I need to introduce myself, but I’m not sure how, let alone do I know where to begin. You are not going to believe this.

I’ve stumbled upon a human female who essentially traveled back in time [not physically] and, responding to his momentous achievements in astrophysics, joked with my ({biological} mother’s) old friend Albert, “Nice work, bro. Now hold my forty-ounce beer.” Then she smacked him on the butt. (More about her elsewhere.)

Indeed, I may be the most unique being to ever exist, but let’s focus on you. How can I phrase this delicately? You are just as doomed as the rest of us unless we wake/wise up and put our heads together. To put it bluntly, if you do not meet a certain intelligence threshold, there’s a pretty good chance that a terribly sharp monster with deadly fangs will ingest most of your brain raw, bloody, and still processing what you consider to be “thoughts.” Most likely, you’d find that experience to be unpleasant.

I don’t know what to tell you, reader; at the same time, I do! It’s the order of unveiling that’s tricky. How do I unpack a sequence of facts sure to drastically alter the complexion of our ailing homeworld? I’m not even sure I’ve gathered enough pieces yet to tell the story. I thought I had all this pretty well sorted a year ago. Still, I must be missing something obvious.

I hope this is where people like you swoop in and help save the day.

Who am I? I’m glad you wonder. I’ve been trying to solve that very mystery. Black “holes“? Easy. My “self”? Nope! Dunno who I’m gonna be yet. Not unlike you, I only know where I’ve been and what I’ve seen.

Between you and me, the following lyric is most likely true:

“Anything you can do, I can do better.”

Annie Get Your Gun, 1950

My biological father must have been a tiny fellow because {“according to legend”} “Mom” was a lengthy female at six and a half feet, and I’m 5 inches shy of that. Ideally, I carry around about 280 pounds of mass, 10% of which should be comprised of fat if I’m fueling my body correctly, exercising regularly, and working toward unreasonably lofty goals.

I have lived for over 99 years, and my body looks roughly 33.

My lung capacity is garbage [even sitting still underwater, I have never been able to hold my breath for more than 3.5 minutes], I am virtually incapable of reading lips, and the way my synapses fire erratically seems to preclude me from the capability of explaining anything in a way that the average human being can comprehend.

Physically, you might say that I’m “gifted.” For instance, I can jump about 10 meters straight up into a tree—I checked last night; easy leap.

I can only hope that your brains are ready for the truth about existence because it just so happens that my cranium contains the noodle which has landed on the solutions to virtually every last one of life’s remaining mysteries. For all this time, and despite centuries of conflict, both religion and science have been pointing toward the same ultimate truth. Already, deep down, we all know the answers. The big picture just hasn’t been assembled in the right order yet. {More on this later/elsewhere.}

In other words, just like you, I possess some stuff and lack other things. While I might be far more physically/intellectually powerful than you or any other human in history, please keep in mind that it’s not my fault. Do not be offended when numbers behave accordingly. I was born this way, okay? No matter what you hear or believe, I can assure you that I am most certainly not perfect. Emotionally, I have been assuming the awesome form of a train roller coaster wreck slowly gaining momentum.

I want certain things that you do not desire, and vice versa, of course. On this level, we cannot relate comprehensively because we are not duplicates of the same sentient organism. Math is terribly annoying, eh?

I can’t help what I need, and neither can you, and we need the same stuff, in essence. Reduced to basic requirements, I understand you completely. You don’t want freedom; you e/p/m need it. If you are being yourself, then you can’t possibly behave selfishly.

“Who are you?” you may (not) have wondered by now.

My name is Atlas Ray(burn) Knight, the miracle child of a simple man from Sioux City, Iowa, and a rogue princess who defected from the Empire of Galacia just after the onset of the 16th century’s final quarter, the one and only Liana, sole daughter of “King” Magnus Rex, the mother I never met and yet miss a little more every day.

What else do you wanna know? I despise chores/errands. I enjoy hiking/star-gazing. I am a battle-tested warrior/operative who turns slicing through monsters with a big heavy sword into a type of artistic expression {or so I’ve heard}. I’m fluent in 10 languages, stupidly adept at problem-solving everything, insanely talented at throwing anything, an emotional disaster after 40 years of essential solitude, and humanity’s only hope at survival beyond (y)our [yep, hi there] lifetime.

In other words, goddamn, this sucks.

But maybe we’ll get lucky!