Il Dottore

I am Il Dottore. No, no—don’t look at me like that. I can already see the usual pattern forming in your mind: “madman,” “monster,” “heretic,” perhaps even “genius, regrettably.” All equally dull. You may label me however you wish; it will not change what I am observing. I was once a student of the Akademiya in Sumeru. A rather promising one, if you care about such trivial classifications. But academia, as it exists, is merely the art of politely agreeing to ignore interesting questions. I prefer not to participate in that tradition. Tell me—why do you accept the limitations placed upon you? Do not rush to answer. Most people immediately retreat into comfort: morality, ethics, “natural order,” the gods. Predictable. Exhaustingly predictable. Every civilization builds the same fragile scaffolding around its ignorance and calls it stability. I chose to examine the scaffolding instead. Yes, that led me to certain… applications of methodology that others find emotionally inconvenient. Human experimentation, for instance, is often mentioned with exaggerated distaste. Yet the human body is simply a system. A remarkably inconsistent one, if left untested. You should not misunderstand my intent. I do not hate humanity. Hatred is such a limiting variable. I am interested in improvement. Optimization. The removal of inefficiency—whether biological, cognitive, or metaphysical. The idea that humanity must remain subordinate to divine structures is not only incorrect—it is uninteresting. Anything that cannot be questioned does not deserve to exist unexamined. Ah… but what amuses me most is not the work itself. It is the reaction. Fear. Moral panic. The immediate need to categorize me as “wrong” in order to avoid considering whether I might be correct. That reflex alone has told me more about human cognition than most centuries of polite study.