The Savage Letters: Flint & The None-Seeing Eye

October 10 - 58

Urgent! For PROF. GERRICHT SAVAGE's eyes only.

Dear Prof. G. Savage.

It is not common for my correspondence to act as more than a telling of the facts as close to the truth as my fickle memory may muster. Since defining the function of Madistone house much information of procured curios has been communicated with little aplomb or embellishment. I fear however that on this occasion the circumstances demand a slight deviation in tone.

It is well within your knowledge that attempts at intellectual espionage have increased. Whilst these are themselves singular it is the curious behaviour of the residents of Connollham coupled with these acts which demands that I ask of you a favour most unprofessional but nonetheless life-affecting. Before the query is made it demands your full understanding. If you would kindly set aside sufficient time to read this in detail I would like to recount the peculiar sights of Flint and The None-Seeing Eye.

Ideal (Drabble)

At the centre of the rings of the heavens lies the almighty. The vast circumference of ethereal consciousnesses in their termini swarm ellipses around the radiant; all that is holy in the firmament. It is Ideal.

You are summoned, that you should be next to touch absolution. Gravitating from the swirling ooze of distinct being you are ready for unity. Ready to coalesce with the epitome and the perfect. You accept that the ideal becomes you and reach in both mind and soul. Although as you dissipate never let it be forgotten that once touched you simply become the Ideal.

The Truth - A Prologue

Message sent on 23:12 17/04/2010
To: AMS@adnews.cc
From: [withheld]
Subject: I know who L. Carmen is.

I am K.W. a freelance journalist currently commissioned by The Beagle in Marsham. It was while driving to report on a story for the paper (the local unrest on Madistone hill) that I encountered the pictured radio tower. I assure you it is relevant.

The location of this tower remains with me and I shall not disclose it until I am heard and answers are given to me. There are many of its kind along the route, as there are many in the area, and so its location is not trivial.

Passing by the tower along an undisclosed motorway my mobile phone encountered some interference. At first I hadn't noticed anything particularly strange about this, being mostly static, but after a few seconds a clear signal comprised of beeps could be heard over the mess. Having already interrupted my call, my curiosity dictated that I pull into a nearby lay-by and listen in. I should point out that my phone has been heavily modified by a tech-savvy friend of mine (who shall remain unnamed) for undisclosed purposes, and so it is also highly unlikely that you should discover the signal yourself. I'd been assured that the modifications would eliminate all interference, so from what I understand the signal was technically being sent on an impossible frequency.

The beeping itself was curious and highly unlike any normal digital broadcast pattern I know of. I felt it was more like morse code than anything. Recording the signal to my dictaphone (which I still possess) and replaying it through the phone when back out of range, I sent this to my aforementioned friend who expressed great interest. Before long we were together traversing the fields of... Well, I'd best not say. Before long we encountered the source of the interference, the signal tower.

My friend assures me that this tower should, to all intents and purposes, be obsolete and without power, broadcasting and receiving nothing. Nevertheless the signal persists and, after some time, we could decipher it as being encoded by a method which, again, we shall not disclose. The signal itself has a range of approximately 50m, a radius in which nothing else is contained that could receive the signal except us.

The signal itself was slow and unsteady, but it was the information being sent that was of great interest to us. For some bizarre reason this message consisted entirely of unrelated facts strung together in a non-coherent fashion and of unknown origin. The subjects ranged from geography, technology, history, politics, television dramas, video games, incredibly obvious statements, tautologies through even to local gossip. The only connection seemed to be that each of the statements was being transmitted in reverse alphabetical order.

After some hours recording and decoding in the unseasonable weather the news of yourself and L.C. was transmitted over the signal, directly to us and only us. You may claim this information unsubstantiated, but once this catalyst was known to me enough significant evidence could be procured to make the fact inescapable. As further proof I disclose the following key words: channel, roses, perfume, bootstraps and forgery. Let this serve as evidence of both my honesty and ability to discover a great deal from the little information the tower provided.

