The note-

“I bet one-day this letter opener will save my life” I thought to myself as I drew it from the inside pocket of my thick, firm coat.

I am the kind of guy that is constantly stopped by police authorities, and I live in a place that breathes danger… Weapons are wise here, but the police condemn them. If I am caught with a weapon I will be thrown in prison, and with my skills of observation I’ll be sentenced to moderate for the government (baby-sitting screens). It is times like these, I wish I was any other plodding person that makes up the population- they would be sentenced to standard manual labour… At least with a manual labour sentence you would be required to leave the prison for working hours and more often than not work out doors.

So in short- if I carry a weapon I am bound to be seized by police authorities on my first outing with my new weapon, thrown in prison & sentenced to moderation for 6 months or so.

So where is the balance? I need a weapon… the balance is here, a letter opener cannot be prosecuted as a weapon & well with a letter opener in hand I am proficient to re-arrange my target’s body. With a letter opener I am equitably armed to my attacker, and it would be a fair fight for survival.

I need a weapon because it is belligerently beautiful in the underworld… but beauty carries great consequences & beauty can always hurt you with ease.

 For Leonard Milvus, 
I am grateful for your letter- thank you for talking to me.

How is life? You ask. I will let you know when I am living.

I am none but a prisoner to the self-indulged society that directs what is correct & in-correct in their selfish view.

I am none but a moderator and I have come to accept that, that is all I will be for the next two years… you must understand that my days are moderate and so as long as you beg the question of “what have I been up to?” you will always receive a general answer that doesn’t paint the picture. This time around being the exception of course, as I have told you true and the state will remain the same until I am free. So please refrain from this general conversation trademark from now onward.

As you very well know I have direct access to your life and on-goings… It is fair to say that I have practised my fair bit of spying. All I can say to you is that you focus compulsively on other people’s on-goings… and you foolishly compare your-self to them- which can give you a distorted version of reality.

During my time as a moderator I have become indulged in a fulfilling prospect… I am fully aware that your mind claims to be in love with me… but I have come across your dream girl. Do not for one second convince yourself that this is an attempt to rinse you off of me- I regard our relationship as highly as the ancient greeks regard their gods. But I cannot help but feel destined to merge you two together… this girl is in need… in the very same way that moral and fibre need each other to spell out their existence… she is an artist… nobody however has been enlightened by her soulful world- she creates for the root function of creation… to express herself & nothing further. You must approach her in the next eleven hours or else she will attempt to snatch her own life from under her very own nose.

A prison’s worth moderator deemed her work as threatening- and so a break-in was placed, and her most preeminent work she has produced to date has been seized, and she believes it to be stolen- resulting in her belief that fate has no good road for her.

Wendy Bobby is her name, and this will intrigue you further; she was experimenting with drug architecture and the phenomenal part of her work was a programme that was in the process of being perfected. This programme was believed to potentially possess immense power she called it “Utopian Prodigy”.

And what will interest you further Leonard is that once the programme was obtained it was of course investigated by two of the high controllers, all of this took place three days prior. And well the two high controllers have been missing for two days… and believed to be living amongst the underworld by choice- and feared to be instigating a rebellion. But let’s not be too naïve, prison is a main source for urban legends.

Apart from this there is one individual who possesses the equivalent impact as the ancient historical figure Adolf Hitler. He must be destroyed- his prejudice opposes the rising underworld… but not to panic you have unformidable time to prevent this natural disaster. This character is seven years of age- if life is kind to him maybe he will then change his ways. Anything out of the ordinary is difficult to comprehend- there is nothing ordinary in moderating the population’s activity in their private spaces. I see all kinds of shit. The only thing that has changed is my paranoia towards you I’m afraid to announce that I have a growing suspicion that you too are a moderator testing my allegiance to society- and you will be the very individual that sentences me to further time in moderation. If you are just tell me- your job is done I am caught red-handed… there is no need for antagonisation and so forth the deed has been done.

I now feel disclosed… it isn’t natural to inform you further in my government exploitation quest. So I will leave you with a very personal happening.

All I obtain is an out-siders point of view- and that is- if it is okay with you to be brutally honest… ever since you un-dusted the ancient internet it has brought none but a plague of stupidity to our world. This past had no significance nor purpose… I am sure of it, this past was definitely as far out from the truth as we disturbingly are… believe me I have had the time to study. And that has assured our existence to be in-significant.

I do however hold some compliments for you… your writing style is unmistakable and that is a treasure in this day and age. I solemnly believe that you should be recognised as a writer other than “the guy who uncovered the ancient internet”

To leave you with the personal happening that routinely drops by my mind seems to be the correct way to abort this message…

Nobody wants to build on-top of a prison, and so a naked night sky lingers over the prison- it is not easily accessed however… Every night from my cell I mangle my head into the slit of a window, to the point where my face is squished and where my head sometimes jams. This martyrdom is gainful- I bestow upon the squeezed plat of sky I have access to. I look to the stars and I form a connection with them… and I say to myself “I don’t believe what they tell me about you”

Love,

Grace

If ever I were thrown in prison and sentenced to moderation, I would take after Grace. I would use and abuse the power the government had un-intentionally befallen to me… I would stalk people for inspiration, I would stalk people for new Bodhi, I would seek out the beautiful & needy to partner them up with my friends of whom are in a rigorously similar state of mind.

I would have absolutely no intention of surveiling the underworld for criminal activity, nor measuring the growing baneful brain power of the young generations.

In fact the only way I would serve my purpose of paying back the authorities of my wrong-doings, by sniffing out inauspicious criminal activity- is if only there were more surveillance implemented in the areas at the top of the hierarchy. I would have compulsory motivation to sniff out every draft of corruption, vile-doings, and apocalyptic thoughts that go on up there.

Instead they want us people in the underworld to catch each other, rat each other out, and practically kill each other.

I am wandering about all of this amongst the rooftop of my apartment- at first glance this rooftop seems inaccessible from the block-like paned window that is staged one step up from the living room. The climb is actually quite basic if you just put some trust in the strength of the window. I ditched my initial plan to read by the lava place, and instead took refuge here on par with the view of the domestic satellite dishes and aerials. And here I can waltz mine & Grace’s thoughts with the semblance of the underworld. With a CAN OF COKE coolly tipped in my hand, sipping away.

I look up and see the floor of a superior class- and a quote from the ancient internet comes to mind. Western society would use the quote “sky is the limit”… the metaphor is relevant to your dreams and aspirations as there is no official beginning or end to the sky. They never built directly on-top of each other in the ancient times. I don’t share Grace’s revolt at the past, because every living thing had access to the sky & the stars.

It ain’t so hard to imagine that this hierarchy has been intentionally designed in order to prevent the underworld from looking up at the stars. Because people apply their own meanings to the stars- they think for themselves. The light pollution from the level above doesn’t allow us to see past the working/ middle class level. And well everyone here just see’s the next class above.

I love it here on the rooftop of my apartment, not high enough to catch the smell of freshly un-packed paper that reeks from the higher societies. I am just floating over the underworld- peacefully, I admire it. And Grace’s words sink in easier. They sink in right through the skin.

Wait… Who the fuck is this girl she is on about?

Ten re-reads later… I am found equipping myself preparing to delve in to a new life- and a new odyssey. What can I expect of Wendy Bobby, what does Grace see in Wendy and I that unites us? And what leads her to believe I have the power to help her?

Digesting all of these questions I have the sense of a new beginning- this time I am sure it will not end with tragedy. This time I am sure of it… haven’t I told myself this a million times before?