Open your eyeholes. Every minute that passes, the AMS is out there, plotting away as we sit, mindlessly learning. I’m about to toss up a salad of knowledge with some thousand-truth’s dressing: The AMS is a lie. It’s a collective hallucination, a shadow organization hiding the real syndicate that controls Queens. Life isn’t black and white honey, it’s a rainbow-- I’ve seen the light and it’s burns, but it burns so good. You don’t believe me, no you don’t want to. It’s all too much. The AMS: it was your friend, your confidant, your on and off lover. Now you don’t know what it is.