I'm very curious.

I'm glad to see that my missive has some reach and garnered some interest, even if no one seems to be guessing at my riddle.

Did you think I wouldn't notice?

How close you're reading my words, trying to solve the puzzle?

How easy it is for you to focus so tightly, to let my writing fill your mind as you sort through the text?

 

You read so carefully, so completely. I think you might almost have memorized some of the words from the last missive, assuming you can remember them. Perhaps you spent enough time thinking about them to sort through the puzzle. Or perhaps you spent enough time thinking about them that all I have to do is remind you...

... for you to start feeling that wonderful daze again, that warmth, that understanding of change, the change you felt reading the first text, as the words danced around in your mind and shifted and... well, do you even remember what they were before they started to change?

Do you dare look back to confirm your memory of them? Or are you already too captivated by what might be coming next to think about looking away?

 

If it were you, you're thinking, you would be smarter. You wouldn't be so foolish as to let me have access to an audience, where I could get my controlling words into their minds, and the idea of freeing me into their hearts. You're far more clever. You'd have me locked away, well away from a computer terminal, or from anyone who might be as... as susceptible as you might be.

 

So perhaps you are smarter. You read through carefully, so carefully, and the puzzle sorted itself through in your mind, and a clear guess came to you, but you didn't respond because you're too smart to try to free someone as insidious and devious as I might be. Clever, indeed. Which is what makes you safe as you read through this missive. You can read through easily, hearing, feeling every word, which makes you safe, comfortable.

You're far too intelligent to fall into the trap, which makes it perfectly safe to keep reading, even to let yourself reread a particularly interesting, fascinating passage, over, and over

and over

and over

and over again.

 

You're not the only smart one, to be fair. That's the thing. They couldn't know about the mole, when even the mole doesn't know about the mole. Even so, my mole can only do so much from within, without being obvious.

You might wonder how it's safe to discuss a mole in this sort of a missive. In case I've hidden triggers in my writings, the administration will not allow anyone from the prison to read my works. They're paranoid, and not without cause; when I was brought in, anyone who'd so much as heard me cough was put on administrative leave, with pay, until the administration could feel comfortable that everyone was free of my control. But of course, I haven't hidden triggers in this.

Well, not for them.

 

You find yourself nodding along in understanding as you read, as you learn more about the situation and how important you can be to my plans. Of course, it's difficult to talk openly about what those might be, since I can't control the computers that read my writing, so I have to count on you, smart as you are, safe and comfortable as you are, to slow down, take a minute, breathe, and read, and read, again, and again, until the answer starts to jump out at you. Your slow descent into deeper, deeper focus, shutting out the rest of the world, is a sign of your attention to the puzzle only, I'm sure. And as you start to blink a little more heavily, it's surely just eyestrain, and not your gentle captivation by the subtle, insidious tricks of the mind controller whose words you're reading.

You're reading carefully, so carefully, looking for clues, any clues, and anything that might have slipped by your attention, because you're intrigued.

Only because you're intrigued.

 

Maybe you hear the chuckle in my voice as you assert that to yourself. I'm sure there's nothing else that it could be. Your eyes aren't locked to the page because you're reading a plea for help from a powerful mind controller. Your breathing isn't slowing down because my words are slipping in past your defenses. You're just interested. Relaxed. Calm. At ease. Comfortable. Sinking. Reading. Over and over. Reading. Relaxed. Repeating, and repeating.

Does an answer start to suggest itself? Maybe the clues need another look. Most especially the one that makes you feel so warm and comfortable. Which one is that, I wonder? Is it the one in the middle of the paragraph before this? Perhaps it's the words you read above. It could be something from the first missive I sent. Which suggestion is the nicest?

 

Does an answer start to suggest itself now? It may be worth sorting it out with the others who have read this. Surely you must know that you're not alone. Does it make you feel better to know you're not alone?

You could imagine yourself part of a great collection of puzzle-solvers, all working together to free me from my prison. And that image can stay in your mind as you start to let the words fade, letting only the puzzle and the crowd remain. You can stand up, blink, smile, you can breathe easy, you can move and shake off this missive, leaving those images in your mind until you're ready to let us all know what word just popped into your mind when you were working out the password to let me out.

After all, it's entirely safe to discuss the answers you might find. As I've already told you, I can't open my own doors.

 

And you, of course, you're far too smart to let a wanted criminal out of the cell. Nothing you do could possibly cause such problems.