We are liars. We lie all the time. We know what we know, but we never tell. We think what we know is best hidden. For our purpose, of course. But it is best hidden. Then yes, I lie too. This is the only thing that keeps me connected to the human world. This is what makes me alive: lying. I am an exile. I think I am an exile, and I will always be. This is the lie I hide. I can’t tell you this. I can’t tell you anything, actually. I know something that you should know too,