[Transcript except from interview of Prisoner 09682 by Under-Deputy Xiang-Ping thirty minutes prior to the Arrival. Transcript includes only answers from Prisoner 09682 and no question/comments from Under-Deputy Xiang-Ping.]
Why does your mouth ask questions if you do not have the ears to hear?
You accuse me of speaking in riddles? You, who live your life telling other people what to do, but ignore what you tell yourself? You, who preach the nobility of choice from one side of your mouth while the other reprimands what is chosen? You are the riddler, my beloved.
I speak no more riddles than the sun. And, like the sun, I prefer to provide warmth and light, but I can also be persuaded to give death to the insolent. Which do you prefer?
Riddles. You accuse me of riddles, imprison me because you do not understand, and yet I tell you plainly that I cannot riddle because existence itself is a riddle, and everything that resides within is truth. Are you, Xiang-Ping, ready to hear the truth?
You have this obsession with me, as if knowing me will help you understand yourself. But what is in a name? What matters it to you if I am Phillip, or Kim, or Xenopribrius? Thyme or Sage? Gold or Iron? I have tried to tell you before, but you would not listen. Perhaps, Xiang-Ping, you will now.
I am sex. I am the Neotroglas. Neotroglas’ mate when a female injects her penis into the male’s vagina. This penis scoops up the sperm in his vagina and transfers it to the female. This process could take several days, and if the male attempts to break away at any time, the female’s penis will rip him asunder.
I am love. I am the Latrodectus. Once he has impregnated his wife, the male Latrodectus leaps, willingly, upon her fangs. This is not a trick, nor is he forced or coerced. He impails himself so that his wife has the nutrients she needs to give birth. His children will never know the word “father”, but he kills himself so that they may live.
I am shelter. I am the Aphonopelma. While tarantulas normally feed on toads, they provide shelter to a Gastrophryne. These particular toads nestle under the spider’s protective legs in their skin-moistening caves, snapping at nest-pests that would otherwise consume the tarantula’s eggs.
I am food. I am the Pieris. Sometimes I emerge a butterfly, others a buffet. If I am destined to the latter, a Confesia wasp injects her eggs into my fat catipillar flesh. When they hatch, the young eat me alive so that they can grow into strong adults that lap nectar from flowers.
Do you now understand who I am?
No?
Ah, my beloved. You are still confused, and I am short of words. The time of the Arrival grows near, so I am forced to provide you with a name you will recognize but not understand.
Who am I?
My beloved… I am the Mad Priest.