Z.

All right, is this thing on? Okay. Well, I've been compelled—stop beeping at me!—I've been compelled, sort of, by powers greater and more mighty than my own, to give an accounting of myself. An accounting. That’s perhaps the best way to put it. An accounting of myself. So, who is “myself”? That's a good question. No. The best question. The greatest question. And probably the best way to start. “Myself” is Virgil Walter Nevins. “Walter” Nevins. No relation. Well, if tradition is to be believed—and why not?—if tradition is to be believed, I am Virgil Walter Nevins the Eleventh. X. I. Eleven. Okay, that is anecdotal at best. Not that I've ever really endeavored to do this, but there may have been those who have been interested or curious to separate out the truth from the fiction, or the truth from the friction, and sought verification of far-reaching family records confirming exactly that. Exactly what? To see if there's a way to verify whether or not there's a di...