Oh, you like to think you’re a god. But you’re not a god. You’re just a parasite eaten out with jealousy and envy and longing for the lives of others. You feed on them. On the memory of love and loss and birth and death and joy and sorrow. So… so, come on, then. Take mine.
So is this how it works, Doctor? You never interfere in the affairs of other peoples or planets, unless there’s children crying.
Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget who I am. Very thoughtful as that does happen.