Nikola Tesla

Nikola Tesla is standing next to his desk in deep thought.
In front of him lies the recently completed drawings for the construction of his Over Unity device – capable of producing an endless surplus of electrical energy by the exploitation of earth magnetism and gravity alone.
He has accomplished his life’s most challenging task, and knows it will change just about everything when the news get around to New York – or even just as far as to Edison’s spy, lurking outside his own property gates.
Tesla takes a deep breath, walks over to the window and looks out.
The forest outside is full of life on this warm summer evening, and the air is rich with the smell of flowers in bloom and fresh grass.
He can’t help but fall into a deeply melancholy state as he stands there viewing this beautiful, tranquil scenery.
The smells and sounds resemble those of his childhood, the forest in Belgrade, and even just standing here, thousands of miles and several decades away from the source of his memories, he still feels as though he is being transported by magic back to the source by these simple impressions on his senses.
Life, and Nature, he concludes - is truly the most wondrous thing.
And far, far superior in complexity to any of the technology he has created and surrounded himself with throughout his whole life.
As he stands there, carelessly letting his mind wander, he can feel something rising within - an urge he’s been getting during the last few days.
He’s already been going through this over and over with himself, and maybe he has even known it deep down, all along the way?
It is over.
He has succeeded.
The challenge in itself was what made him approach this problem to begin with, and, now that he has resolved it, he feels content, but also somehow empty.
This is good enough.
It will have to do for his personal fulfillment.
After all, hasn’t he always steered clear of the trappings of vanity, the same vanity that clearly had succeeded in taking control over the once creative minds of some of his peers?
Why should he give in to the temptations of attaining recognition and economical success, now that he has travelled thus far with totally different intentions?
It has to be done.
Nikola Tesla walks over to the drawing board once more.
He picks up the construction sketches, folds them with both hands, tears the papers into tiny little pieces, and throws them into the open, unlit fireplace.
There they lie atop an old heap of ashes, like pieces of the most perfect dream.
Broken.
And then, even though it is a warm summer evening, Nikola lights up the fireplace.
Life, after all, is far too beautiful for this to destroy it.

I am Nikola Tesla.