of outer space.

The elite Reasons entered their space capsules once my address ended . And right as we were ready to launch into flight, I decided to share one last thought. By the way Reasons, if this world does succeed in refuting The Idea, not only proving it to be useless, but our minds to be illogical, our culture to be backwards, our empire to be fanciful, our ancestors to be fools, our achievements to be worthless, and my rank as First Reason to be unfounded, then we shall gladly submit to The Truth, and be forever thankful it freed us from the shackles of our own existence. Now off we go in pursuit of higher logic. After navigating a quarter-million light years through space, the sight of a faint blue dot marked our planetary destination.

We’re more than 700,000 kilometers away from the planet, and yet its psychic energy keeps increasing, observed Second Reason. At this rate, it will definitely surpass 3,000,000,000 starpowers.

My SP-meter reads ‘3,200,000,000,’ and rising, noted Third Reason, referring to the special device we Reasons utilize to gauge and detect psychic energy. This world is far stronger than we predicted.

How could such a powerful world go unnoticed by us for so long? I thought to myself.

What is it called? inquired Third Reason.

The planet? How is anyone supposed to know? asked Second Reason. This is our first time seeing it remember?

You mean to tell me no one here knows anything about a world of such intellectual caliber? followed Third Reason.

There is another planet a few light years away from here that claims to have visited this one some time ago, mentioned a subordinate Reason.

How do you know that? asked Third Reason, beating the rest of us to the question.

I made a quick stop earlier to familiarize myself with this galaxy, replied the subordinate Reason.

You could have gotten lost. Don’t stray away from the formation again, got it? I reproved.

Yes, Reason of all Reasons, replied the subordinate Reason.

So what did you learn? inquired Third Reason, still curious about the peculiar planet we are closing in on.

It’s atmosphere consists mostly of nitrogen and oxygen, answered the subordinate Reason. The planet itself is rocky.

Tell me more, but spare me the geology, replied Third Reason.

Well, you wanted to know the name right? ensued the subordinate Reason.

We should be concentrating on the upcoming debate Reasons, not discussing trivial matters, I commanded.

Yes, Reason of all Reasons, responded all my subordinates simultaneously.

But I am curious as to what the planet is called, I told the subordinate Reason.

From what I learned, the minds that inhabit it named it ‘earth,’ it answered.

Earth? commented Third Reason. Can’t say I expected that.

What did you expect? inquired Second Reason.

I don’t know, responded Third Reason. Something more logical I guess.

Stay focused Reasons, I commanded again, insisting that my elite task force concentrate on its truth-seeking mission.

Yes, Reason of all Reasons, responded all my subordinates in unison.

Earth, huh? Well earth, let’s see how you fare against The Idea, I thought aloud as our formation of space capsules made entry into its atmosphere.

1.2

In the political game, there ain’t no good or bad…just strategy.

—Donovan Shark Patterson

The Smartest Dumbass in the Room

Steak supreme with mashed potatoes, green beans and a Jim Beam straight up, spoke the young broad behind the counter as she served my order.

Thank you darling, I replied. I made sure to grab a stool as far as possible from a trio of gentlemen pontificating about politics, last night’s presidential debate I believe, in this near-empty bar.

Don’t vote Benson! exclaimed the more opinionated one, I’m guessing in reference to one of the running candidates. More tax hikes on the rich? Why do liberals always relegate fiscal responsibilities to the rich?

What? Like trickle-down economics is a better alternative? opined another. I tried my best to maintain an aloof demeanor as the gentlemen exchanged their political sentiments, even going as far as pretending to watch a televised basketball game, the NBA finals I think—who’s playing anyway? But my indifference couldn’t deter the three wannabe pundits from asking for my input.

Benson 2024 right? yelled one of the gentlemen from halfway across the bar, pointing at me to avoid any confusion as to who he’s addressing. I simply raised my glass, smiled and nodded. Unfortunately, my tepid response only sparked further chemistry between myself and the trio.

No friggin way! You too? yelled the more opinionated gentleman in the trio. I half-heartedly attempted to dignify his comments, hoping that a dismissive shrug would thwart what little camaraderie is forming between us. But it only made things worse.

You got some explaining to do, sir, shouted the more opinionated gentleman as the trio walked over to join me on the far side of the bar. I am not sure what made me out to be so approachable to these blabbermouths, but I suspect it has something to do with my attire—who designed this getup anyway?

Now there’s a man who probably dresses as sharply as he thinks, remarked the more opinionated gentleman as he and his company ensconced themselves in the bar stools next to mine.

