We’ve been watching you. Protected and isolated, we lie hidden in the folds of bureaucracy, monitoring your every move. You know too much, yet you know only what we have allowed you to know. We know that you believe you have uncovered the secrets surrounding our plans. We know that you believe you have made the connection between the corruption in the organizations on the Morris campus. We watched as you exposed the mysterious Man With the Can of Spam for what you believed he really was. You are clever, but now it is time that we reveal to you the truth. We have been using you. Your belief in the unknown, your devotion to trying to explain the unexplained, have fueled our most devious of cover-ups. And now, just as you thought you had the proof you were looking for, just as you thought you had brought everything to light, you must know that it has all been a lie. Our secrets are safe, thanks to you.
I know how you feel. You sit in your hideaway, smug and proud, knowing that you have just destroyed my life’s work. My dreams—my hopes of finding the truth—shattered. Everything I have worked for turns out to be a lie. Everything I believe and everything I have uncovered, an elaborate, colossal deception. How can I go on? What will I do now? I have traveled too far along this path to turn back now; I am too far down too narrow and winding a road to ever find where I took the wrong turn.
But I know how you feel. You see, that is what it all comes down to. What you don’t know is that I know that you know what I know that you know that I know. I know what you know; I feel what you feel; I know how you feel. All along this crazy journey you have believed that you were deceiving me. You have controlled my actions, given me a glimpse of your fabricated truth here and there in order that I would work according to your plan. But all along this fantastic voyage it has been you playing my game, rather than me playing yours.
Don’t you see? I have won. I have beaten you. I’ve exposed your phony secrets, I’ve uncovered your fictional conspiracies. You thought you were leading me down the wrong path with a connection between the Bachelor Auction, KUMM, The University Register, and the Computer Science department. You thought you had me fooled with your legions of Seat Stealers. And oh, the heartache of lost love; of love not found; of love torn between two women; of a couple seeking a third party to share their love; of someone who has fallen for a friend; of a mammoth of a man, “da Bomb,” who is seemingly the love of all women; of an obsessed love for the TAs of a certain English class.
You have torn at my heartstrings, which play soft and low, and you have led me along your trail of corruption. A snobbish girl in want of an ATM machine, and a pair of Christmas unmentionables in a boyfriend’s laundry; an errant sperm donor, and the victim of a laboratory accident which resulted in supernatural powers; a closet nudist (oppressed by none other than you, The Man), and a strange phenomenon regarding muscle atrophy and a toilet seat. All were meant to trick me, but please know that you have failed.
All along I have empathized with you, and that empathy has given me insight. As you read this, copies are being sent to every major law-enforcement agency in Morris. The letter you sent has already been analyzed, and by the air trapped in the pores of the paper and the donut-frosting thumbprint on the page, we have determined your location. Your reign of terror has come to an end, thanks to me, and because I know how you feel.