I got something in my electrons that was supposed to go to you
(the God of the Atom does not make mistakes like this one)
and though I tried not to look too deeply into the meaning
I couldn't help to notice that you are quite out of alignment
and subject to a recall, though this has not been realized
on an official level, merely suspected as an antidote
to the deepening miasma that has you currently cornered.
Your concern, it must be comforting to know, has been noticed
by the All-Knowing and responded to. The fault actually
lies with me and my inability to stay focused on anything
that is not me for very long at all; one could even speculate
that I am completely unaware of anyone except myself,
which is the purpose of this whole affair and why my face,
usually so beatific, has been so apparently petrified of late.
You can imagine my delight when I looked in to my usual
porthole to see what was mine and discovered that I am not
in fact going to be much like you after all, and that you
could only know by how much if I chose to broadcast
something else about your perspiration that you did not
already announce in your own fashion in the place you know.
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