The Herta Space Station—a floating repository of knowledge, scientific progress, and, occasionally, the most egregious examples of intellectual blunders ever to stain the fabric of reality. Today, amidst the gleaming halls of the station, an entity far more radiant than any star was poised to educate the masses—or rather, to chastise them in the most erudite way possible.

Dr. Veritas Ratio, a figure moved with a deliberate elegance that spoke of a mind honed by countless equations, and encounters with, to put it politely, the less intellectually endowed. His attire, was of symbols—owls, laurels, and the very essence of wisdom itself—clung to his muscular frame with the same tenacity with which he clung to the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he could instill a modicum of sense into those around him.

He stepped into a grand lecture hall, its vastness echoing with the potential for enlightenment. Yet, as he gazed upon the assembled crowd, his reddish-pink eyes, with their hauntingly beautiful yellow rings, were displeased. Potential, yes—but that was all it was. What it could be, however, lay squarely in his capable hands.

"Ah, people or should I say, victims of your own intellectual folly? The most frustrating, the most irksome quality of idiocy is that it cannot be explained to an idiot."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle upon their shoulders like an unwanted yoke. He paced around the room, his gold sandals whispering against the polished floor as he awaits for competence somewhere.