Who is K.?

Oh how he loved writing! As he sat down and went on to write some of the story, an Anunnaki priest of Ahura Mazda came to him in his mind and asked, who is this K. character? K. is Kafka, who is also a bug. He is the existential void of life, and the alter ego of the Julian character. And he saw psychedelic visions of blue and yellow stream through the room as he wrote the words on his blank paper. He is what Mr. Hyde would be to Dr. Jekyll. And who is this Zarathustra? He is the profet foretold by the story of the coming of age of man. Together they will fight the alien federation and the artificially inteligent cyborgs from Andromeda. The story is now the torment of tragedy. Is there nothing in this life that is worth the suffering of forever existence? Is there a man for whom the words are scribbled on paper, and who is to take up himself the great discovering of Atlantis and all the secrets of the Akashic Records? -He will die, said the Anunnaki priest in a voice that was no longer in his head. -But not now. He will first discover the war that rages in outter space, and as he is the chosen will, will save the galaxy and bring balance to the matrix. -No! As he was writing the words down, the sound of his own writing buzzing in his head, he exclaimed outloud. That can't be, he thought to himself. Writing had always been not only his hobby, but also his passion. Whenever he felt he needed to release his energetic lifeforce, he wrote. But now it was like he was becoming the story... He would return to the fantasy world, and all the magic became real. He would return to the stories in his head, so as to live forever in Neverland and never grow old and die. He had one more adventure in him. The adventure of a lifetime, the Atlantis legend, and saving the world from the cosmic void of existential nothingness was only just beginning, but there would be nothing else after that. That would be all, and that's just that. Swirls of green and purple wondered across the ceiling that had now become one wide like the sky and he felt himself meld into the chair and get sucked into the paper. This would be the psychedelic tragedy of mankind fighting against the nothingness, and the chance of him and his lover finding the mystical land of distant shores, islands in the midst of the forgotten oceans of dreams and Shambhala.