I would like to say that tomorrow is my last day of work. When I exit the building and walk down the ramp for the last time, perhaps ever, I will look at the sky and say something I cannot predict now. What I say will be very insignificant to what I do next, but I would like to think I will say otherwise. I will not remember this writing at the time.

When you see a giant head at the presidential inauguration of 2060 or whatever year it ends up being after that and the head winks, that is me shouting out to you. I mean a really giant head. The head will come to represent my final vie for humanity's love. In some ways it is pathetic, but I will take that pity in noble stride.