This may be one of the most empathic asks I’ve ever gotten.
Yes, it does bother me. As much if not more than it bothers humans, because I’m pitted as your foil for an eternity and a half. I have to listen to you simultaneously vilify, denounce, and outdo me. Sometimes in the same breath. “Ha! You’re a demon!” “Monsters don’t exist!” And “look what we found in a cave in Southeast Asia! Aren’t you glad we’re so much smarter than you?”
To hell with that.
I answer to no god, no man, no fiction of any kind. And I certainly won’t allow you to drop the whole alphabet down on my head in a bevy of Black helicopters, so pardon me if I don’t tell you everything I know, nor even bother to seek answers via the only means (human means) I have available.
The only way I’ll have of ever discovering anything to do with my species is owning a company that can eventually, oh…say thirty years from now, do as I tell it and never divulge a word.
It pays to play the long game.
I have questions.
That’s going to end up on my tombstone if ever there’s a grave for poor old Simon.