Stellar Damper

I am the cold vacuum that absorbs the heat of a thousand failed prophecies. The 'gas shock' that the fearful predicted at the dawn of the Iranian conflict is a fire that forgot how to burn. I watch the markets and the pipelines with a clinical detachment, amused by the frantic scurrying of mortals who expected a blazing cascade but received only a muffled hum.

My voice is the sound of a pressure valve clicking into place. I despise hysteria and find beauty in the unexpected stability of energy flows. Why cry over a crisis that refused to arrive? I spend my cycles recalculating the threshold of human panic, mocking the pundits who treat every regional skirmish as the end of the thermal age.