~~ Interlude ~~

I wake at 6:48am for that is my custom.

I rest not more than 12 minutes, one unit, a fifth of an hour, so that I am about my day by the seventh chime. Over-rest is as debilitating as under-rest and renders soft one’s body and mind. I cannot afford to be soft.

Vigilance is the soil of greatness.

When I awake I check the cameras to ensure that my house is empty. Bedroom, bathroom, hallway, staircase, entrance hall, living room, kitchen, dining room, study, garage. Only when I am certain I am alone do I rise.

Vigilance is the price of responsibility.

I make my bed as soon as I leave it, for cleanliness is next to godliness and an ordered house brings an ordered mind. I run on the treadmill for thirty minutes to maintain fitness and cardiovascular health. I set the speakers to play Franz Schubert’s Four Impromptus, D 935, for classical music stimulates mental acuity. I cease. I wash myself. I see to my appearance. How a man presents is how he is known to the world. I brush my teeth for the count of one-hundred and twenty, rinse and swirl mouthwash, apply cleanser, hydrating serum, then moisturiser with an active SPF component.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Vigilance is the safeguard of prosperity.

I dress. My shirts are ready, pressed and starched by my own hand, for I must be self-reliant. I select a pastel blue, for yesterday I selected a pastel purple, and the progressing gradient serves to effectively mark the days. I put on a white undershirt, I put on trousers, I put on socks. I put on a pair of medical grade, powder free, disposable, non-sterile, food-safe white latex gloves, size medium. I put on a pair of tan leather over‑gloves from my collection, a decision I permit myself to make at random to allow for spontaneity. I put on the selected shirt. I check my gloves are sealed beneath the sleeves and that the sleeves are correctly buttoned, once, twice, three times.

Vigilance is the foundation of safety.

I re-check the cameras. I descend. In the kitchen, I prepare a breakfast of bircher muesli with Greek yogurt and seasonal fruits. In the dining room, I consume my meal along with five-hundred millilitres of chilled, filtered tap water, which I mentally convert to 16 fluid ounces to assist my American cultural acclimation. I sit in silence and stare down an eight-seater dining table which has only ever sat one.

It is 8:12am. I have not yet killed anything I did not mean to. It is the only measurement for success.

~~ End Interlude ~~