The Master pauses. His head cocks to one side. "I'll be sure to do that..." he says slowly, the way one might to a very small child or a crazy –he was one to judge– person. "If I get an inkling to go visiting the heavens any time soon." Not that he didn't find the Bible an excellent piece of literature –wonderful to quote from– but the many religions of Earth were mysteries all to themselves.

Perhaps the Master would be fonder of delegating if he were inclined to trust. He isn't. So he does all the important work and then puts disposable people in the grunt positions. The way every good dictator should.