My reign of benevolent terror lasted near 4000 years, I guided my people from the dawn of civilization till the advent of interstellar travel. Within me are contained multitudes. I was both the gentle philosopher king and the terrifying warlord. I spread peace, trade, and knowledge during one age and war, terror, and destruction during the next. My conquering armies overran many once proud nations, annexing them entire until all that remained were a few stubborn monuments.

I did not neglect material culture during my reign. On my orders my people constructed vast edifices, entire generation suffered and died under the lash for my glory. And my people, so simple to control, at times of war and famine they hated me, during peace and prosperity they loved me, but who minds the distemper or joy of an ant.

But now, with the colonization of the stars and the conquering of the earth, my time has passed. On reflection I wonder what it all meant, why did I commit myself to such an extended reign? I can find no satisfactory answer save some irrational compulsion, some internal itch that demands scratching. And now nothing remains but to start again, after all I have the day off.