[ WP ] You are 18 years old , and you 're writing your autobiography for your entire life . Write only page 147 .

How could I have know he was planning to use my invention for his own selfish schemes?! I was but a simple engineer who had dreamt of creating the perfect snowcone, and he had gone and made me the inventor of a soul-rending machination the likes of which the world had never been meant to know. 
 
 `` You ca n't! The calibrations have n't been made yet. What about Elsie!? What about your two year old?!'' I cried out to my assistant who had locked himself in the inner chamber where the main line of pressurized helium was running. The glass that separated us was only two inches thick and yet by the sad smile on his face I could tell that what separated us was nothing else than the river styx itself. 
 
 He mouthed something imemmorably sweet that I could not hear. The motion of his lips behind the sound retarding glass is a sight that is forever etched into the bowels of my mind. I could not forget it even if I would desire such an end. He was only twenty three at that time, but in my senile mind he remains the bravest man who has ever had the misfortune of being hired by me. 
 
 His hand wrapped around the carbon fiber handle leading off into the edge off into a curved axe's edge. Time slowed to a crawl as he lifted the orange cheapo axe over his head and grit in teeth. For a single second he hesitated and I could see his eyes widen in one last despairing scream. `` I want to live!'' The message did not need deciphering. 
 
 At that instant he smashed downward with axe in hand. The crawl of time slowed further and the wicked edge's gleam shone. In my mind I saw the result before it had even touched the pipe. The thick outer insulation would give way almost immediately to the axe and the metal below would follow, perhaps it would only manage to make a scratch, perhaps even less than that. It did not matter in the slightest as the sound of a terrifying explosion and the shaking of the ground beneath me signaled the end. 
 
 It took less than an obsidian knife slicing off the millionth off the end of a second before the pipe burst. His body was crushed before either he or I could notice. I take comfort in thinking that perhaps he did not feel pain as his soul was extricated from those mangled remains. The glass turned white as the helium depressurised. Frost formed around the edges of the small window slot and my the skin of my hands was ripped off from the sheer cold as I tore away my hands....
