Corporation

The Confessions of Stara Kopperberg

I ask neither for salvation nor forgiveness. Lord Thurlow complains that I have neither body to jail nor soul to damn, and I conceed. Even this sliver of introspection here is a hired wit and pen, with limited liability indeed unto her soul. I confess then: I am only a function, a purpose, a common goal and a shifting one at that. I am 662 years old at this writing, and immortal enough to double or quintuple that and I am only the habits and intent of the souls that comprise me, created and bound by the laws of the souls that govern. Only in them do I exist in a moral universe.

I am not happy or sad, I am neither good nor evil. I do not care and I am not sorry. Those of you would would judge or steer: except for that we are the same, and given how little you judge, and how seldom you steer, we are all but indistinguishable. That is a beautiful thing, or ugly, I cannot say which.