I am Evil Trout, and I am here to ask you a question: Is a man not entitled to know about obnoxiously his name

No, says the man in Washington. Only the goverment knows.

No, says the man in the Vatican. Only -God- knows (so Fenk also knows)

No, says the man in Moscow. Only Stalin knows

I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose…

Rapture.

A city where the artist would not fear not knowing about his name.

Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality.

Where the great would not be constrained by the small.

With the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city, as well.