I have a great appreciation for the fantastic, tales that skew perspective from the the literal, oblige me to question my interpretations and assumptions concerning the past, however certain I might be of my beliefs and conclusions. It is the purpose of good fiction to broach possibilities, illustrate a different viewpoint to fact, to stretch probability to the very extremes of ingenuity.
I also like the truth, not the amended factuality of political expediency, rather the reality of actuality, that form that with circumspect analysis can indicate both caution and helpful instruction for any person eager for enlightenment. There are a certain horde who consider such a purity of recollection unnecessary, a burden staying their ability to weave strange fantasies that favor their particular slanted perspective. Manipulators of honesty, liars, cheats, counterfeiters, enemies of today and all futures imaginable. It is for every individual to fully grasp the differing notions of reality and fiction, and weight their actions to embrace the authentic.