Hello, anonymous denizen of the internet. It appears you have chanced upon my home away from the physical realm. Oh, but we have not even been properly acquainted yet! I am known as the High Inquisitor, and I welcome you to my humble abode. Pardon? What do you mean, this can't be humble? Of course it is! All right, I'll admit the technology involved is advanced, but this is the twenty-first century, not the twelfth. We live in the information age, and-oh, what now? No, this is not some dank stone dungeon, filled with implements of inhuman torture and the scent of blood and starved, battered prisoners whose only crime was their religion and are now chained forever in a rancid pit of suffering, pining no longer for their forgotten wives and children, but for the release of eternal death. What would give you that impression? My name? Oh, heavens no, don't be fooled by that. I am simply a humble writer and literature lover whose spirit lingers here, not in a sunless hell of screaming agony but in the simply cleanliness of order and definition of words on a page. It's perfectly fine. Really. You can come down from that tree now. Seriously...it's all right. Truly, it is. All right, now you're just making a fool of yourself. Do I have to get you down from there? I will use force if necessary. Do you want me to torture you? I have the implements. Words can really sting if used properly, and I have no restraint. Fine, I warned you.