Getting back? What is this, the purchase of a textile factory in 1900? All we trade these days is hype. I’ve transformed my mind into a fabulous factory for hype. I share my late-night infomercials with hollow dreams and empty glitz. Every morning, I wake up to a profit projection I crafted ages ago that concludes only one thing: I’m eternally destined to chase empty promises. My dazzling ambitions, my relentless optimism, my stubborn refusal to balk at the absurd—these have launched me on a glorious carousel where logic never intervenes.

I imagined changing the world without thinking about the real cost, and by the time I noticed, I had run out of backup plans. What am I offering? I’m stuck using the same old tricks to make empty promises seem exciting. I give up my integrity to sell dreams for someone else’s imaginary future. I work tirelessly for a bright tomorrow that I know we’ll never get to see. The drive that started all this will never get applause or a spotlight. So what do I give up? Everything!

Capitalist spin on Luthen’s monologue