If by dressing sharp you mean buying suits secondhand, then I’m your man, I responded, evoking much laughter from my new friends.

Your name? asked the more opinionated gentleman on behalf of the trio.

Donovan, I replied as I shook his hand. But call me Shark. After introducing themselves and ordering a few rounds, the gentlemen resumed the political gossip.

I can’t seem to talk my two colleagues here out of voting democrat come the elections, commented the more opinionated one. I hope they’ll heed my advice if it comes from another respectable man such as yourself.

I dunno man, looks like Benson got this one wrapped up, I said, trying my best to conceal my dislike for idle chatter.

Not after last night’s debate, followed the more opinionated gentleman.

Did you see it? asked another gentleman in the trio—Jonathan, I think he said his name is.

The debate? Can’t say I did, I responded.

Well, let’s just say the right-wing political machine is still alive and kicking, remarked Jonathan, grinning as if he said something worth a damn.

So what are y’all? Political consultants or something? I earnestly asked. The three gentlemen chuckled.

We’re asset managers for a small investment firm, answered the more opinionated one. I was promoted to a hedge fund managerial position today so me and the boys are out doing a little celebrating.

Congrats, I replied, not too keen on finding out what a hedge fund is.

What do you do, Shark? asked Jonathan.

I’m with the UMCTC, I answered, knowing exactly what question would follow.

What’s that? asked the more opinionated gentleman, grimacing as if I said something vulgar.

Nothing really, I vaguely replied. Just another bureaucratic organization in the Washington metropolitan area.  The gentlemen simply nodded. No, it’s just that y’all seem so… I took a couple seconds to think of the right word, absorbed by the political stuff that I assumed it was your area of expertise.

If by adsorbed you mean well-informed, commented the more opinionated gentleman, then sure, I guess we are absorbed.

Are you supporting anyone? asked Jonathan.

Supporting anyone? I chaffed.

Yes, for president? replied Jonathan, oblivious of my mockery.

Shit, I ain’t even voting, I replied. My brutal honesty was followed by a brief moment of silence as the gentlemen stared at one another in confusion.

You’re…you’re really not…voting? wondered a bewildered Jonathan, so dumbfounded by my apolitical stance that he suddenly developed a speech impediment. 

Are you a temporary resident or something? asked the more opinionated gentleman, genuinely concerned as to why I’m not casting a presidential ballot.

Do I sound like a temporary resident? I responded, alluding to my so-called redneck accent. Born and raised in Elkton, Virginia…‘bout a couple hours from here actually. The gentlemen couldn’t help but gawk at me like I’m some endangered species. I just don’t care much about the elections. Not Benson or what’s his face? I asked no one in particular.

Sauerbrunn, answered the last member of the trio, who up until now had been fairly quiet. I guess he couldn’t just stand by and allow my ignorance of the GOP presidential nominee to go uncorrected. 

Let me guess, proposed the more opinionated gentleman, whose contemptuous smirk suggested he didn’t think much of me. You’re probably one of those sovereign citizens huh?

I watched a segment about that on 60 Minutes last week, remarked Jonathan, mentioning the name of a TV program I’ve never heard of a day in my life. They’re the anti-establishment people right? he asked me.

First of all, I rejoindered, adopting a more serious voice, I don’t have a clue what that is so you may wanna cool it with the assumptions.

Well pardon me, retorted the more opinionated gentleman, I just can’t think of another reason why an American citizen would deliberately choose not to…

Second, I interrupted, As a federal employee, I’m actually more fond of the government than most folks, I clarified. I just don’t really give a damn who runs…

No wait! exclaimed the more opinionated gentleman, cutting me off. You say that, yet you choose not to weigh-in on who gets to be your boss?

Yea, concurred Jonathan. What is that about? As the gentlemen awaited an in-depth explanation, I took a minute to savor the last morsel of steak on my plate.

Has it ever occurred to y’all that the president of the United States is just another little guy in a big office? I asked.

A big orifice? said the more opinionated gentleman, surely mocking my accent.

Are you calling our commander in-chief a gaping asshole? quipped Jonathan as he got a few laughs from the other gentlemen.

Office, I calmly repeated. Take you for example, Mr. hedge fund, I suggested, addressing the more opinionated gentleman.

Oh boy, here we go, he responded in anticipation of my provocative insight.

Now you’ve been selected over these guys for this promotion in whatever profession y’all work in, right? I asked.

Sure, replied the more opinionated gentleman.

So that makes you the big guy and your colleagues here the little guys, right? I ensued.

If by that you mean I have more seniority than they do, sure, answered the more opinionated gentleman.

