"Out of the chrysalis didst the butterfly emerge. From a rather vague, apparently functionless and motionless pupal shell, doth a butterfly eclose. Out of seeming blandness doth a magnificent creature emerge; an array of colors, all wafer-thin gossamer wings dusted in a fine powdered silk. A beautiful sight. An awe-inspiring rebirth. The most magnificent metamorphosis imaginable.
Thus didst the artist also emerge. A previously imprisoned creature, until all of the biochemical triggers fire in sequence, the chemical information present therein being translated into changes, apparently drastic physical and phenotypic changes at that. In a more evolved and higher order organism, such as the human, naturally the brain is also heavily impacted. A neural rewiring of the network, exchanging synapses, disconnecting those neurons from these ones, and patch them in over here, why don’t you?
Just like the newly formed butterfly exiting the pupa to new-found freedom and billowing fresh air, there is a period of “adjustment”. One could be forgiven for thinking the poor creature is in total shock at it’s new outlook on the world, but biology is rarely that unsophisticated. It is function, not folly, my friends. The butterfly needs to sit there awhile, so that its wings can harden in fresh air, to allow take off of the maiden flight.
So it was with my good self, upon the realization that my life, my purpose, were similarly altered. I suddenly had you, Charlie Springbank, in my sights, and there was no letting go of you, this time. Upon sitting on the branch for long enough, in awe and wonder at my new challenge, my wings had sufficiently stiffened to facilitate forward movement. So it was that I conceptualized The Masterwork.
Let me be most clear, dear boy. Whilst it came to me in a vision, I had no intention of falling into the traps that others do. I never was nor ever would be or become a serial criminal. God, no. Life’s too short dear boy, and I had much work to do. But it just so happened that for a certain period you became my life’s work, and that’s all there was to it. What better way to make you pay for your sins, than to come at you where you live and work, and at your work?
Find a method of attack that impacts your daily life in such a way that you cannot escape it. Many people walk out the door of a sunny morning, breathe a sigh of relief, because at least they have work, and a nice office to escape to each day. But what if I came up with an approach that hit you in the stomach, every day, in your chic office, at work? Hit ya hard enough, and on a regular enough basis, that coming home to quaint old Beacon Hill was but small comfort. Especially if the news was blaring on incessantly about it, and the wife would rattle on about when are y’all gonna get off your backsides and do something about it? Daddy-in-law starting to breathe down your neck, because His Highness, Lord Mayor, was starting to crack some heads of his own. The Chief of Police and The Mayor both scowling at you, when you dare to show up at some society function, when you should be at HQ, busting your ass. Irrespective of your acceptance into certain circles due to the wife’s family connections. Yes, this was the idea of The Masterwork. So it was conceived and designed, to pristine perfection. But the proof is in the execution, isn't it old fruit?
While I recognized that I might rapidly ascend my very own ladder, into stratospheric levels of stardom, I was forced to consider methodology most carefully. There wasn't any point in becoming an incarcerated star. The job only partially completed. This had to be avoided at all cost. Not least as I had zero intention of giving up even one hour of my own freedom due to the pursuit and deconstruction of yours. This was to be a win-win for me, and a lose-lose for you. Anything less than this and I would be unable to call it The Masterwork. Fast forward the tape, moron, and yes, it is today considered by one and all as The Masterwork."
[Excerpted from A QUIET RESIGNATION by Kevin Mc, out now on Amazon-Kindle]
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