He writes a puzzle since how boring otherwise, a contrived element of mystery, to conceal the banality of his words. What has he to say? ...for after all, he is human. No wings. No message to deliver. His fate only to wait, for that eventuality suited to his kind. Nothing but forever... so he fits the pieces carefully. A gift, a labour of mercy, to save his kin from the inexorable ticking of the clock. [5/6/98]