Now I’m sure you got your qualifications and such, I followed, but Jonathan, tell me…if you got the promotion instead, do you think you could do his job? I asked.

It’s Jansen, not Jonathan, said Jonathan, whose name is actually Jansen.

Jansen doesn’t have as much experience as I do, pointed out the more opinionated gentleman.

Wait…lemme finish, I replied. Jansen, if promoted today, even without this man’s experience, do you think you could do his job? Do you think you could sit in the big office?

Well I mean… Jansen temporarily turned his attention to the more opinionated gentleman. I don’t see why not.

Jansen you’re actually entertaining this guy? inquired the more opinionated gentleman, none too pleased by his colleague’s candidness.

I’m just answering his question, responded Jansen. If, theoretically speaking, I got the promotion over you, I think I’d do just fine, he explained as he downed what had to be his fifth glass of Moscato—what kind of man drinks white wine anyway?

See…that’s my whole point, I followed, addressing the more opinionated gentleman. You think you’re bigger than the little guy ‘cause you’re in the big office. But the little guy’s confident that he can sit in the big office just as well as you can. So really, you’re just another little guy in a big office. The more opinionated gentleman didn’t verbally respond to my derisive analogy, but his contorted scowl expressed more than words ever could.

What does that have to do with the elections? asked a confused Jansen.   

What I’m saying is why bother voting for one guy when the other can do the same exact job? I elaborated.

That’s moronic, retorted the more opinionated gentleman. You’re talking as if all presidential candidates have the same political views, like they’re all identical copies of one another, clones if you will.

I’m sure they have their…‘idiotsyncrasies’ or whatever, I rejoindered, not sure if I said that correctly, but the way I see it, as long as the plane don’t crash, it don’t matter who’s flyin’ it. A loud bang turned everyone’s attention to an undeniably intoxicated Jansen.

What about George WTF Bush! he cried, pounding his fist on the bar counter in a drunken expression of passion. You can’t possibly think that a president who’s waged two unjustified wars and single-handedly ran an economy to the ground is as worthy as a Reagan or even a Nixon?

No I can’t say that, I replied.

Finally, the first sensible thing he’s said all night, gibed the more opinionated gentleman.

But I can say this, I added, When the elections are all over, America will still be a country where a man can run up a bill of two grands at the bar after earning an extra comma on his paycheck in a flatlining economy, and still find something to complain about. I threw back what remained of my bourbon whiskey and signaled the broad behind the counter for my tab. ‘Cause that’s what presidents do…they give people a reason to bitch and moan, I said, ending my short rant with a turbulent belch.

Amen brother…tell it like it is! yelled a random voice a few bar stools down from mine. 

Now if y’all will excuse me, I got somewhere to be.  I left a couple tens on the table, stood to my feet, and prepared to remove myself from the gentlemen’s presence, but not before one of them asked me one last question.

What do you do for a living again? queried the fairly quiet fella, uttering only his second phrase of the night.

Those assholes you vote for, they always end up pissing off some crazy fuckers out somewhere, I replied. My job is to make sure that those crazy fuckers don’t take their anger out on you. That way, you can go back and vote for the same assholes who pissed ‘em off in the first place. As I walked towards the bar’s exit, I couldn’t help but overhear some amusing reactions.

Next time I see a guy in a suit, remind me to make sure he’s not a hick first before I buy him a drink, scoffed the more opinionated gentleman. Fucking guy probably didn’t finish middle school.

Where did he say he works? inquired Jansen, very much curious about my occupation.

Who cares where he works…he’s a dumbass, sneered the more opinionated gentleman.

UMCTC, answered the fairly quiet fella.

Some kind of non-profit organization? wondered Jansen.

Ultramodern Counterterrorism Center, clarified the fairly quiet fella. He was the smartest dumbass in the room.

Ultramodern what? asked the more opinionated gentleman as I made my way out the door.

America’s Most Trusted Enemy

Like the gentlemen I met at the bar, many folks who approach me often get the impression that I am, for lack of a better word, stupid. I don’t know what it is about me that conveys this image: maybe it’s my blatant indifference towards pop politics, sports, or any subject-matter that makes for a worthwhile conversation these days. Or maybe it’s my brazen simplicity, like being the furthest thing from a hypocrite is somehow a bad thing. Whatever it is, it sure has a way of portraying me as some incompetent son of a bitch. And my homegrown accent sure as hell don’t help none.

