I drape myself with this invisibility cloak and wander through Manhattan. I hear your calls, smell your cologne and read your text messages. City Hall, Gracie Mansion, Albany. I’m everywhere. In the age of information, I’m a gatekeeper.

Last night I snuck into the penthouse of a crypto star. A fundraiser. Politicians and wielders clinked to the power of their future major, who from a platform, bewitched the audience with her fanning speech.

From the fog of accolades and low lit candles I heard a voice.

“What is she saying?”
“An interpretation,” I answered.
“Interpretation is a function of power, not truth.”
“Nietzsche?” I asked.
“Very good.”
“Wait, can you see me?” I was dumbfounded.
“Of course. And hear you very well. Follow me.”