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October 18, 2005

The Eschatologist: Plea

There's a gap in my mental record. I can't account for about fourteen years of my life. Just in case, I'm writing this down should it happen again. You know, so I have a referent.

Every day's the same, I wake to sounds of violence and chaos filtering through the bars. Someone is being beaten again. I've tried to keep my cool and low key. The guards aren't always magnanimous, though.

I know something went wrong. But I didn't do it. I wasn't here. I don't know where I was, or who did it, but it wasn't me, Your Honor.

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