Dear Dr. William Abernathy,
I’m writing to you, though, you don’t know who I am. While strange, even to me, to think that I’m sending correspondence to a man that may never meet me in person, it is your theories and understandings of the universe, and the ways in which sound affect us, that I wish to have such a conversation with you. This is certainly not to suggest that you are but a creation of your theorems, but that it is the sole interest that I have with you right now.
As always, please forgive my cold English heart, though I’m acutely aware of the nature of the Pacific Northwest as a place that perhaps has London buried deeply in its soul. Much as our interests, our locations are but kindred spirits in a world that is all too dry.
You see, there was a man and a woman in my shop today. I’ve never met either of them before, but he (above her) puzzled me, and asked me questions in rhyme, coldly, and using a bell as aid. I don’t know if you’re aware, but it is incredibly difficult to speak to people that only asks questions in rhyme while ringing bells at you, and I do hope that none of your students ever force you into such a situation. He was a small man, or at the very least, I think he was a man, and she a tall woman with an ornate sword by her side, but even I am aware that sex has very little to do with a person, but in that a person is exactly who they are, or who they are meant to be.
I work in an auto shop. My mechanical knowledge is slightly know around the slums of London, but beyond that, I know very little about the ways of science and machinations, and yet this man sought me out, or so claimed the woman with him.
Do you know why?
He asked me if I knew how to make a ‘Repeating Machine.’ I don’t know that I know what this is. As I’ve come to understand, you are one of the few in your field, and some even claim that you are the best among the few. Leave it to my small English heart to swallow pride enough to reach out to you on that front, as I’ve already talk to all that I know in my own country, and even they couldn’t tell me anything beyond the slightest inclinations. Apparently though, this man wishes to ring a lot of bells all at the same time for a purpose none of them understand.
I do hope that you might be able to help. I have little interest in letting a customer down, and even less interest in being behind this man at all.
He didn’t sit quite right with me. The bodyguard never allowed her hand to sway from the hilt of her sword.
If you would but send correspondence back to the return address, it would be much appreciated. The nature of this customer’s claim does hang upon your shoulders. I send a bounty of forgivenesses for placing this upon you.
With all due respect,
Norwyn ‘Wyn’ Langley, Jr.