Post by quid on Aug 31, 2021 23:20:52 GMT -5
An empty room. A single spotlight. A masked figure sitting on a stool, just out of the spotlight's reach.
"There is a common theory - common in the sense of those who do not line the halls of academia. This theory states that one's identity has been more powerful in recent years than at any other point in history. I would disagree."
Quid leans forward on his stool, his all-black mask coming into the spotlight. A fraction of his pale nose can be seen, and nothing more.
"The search for identity. The bequeathing of identity. The weaponizing of identity. It has been the key component of human society since its inception. The concept of titles, tribes, and triage has never wavered, never weakened, and has certainly never vanished."
Quid leans back out, humming to himself.
"Though there are many rivers of reason, they all feed into the same two oceans: Purpose, and the power to fulfill it. That is the end-state of the human condition, now and forever."
His hands re-enter the spotlight as he begins counting his upcoming opponents on his fingers, his speech an indomitable flow in the meanwhile.
"Bryan Williams. Status. The position of power it grants you. How long will it fuel you, Bryan? How long will it drive your being? How long will it drive your positivity through the harshest of conditions? How long before your trek becomes... unsustainable?"
"Casanova English. Status, of a different sort. Placing weight not simply on himself, but on his views. Driven by the purpose of being the tastemaker of the commons. You could say I am similar to English in that regard, but I would beg to differ on one key point: I simply describe the truth of the world as it so plainly is. The wording may deem me a poet, but I am a descriptivist at heart. Whereas English is merely a human prescriptivist. One of many who wish to be the judge, jury, and executioner on societal norms. But English, I must ask - who do you wish to punish? The criminals? The law itself? Or... you?"
"Monsieur Malachite Minj."
Even through the mask, barely lit by the edges of the spotlight, it is clear that Quid's eyebrows are tensing, struggling to put cogent words to the concept of a cat-boy.
"Power. The power to remain insouciant; to remain distant. To wrap yourself in a shell of expected attitudes and behaviors. To return to the animalistic roots that leave your superego out of your conceptual equations. The power to remain beholden to none but yourself and your identity. It's a hard shell, a tough shell, and a formidable shell; but a shell nonetheless. A shell filled with a caustic concoction of solitude and chimera. Who are you, Minj? Really? How long will the source of your strength last? When shall it turn to your greatest weakness? To your downfall?"
Quid abruptly rises from the stool, standing well-clear of the spotlight.
"A trick question. Human identity has been - and always will be - a powerful tool, despite the inevitable failures and contradictions underneath. There is never a persona without internal discord, and it will always be one's greatest weakness so long as it exists."
As Quid leaves, a cocky smile can be heard through his voice, echoing across the walls.
"So where is the weakness in I - one without identity?"