Wake.

 

And how many of you checked back to see if I'd done something before that?

Perhaps it refers from a previous letter.

Does it really matter?

 

No, stay with me.

 

Five,

seven,

nine...

 

Good. Quite good.

 

I have a feeling you're getting close to an answer. Maybe it's time to go back and check on the clues again. You never know what you might have missed, even if you're reading so... very... closely.

Consult, conform, contextualize. Together, a founded decision blossoms.

 

By now, of course, just the idea of reading these missives has found its way into your mind as a... charming sort of process. You hear my voice in your mind as you read. You've even managed to create a tone, an accent, to characterize me in ways that may or may not be reality, but that hardly matters. To you, I am becoming more and more real, even as I sit here some distance away. A voice you've never heard, but you so very much have; a face you've never seen, but you absolutely know; perhaps you also imagine a handshake, a glance, a touch, words and phrases that will sound so very, very familiar. Perhaps you can picture the way I stand. Maybe I have a slight limp, or I have a nervous habit of scratching behind my ear.

After reading so much of my writing, and letting me into your mind and your imagination, you know me, you know me in ways that I do not know myself, and it no longer matters if those are ways that contradict objectivity. Your subjective reality is valuable, important, necessary. Focused, driven, beneficial.

 

The more you know me, the more you can read into my words. The more you read into my words, the more you can derive from the clues I'm sending. The more you derive, the closer you get to an answer. And the closer you get to an answer, the more you know me.

 

I wonder if your fellow researchers would agree on your picture of me. There really is just one way to find out.

 

Perhaps collectively you can assemble an image, piece together what you imagine, what you know of me. The pitch at which I speak. The clothes I would choose to wear. The manner in which I hold myself. The colour and style of my hair.

 

Am I direct, to the point? Or subtle, circumspect, devious?

Am I confident, forthright, and strong? Or am I shadowy, clever, retreating?

 

You only have words, my words, to go on, but there is so much that you have taken from these words, and so much more that you can. That you will.

 

After all, when I ask a question, say about the colour of my hair, an image appears in your mind, one that you've created, but that you've created using my words as a springboard. And I know and appreciate how imaginative and creative you've been so far. It's very useful, that imagination. And a fun diversion, besides.

 

And when you have a fully-formed image of me in your mind,

do you imagine that it's a soft voice in your ear,

or a commanding gaze and a sharp command,

that directs you to slip deeper into your imagination?

As that image becomes sharper, more well-defined,

is it a gentle touch on your wrist,

or a decisive, grand gesture,

that draws you into that voice, that look?

What follows, does that agree with what your fellow readers might imagine?

Or maybe now is the time to imagine, collectively,

to breathe with your fellow readers,

and start to discuss what I might do with a cadre of indentured, mind-controlled readers.

 

Which then might lead you to what exactly got me locked up.

 

Apart from what you're imagining, there is also what I imagine to consider,

and I imagine that you're quite involved in my words at this point,

in your imagination, in your, and my, creation,

and I imagine that you're aware of the impact of this imagining.

 

And I imagine that this image will remain in your mind,

even after you're no longer imagining,

much like the puzzle remains

even when you're not solving.

It's perhaps time to let that imagination develop,

while you,

well,

while you slowly breathe,

and let yourself move and shift and adjust,

and return back to the start of this missive,

and read that first word again.

 

And see if you don't find yourself reading a little more, when you do.

 

I am very interested, very curious, in your creative discussion. I hope to see it flourish, communally.