Everybody digs a name like Cyrus.
Being a nerd is tough. Nerds travel through life the hard way, hanging with our gang, looking to carve a little bit of turf out for ourselves. Gotta make the other crews respect you with a little bit of force, or they’ll take what’s yours, you know? Me, I rolled in a gang for years. New York in the 70s was like hell on earth. My crew used to get dressed up in baseball uniforms and KISS face paint, and we’d patrol Riverside Park, looking for punks who’d enter our territory. If we caught the Rogues or the Van Cortland Rangers sneaking around… well, I can’t tell you what we did, but let’s just say we also carried several wooden bats. Hoo-wee, we were tough muthas.
Looking back at it all, it seems like a waste of time. We didn’t own that park… the city did. We’d beat up the Turnbull ACs, and then the Riffs would kick our ass, and so on. It was an endless cycle of violence. But then, a leader appeared. A man named Cyrus. He talked about strength in unity, about respecting our fellow man, and taking the whole city on. That guy could hold a crowd in the palm of his hand, just with the power of his charisma. He ran the biggest gang in the city, and even that was too small for him. See, Cyruses (Cyrii?) think on a much larger scale than you or me. They think about the big picture. A boy named Cyrus can tap into that energy, and his ambition could potentially change the status quo forever.
But listen, I don’t want to alarm you, but you should know: there’s a slight chance your son Cyrus may grow up to be a criminal. After all, there are plenty of villainous Cyrii: there’s Cyrus Tolliver, and Cyrus Gold, even Cyrus the Virus. However, each of those gentlemen may have the wrong intentions, but they’re all born leaders. Getting their morals right, well, that was their parents’ job, one which they apparently failed miserably. I’m sure you’ll do much better.