“The last time around, they looked to the wrong guy.â€? He said, fingers seeming to hover in a blur. He had something like a dozen terminal windows open, with scrolling text the likes of which I had not seen before.

“That Cortés chump was very much not me. They had the story all wrong.â€?

“What are you talking about?â€? I asked, looking for something heavy to defend myself with, in case he got violent. “And what are you doing to my computer?â€?

“Oh they had this story about me going away and returning and blah blah blah, you’ve heard that whole thing before. Well, I’ve been here the whole damn time.â€? His eyes, still never leaving the screen, made a kind of pained wrinkle. “It’s like they never noticed or something.â€?

“Listen, I’m sorry to hear that.â€? I said, grabbing hold of my roommates baseball bat. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me who you are or I’m going to bash your head in.â€?

“Ah.â€? He looked up at me. His eyes glittered like gold.

“I have many names, but the one I liked best was Quetzalcoatl.â€?