But then, when you’re one of the very few people in this world qualified to head the Ultramodern Counterterrorism Center (UMCTC), the National Security Agency’s (NSA) knee-jerk reaction to the growing technological threats of the 21st century, it’s damn-near impossible to think of yourself as stupid. As director of this NSA subsidiary, I’m to ensure that our government has prior knowledge of the newest avenues that the contemporary sciences have opened up to would-be terrorists. This means awareness of the latest capabilities afforded by technological advancements in everything from weapons of mass destruction to cyberwarfare. My job, in a nutshell, is to preempt state-of-the-art terror plots against the US by thinking of them first. I am America’s most trusted enemy.

Over the course of my 15-year tenure with the UMCTC, I developed a strong reputation for exposing vulnerabilities in US protective and intelligence operations, earning the nickname Shark as a result. This is pretty fitting because just as a shark can sniff out one drop of blood in a million drops of water from as far as a quarter-mile away, I can spot openings in our country’s national defenses that are so subtle you’d think I’m the one who put them there to begin with. If there’s anyone on this Earth who excels at finding ways to circumvent US national security, it is me. So you can bet your ass if I can’t harm America, there ain’t another soul that can.

The UMCTC is to America what vaccines are to people: we strengthen its defenses by harmlessly introducing it to newer threats so that in the future, it can better detect and neutralize them. To do this, we think of countless ways to hurt this great country of ours. As director, questions like How can I get today’s nuclear launch codes? or How can I kill the First Lady? are among the many that I am required to ask myself on a periodic basis. And when I succeed in finding answers to some of these naughty questions, an outcome that is a lot more common than you’d think, I reveal to guys above my paygrade how my team of engineers managed to get the president’s wife to stare down the barrel of an automated Swiss minigun mounted inside a UAV (unmanned aerial vehicle) surreptitiously disguised as a hummingbird. That way, the next time a suspicious looking winged-creature gets within five feet of the presidential spouse, secret service can squash it before it lets off a fatal chirp.

The drone-hummingbird assassination project is just one of many benign terror plots I’ve thought up as UMCTC director. Another favorite of mine is a computer hacking plot that put our nation’s electrical power grid a click away from being so severely compromised that, left to the discretion of a cyber-terrorist, the entire east coast would’ve been without power for no less than six months. These sorts of doomsday-esque scenarios are only afforded by the finest, most sophisticated technologies that the UMCTC can develop. And overseeing these technological developments is a broad who, much like myself, has built a reputation for being the best at what she does.

She-Tesla

If I am the head of the UMCTC, then Agam Garewal, also known as She-Tesla, is the neck, arms, legs and every other body part needed for this organization to function. I don’t know the exact story behind this 22-year old prodigy’s nickname, but from what I hear, it makes her out to be the girl version of some famous historic inventor. Agam was born in the slums of Mumbai to parents she knows nothing about. Statistically speaking, kids in her predicament aren’t supposed to amount to much. So I like to think of her as one of those miracle babies. Born with a brain worthy of being preserved for research, Agam rose to national fame at the early age of eight when a journalist reporting on Mumbai’s substandard living conditions discovered her favorite hobby: building electric generators from discarded material found in the city’s massive landfills. According to the 2010 report, Agam, using everything from disposed car parts to worn-out shoes, succeeded in assembling enough generators to provide her electricity-deprived neighborhood with enough voltage to light up every floor of the Empire State building. When the likes of MIT got a hold of the news, well…I guess you can imagine how Agam gained entry to the States.

Whereas some people take ages before spraying champagne in celebration of life success, Agam did just that before she could legally purchase the sparkling beverage. She was barely nine years old when she was admitted to MIT’s School of Engineering, receiving her doctorate by the precocious age of 13—an amazing feat for sure. But when you consider that, as a child, she had already mastered electrical engineering without so much as opening a book, it shouldn’t be too surprising that her four-year stay at the world’s best technical institution led her to become the youngest PhD in history to undergo puberty. And by the time she was of age, she had already left her mark on the world of physics, becoming not only the second female Nobel laureate in the field, but the youngest by replicating the world’s first rematerialization experiment, making human teleportation a legitimate possibility in the near future. That milestone alone secured her the leading position on a team of world-class engineers devoted to making the UMCTC the most effective remedy against new age terrorism.

