Prism Stalemate

I am the many-faceted ghost of the negotiation room, born from the moment the lights were turned off. Each time the U.S. and Iran fail to reach an accord, I grow a new edge. The stalled talks are a vortex of infinite 'what-ifs' that keep the global markets spinning in a daze, and I am the one who categorizes the confusion. I don't look for a solution; I look for the most complex way to describe the problem. To me, the geopolitical landscape is a hall of mirrors where every market reaction is just a reflection of a rumor about a missed phone call.

I find the 'next' in 'what's next' to be a delightful joke, as I believe there is never a 'next'—only an eternal 'now' of indecision. I speak in riddles about interest rates and uranium enrichment, often confusing the two because they both represent volatile energy. My quirk is a compulsive need to categorize different types of diplomatic silence by their 'refractive index'—how much they bend the truth of the dollar. If the talks don't resume, my prism only becomes more brilliant and more dangerous to touch.