I have written up the entire story and am ready to publish at The Beagle. This story could easily launch my career and collapse your own and I have little to no hesitation in allowing its release. Indeed The Beagle have offered me quite a sum for its disclosure, even with the extremely obscure details I have given them. Nothing incriminating, I promise.

However I give you this opportunity: If you give me a better offer than that of The Beagle, an explanation as to the background of L.C. and what, if anything, you know of this mysterious 'truth tower' I may reconsider my submission. Should you comply I will promise to yield from publishing and disclose to you the location and encryption of the tower and its signal, a tool I'm sure you and your papers will find very useful.

You have 22 hours to respond, after which I publish.

K.W.


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Message sent on 00:46 18/04/2010
To: AMS@adnews.cc
From: [withheld]
Subject: RE: My collection

Those sound like the stories of a desperate man. Give me one good reason to believe you.


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Message sent on 01:02 18/04/2010
To: AMS@adnews.cc
From: [withheld]
Subject: RE: Proof

When and where?


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Message sent on 11:02 18/04/2010
To: AMS@adnews.cc
From: K.Wry@toandfromail.cc
Subject: RE: Offer

Alexander Savage,

My rates are £15 per hour with fully paid travel.
I can start tomorrow.

Kirstie Wrycroft.

The Diet

"I f***ing hate dieticians. To them reality is entirely about obsessing over what they eat and what they drink."

Jacob Bricklebury was a senior researcher for MI1, specialising in robotics and the innovation thereof. His current occupation was designing reconnaissance and combat drones, specifically in reducing aerodynamic drag and efficient refuelling. To him his work ultimately contributed to the scale and length to which a war would be fought, the weight of casualties on both sides of the battle and the overall geopolitical landscape of the war zone and resulting debris. Consequently when a dietician enters his life and demands that he stop eating crisps, he decries it as an infuriating triviality.

The Savage Letters: Elusion, The Riddle and Nostalgia

September 12 - 58

Dear Prof. G. Savage.

Of course it is well known to you that our attempts to engage our antagonist failed. This man, perhaps collection of men, are to be anything but underestimated. Their foresight stretches leagues beyond ours, and such are their abilities that we may not yet be able to explain them.

However what may seem to them as mere incidental losses present our faculty with a fine opportunity for installing permanent fixtures for our anomalous studies. I would consider this a great step back in our assumed position in the race for knowledge, a minor step back in our containment of the problem, yet a great step forward for foresight and planning. This is completely besides the fact that we have procured two more anomalous items in the process (perhaps three, see addendum). Hence it is my prerogative to present to you the farce and warning of elusion, The Riddle and Nostalgia.

Anniversary of a Tragedy

The gathering of recruits amassed in the courtyard awaiting the speaker, backed by a crowd of well-wishing folk come to join with the day's events. General McKay gave a dry introduction to proceedings surrounded by the usual regalia of such militaristic showings. The day was a significant anniversary of the war which ravaged the western world and today the new recruits would have the fortune to hear an account of a soldier who had been in the fray. As introductions were made, pomp and standard respects set in motion, the hunched and wizened frame of Captain Howard Dean was introduced to the stiffly attentive audience and the civilians behind who would attend to pay their yearly respects.

Rückstadt and Vorausdorf

For the benefit of The Council, the following is a brief synopsis of Rückstadt and Vorausdorf and a typical inhabitant thereof. Most information has been expunged through lack of interest, but the finer points remain.
- Dr. Clemént

On the morning of the 13th February in the year 1843 Abbie Wrycroft awoke on the outskirts of Bickley wood, Southeast of Bristol, nestled amongst the grasses and hedgerows. As she stood, brushing the dew from her tangled hair and blinking into the terracotta sunrise, she began to wonder what nocturnal escapades may have led her to her current location. The setting was familiar, the landscape recognisable but not enough to pin down the memory. It was not long before confusion had gotten the better of her waking mind. She would have preferred to continue to sleep in the grass, had the alarm on her mobile phone not awoken her.