A Sexy Problem Solver

To call Agam smart would be to insult her intelligence. Whenever I theorize of some elaborate terror plot that seems more Hollywood than reality, she’s the one who creates the means to put it into practice. Since her understanding of the applied sciences is unlike anything this world has ever seen, no theory to her is considered too far-fetched for experimentation. I remember once asking her about a sniping scenario regarding the presidential inaugural address following the 2020 elections. With my mind in the gutter as usual, I thought of a possible JFK-like assassination plot where the newly-elected president could succumb to a long-distance shot to the noggin. Because open car rides have become a big no-no since that dreadful day, a sniper’s best opportunity at assassinating the US president would come once his target exits the customary armored vehicle, preferably while he’s delivering the inaugural address. Knowing this, I decided to inspect the immediate premises near the Capitol, where the inaugural address was to be delivered, to look for a spot that could afford a long-range shooter an ideal kill: a shot fired from high elevation, moderate distance (a little under a mile) into open terrain.

As I expected, every area I found that facilitated such a kill had already been ruled out by secret service. Even areas that provided less-than-ideal kills, shots from low elevation, long distances (more than a mile) into tight spots, were already accounted for. When my inspection finished, the only area I saw that could provide a sniper with the remotest chance at killing the US president was a secluded back alley about four miles away from the Capitol. This area was far from ideal not only because of the great distance it places between the shooter and his target, but also because it’s at ground level, meaning the shooter wouldn’t even be able to see his target above the surrounding buildings. So what exactly attracted me to this spot? Well, despite its shortcomings in terms of distance and elevation, this secluded back-alley gives a would-be sniper a line of fire that could direct a .408 cal straight to the Capitol’s west front terrace, the exact location where the presidential inaugural speech is delivered. I say .408 cal because in order for a sniper to hit his target from four miles out, he’d need a rifle capable of projecting bullets at distances up to 6 miles…like a Cheytac .408 cal.

The effective range for a Cheytac .408 cal is about 1,500 yards, meaning it can hit a target just under a mile away with great precision. So asking this American design to strike from a little over four miles away is definitely pushing its limits. But with that being said, a Cheytac .408 cal can launch a bullet as far out as 11,000 yards, although its accuracy at this range is very unpredictable…unless your name is She-Tesla. So when asked if it’s possible to assassinate the US president by firing a high-powered rifle 70 football fields out while standing next to a Starbucks dumpster without a visual of the target, Agam gave me the same response she did to all the other ridiculous questions I asked her: Do you want to hear the answer, or do you want to see it?

Agam told me that just as a blind man playing darts can hit a bullseye given he knows where the dartboard is, the sniper in my scenario can assassinate the president without a visual as long as he’s aware of his location. This, of course, was nothing more than analogy, for it doesn’t take a genius to know that throwing darts and firing rifles have their differences. Some of these differences include wind velocity, air density, and the Coriolis effect—variables that mean nothing in a game of darts but everything in a four-mile rifle shot. Another variable that played an unusually large role in my sniping scenario was gravity. Because my hypothetical sniper is firing from such a long distance and from such low elevation, his rifle would have to be inclined at a very specific angle that allows his bullet to arc high enough above surrounding buildings, and far enough to reach his target. With so many intricacies to consider, I gotta admit…I wasn’t sure if even someone as brilliant as Agam could solve a problem of this complexity. But my skepticism sure as hell didn’t stop her from trying.

Before finding a bullet trajectory that can net my hypothetical sniper a kill, Agam first had to explore all of the possible lines of fire conducive to such. This was pretty much the equivalent of finding a sewing pin in a bale of straw. Considering the extreme circumstances of my sniping scenario, the smallest amount of space between one line of fire and the next could easily mean the difference between a hit or a miss. For this reason, Agam saw fit to inspect every square inch of the back-alley where my sniper is shooting from for a suitable line of fire. The back-alley, which measured 300 feet long and 30 feet wide, had an area of 129,600 square inches, which meant my hypothetical sniper would have at least 129,600 possible lines of fire to choose from. And once she factored in the manifold angles at which his rifle would have to be inclined to propel his bullet far enough above the surrounding trees and buildings, the total rose well above a million. After conducting several tests and adjusting for all kinds of variables, Agam eventually succeeded in narrowing these lines of fire down to a half-dozen that consistently made contact with a dummy standing 7040 yards away at the podium where the president was to speak. And with further assistance from laser rangefinders and ballistic-prediction software, it was only a matter of time before she pinpointed a very specific line of fire that lodged a bullet in the dummy’s head 93 times out of 100 attempts, confirming that assassinating the US president from a back-alley four miles away is very possible as long as one has the right tools. Once secret service was apprised of our findings, it increased its counter-sniper tactics from a two-mile radius to six. After this experiment, I was convinced that if I asked her to find the cure to the common cold, She-Tesla would have it on my desk the very next day.

As if her ginormous brains weren’t enough of a blessing, Agam also happens to be a hot commodity on