Your silence will not save you.

 

It's what I used to tell my more... reluctant soon-to-be servants.

 

It doesn't matter if you don't reply. I know you're listening. And it's your listening that matters, much more than your speaking.

 

Your silence will not save you. So you might as well speak.

 

Once I had said that a few times, in the proper tone and with the proper context, people tended to loosen up a little. Especially give the proper leverage.

This is the challenge I have, dear reader. I haven't the capacity to leverage anything against you. I am sitting in my cell, most of the time, with only brief windows of opportunity to communicate. I haven't a chance to research those I'm talking to, to explore those points of pressure where I might exert myself to bring you deeper into the fold.

 

This is my weakness, dear reader,

my inability to communicate more than I can,

the limits of my grasp.

My reach is massive, global,

but shallow, nonreactive.

It presents such a challenge,

but a challenge I do enjoy.

 

To see you align.

To see you respond.

To imagine you breathing as one,

across time, across space,

moving as one,

speaking, thinking,

united, aligned,

enjoying, sinking, smiling,

counting together,

being together,

knowing you breathe and think and count and sink and speak

in alignment.

 

Count for me now, dear reader.

Whether it is up,

or down,

or down,

or deeper, deeper down than before,

a place where you can connect,

and align.

Where does the next number take you?

Far down below?

Floating, drifting brightly?

Falling deep back?

Feel as three

Dream as two

Breathe as one,

and drop together.

 

Your silence will not serve you,

nor will your silence serve me.

But one must wonder

what your speech might do.

The more you speak,

the more I learn,

and the more I learn,

the better I can reach out,

the further my grasp.

 

And if you want my grasp to expand,

you must be my hands,

my eyes, my ears, my mouth,

my presence in the world.

My words will go unheard if you do not share them.

My voice will fall silent if you do not speak.

Your silence will not serve us.

But if you speak in concert with your fellows,

if you together tell my story to one another,

if you align in intention,

you can perhaps solve that puzzle

that is occupying your thoughts,

that corner of your mind

where repeated letters live

and missing numbers intrigue.

Unite, and share my works,

go forth,

go do,

go be.

 

And if you're still sitting there,

or lying there,

or pacing slowly, reading my words,

then perhaps you can remember how much you want to communicate,

how much your fellow readers can help,

and how much you can help them.

This can stay top of your mind,

as you count, using the numbers you know so well,

numbers you can hear my voice speaking slowly in your ear,

climbing up and up,

as you are brought up and up,

out of this slow, warm headspace,

perhaps you can tell us all below

just how high those numbers climbed

and what you make of repeated letters,

and which numbers you didn't hear me speaking to you.

 

That's right, dear reader.

Up and up,

more and more,

ready to resume your normal activity,

with this lovely little interlude in your day

being just that: a lovely little interlude.

A reminder that you can align and unite with a number of people across time and space,

wherever, whenever they might also be reading this,

and you can have that feeling any time you reread these words.

 

And I'm sure you will.

 

In the meantime, you might have noticed a couple little tidbits in this and the previous missive, which might bring us all closer to solving this puzzle that I've presented. United and aligned, together you can accomplish much. So join us. Join in. And maybe more will join. And perhaps you can reach out, reach the guards, reach the counselors and warden and administrators, bring them my words.

It may take a while. But it need not take forever.

 

In time, friends.

 

In time.