I monitor transmissions from my hemispheric command center. I drink isolation fluid and decode the static. I spin strands of propaganda across the Webs. I watch worlds burn and reassemble. My intelligence officers prowl the neighborhood and return with bottles from the liquor store. Nothing flies too high or too low to evade my radar. My desktop is a mess of guns, pills, and poems. I'll go outside--when the time is right, to signal the sky and wave the lights down.