I'm Nathan Invincible Miller.
Invincible is not my real name, it's just the lifestyle I lead.
I try my best to always be on an adventure.
Even my "work" helps fulfill that role.
I'm in a constant pursuit of discovery.
The more I dig, the more I find. I'm never done.
I grew up in Pennsylvania and now live in Michigan's U.P.
Both are rural, beautiful, and commonly classified as the middle of nowhere.
I don't know where I'm going from here.
I just know that I'm there along the way.
I'm just this guy, you know?
Recently I was worrying about the fact that part of my mind just didn’t seem to work properly. Then it occurred to me that the way it seemed was that someone else was using my mind to have good ideas with, without telling me about it. I put the two ideas together and decided that maybe that somebody had locked off part of my mind for that purpose, which was why I couldn’t use it. I wondered if there was a way I could check.
I went to the medical bay and plugged myself into the encephalographic screen. I went through every major screening test on my head. They showed up nothing. Nothing unexpected at least. They showed that I was clever, imaginative, irresponsible, untrustworthy, extrovert, nothing you couldn’t have guessed. And no other anomalies. So I started inventing further tests, completely at random. Nothing. Then I tried superimposing the results from one head on top of the results from my other head. Still nothing. Finally I got silly, because I’d given it all up as nothing more than an attack of paranoia. Last thing I did before I packed it in was take the superimposed picture and look at it through a green filter. I was always superstitious about the color green when I was a kid because I always wanted to be a pilot on one of the trading scouts.
And there it was, clear as day. A whole section in the middle of my brain that related only to itself and not to anything else around it. Some bastard had cauterized all the synapses and electronically traumatized that lump of cerebellum.
Why? I can only guess. But I do know who the bastard was, because they left their initials burned into the cauterized synapses. They left them there for me to see.
“What were they, for God’s sake?”
I’ll tell you about it later.
My hero is the late, great, Tor Eckhoff. Long live apetor. Your spirit is alive everywhere I go.