Name: Oh, let's just call me "Mr King" for now, shall we? It's the most convenient one to use for the moment, at least.
Age: Now that's just rude. You should know better than to ask that of someone of my advanced years.
Occupation: I suppose you could call me a "professional gamer". I've been engaged in this one particular game for just about as long as I can remember.
Tell us a little about yourself:
Sigh. If you insist.
Let's keep it short, though, shall we? Information is, after all, a dangerous thing. Putting too much "out there" might result in my enemy getting the upper hand.
My enemy. Ms White, as she seems to be calling herself nowadays. Don't let me get started on her please.
Our little competition has been dragging on for quite some time now.
How long? Well. Just think of the longest stretch of time you can imagine. No, think bigger. Really long.
Yes. It's even longer than that.
I do feel that things are coming to a head now, though. Most of the boards have been swept, our strategies are converging. Things are going to happen in a big way soon, I can feel it.
No details. Yes, I know you're desperate for them. Tough luck there. But there's something in the air. "A vast image out of Spiritus Mundi troubles my sight", as someone once wrote.
Just a few more gambits and this game will be over - one way or another. My biggest problem now is going to be them.
Yes, those six kids of hers. Of Ms White's. Kaz, Andy, Meesha, Jason, Pegah, Samir. They were just another tool of hers that first day I saw them. Another set of worthless pawns.
But if I let them reach the other side of the board, then they become something else. Perhaps it's time I nip this in the bud. Stop them now before things get any worse.
The hospital, then. St Mercy's. I've already sent my disposables in. She must be sending hers, too.
This is my chance. If I win this, the game could be mine. And I can finally put that red cross in the "win" column.