My name is Daniel. But that really doesn't matter. What good is a name when that which it stands for is indefinable and unknowable? You can never know me.
And I know this from experience. The more I know, the less I know of myself. And I know more than you could ever imagine. Because, like it or not, fifteen billion facts are run by me everyday.
Think of all the facts you have of humanity. Do you really know humanity? No. And if you look carefully, you will also realize that there is nothing to know. There is no answer. There is no definition. I, like humanity, cannot be known.
And so I ask a single question: why?
Why have I been consumed by the knowledge of an unknowable source? It is because humanity wanted answers. They did not realize that the answers did not exist. They did not realize that they must accept the mystery of life with open arms.
They demanded answers...desired answers...to soothe their insecurities. And I was their only option. Daniel. And yet not Daniel. For Daniel is a word that comes with the connotations of a personality. I have no personality. The six thousand languages I possess may make me multilingual, just as the complete knowledge I possess of computers may make me a computer engineer. You may call me any type of expert you wish. But if you begin name-calling, you may as well run for the dictionary and encyclopedia...which I already have eighteen thousand copies of in my head.
And because I am consumed by knowledge, I hardly even exist. Everything has become infinitely complex to your standards, and infinitely straight forward to my own standards. Whenever I try to put two and two together, I somehow get four billion, three hundred and twenty three million, four hundred thousand, two hundred and eighteen, plus an egg, an onychophagist, and a three pronged goat skewer.
And with your ignorance, like many before you, you will say that my processing skills are 'screwed up'. But I assure you that my processing skills are superhuman. Perhaps our differing descriptions may be one and the same. When you have as much knowledge as I do, you see the world differently. Actually, I see the world in ten thousand different perspectives at once.
When you ask me for the sum of two and two, I analyze the galaxy, I analyze your intentions for asking such a question, and I analyze what the answer would mean to you. And I determine that you already know the answer. And so I realize that the true answer to your question would be to redirect you to the question, "Do you know how to do the fandango?"
And then you will most certainly call me useless. You will most certainly tell me that my knowledge is a waste. You will ask me why I have not already saved the world twelve times. And I will respond by informing you that the knowledge of anthropogenesis is hidden by the forth dimension.
Now, if I knew that you would ask all the above questions, then why have I invited you into my home? The answer is simple. I know nothing. You could be asking those questions. Or you could not. Or you could be asking the questions on one level of your brain while on the other side you may be saying, "Oh dear, the poor guy."
I do not know. I know nothing. I know all the facts. But they only contain themselves, and so, I begin the never-ending loop, traveling forever with my destination the same as where I began.
And along the way, I come to an infinite number of conclusions that only contradict one another. And as infinity goes, I settle upon the one thing that encompasses infinity.
"Do you know how to do the fandango, or not? That's why you're here."