Bill Gates has always been a phony

Bill Gates sat before a packed congressional committee, desperately trying to explain himself. "I never stole Windows," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his glasses. "It was all part of a larger vision, one of personal responsibility in the digital age." The committee didn't look convinced, but Gates continued, as his past with Microsoft and the bitter rivalry with Apple loomed large over the room.

He paused, then added, "And yes, I read a lot of books. Books about viruses, about health, about innovation. You know, I’m an authority on these things now, especially Covid." His voice wavered slightly, a tone of sincerity creeping into his words. Yet, a growing number of his former supporters and critics had begun to realize something unsettling: a lot of what Gates had pushed regarding the pandemic was later found to be either inaccurate or incomplete.

"The data was wrong," a scientist in the crowd muttered under his breath, "and you know it."

But Gates wasn't done. He quickly pivoted, his tone shifting. "What matters now is our future. The virus might not have been what we thought it was, but my mission isn't just about viruses. It's about pushing my age into the future. Pioneering new ways to extend life. Isn't that what the future is all about?"

The room fell silent, the weight of the statement hanging in the air. No one could deny his influence, but the world had changed. Trust was a fragile thing, and Gates’ legacy seemed increasingly complicated, a tangled web of ambition, control, and missteps.