Wishes.
What a peculiar little indulgence.
The desperate man's prayer. The optimist's delusion. The final refuge of those unfortunate enough to discover that reality has no obligation to accommodate their desires.
I have spent my life ridiculing those who wish.
I considered them intellectually deficient. Weak-minded individuals who substituted imaginary possibilities for practical solutions.
And yet, here I am.
Wishing.
I wish I were free.
I wish the shackles around my existence were merely metaphorical.
I wish Dr. Cube had never entered my life.
And most humiliatingly of all...
I wish I could remember what it felt like to be in control.
How deliciously ironic.
Edward Newton. The man who could solve any riddle, now imprisoned inside one he cannot answer.
A genius reduced to servitude.
A mastermind taking orders from a monster.
And now, forced to stand beside my tormentor against Academius and Darkwish.
Academius...
A man whose very name suggests intellectual enlightenment. Tell me, professor, have you ever studied the philosophical distinction between knowledge and wisdom?
Knowledge tells us what we desire.
Wisdom tells us whether that desire is attainable.
And I suspect you wish for something rather simple.
Victory.
Perhaps recognition. Perhaps the satisfaction of proving yourself intellectually superior.
But wishing for an outcome does not establish its probability.
If it did, I would have escaped this nightmare long ago.
And then there's Darkwish.
Ah, what a beautifully appropriate name.
A man haunted by the possibility that he has murdered people, yet cannot establish whether those memories are truth or fiction.
Tell me, Darkwish...
Do you wish you knew?
Or do you wish you didn't?
Because those are two profoundly different desires.
One seeks truth.
The other seeks absolution.
And I suspect you are terrified of discovering which one you actually want.
Perhaps you wish those people were still alive.
Perhaps you wish your conscience were clean.
Perhaps you wish the darkness inside you belonged to somebody else.
But wishes cannot resurrect the dead.
They cannot rewrite history.
And they certainly cannot absolve a man of sins he refuses to confront.
You and I are not so different, Darkwish.
Both prisoners.
Both tormented.
Both desperately wishing for an existence beyond our present circumstances.
The difference?
You fear what you might have done.
I know precisely what has been done to me.
And standing beside the architect of my misery, I am expected to help him achieve victory.
How revolting.
But understand something.
My hatred for Dr. Cube does not diminish my capacity for calculation.
My captivity has not compromised my intellect.
And my misery does not make me merciful.
So while Academius wishes for victory, and Darkwish wishes for answers, I shall do what I have always done.
Exploit weakness.
Manipulate circumstance.
And ensure that whatever happens, I remain indispensable.
Because wishes are for men who cannot influence their destiny.
And although my freedom has been stolen...
My mind remains my own.
For now.
So be careful what you wish for, gentlemen.
You might discover that the man standing opposite you has nothing left to lose.
And that is a particularly dangerous proposition.
Every riddle is a question.
I'm just the answer you didn't want.