With good reason I write of this now. It is the time for fullness & frankness.  A time for clearing the air.  I do not now, nor have I ever considered you worthy of my enmity but I do foresee a time when that happy situation could be turned on its head.  Furthermore, it is my honest opinion that you have entertained similar thoughts on the likely passage of future events.  We both are now aware of Tmaa’s attempts to launch a germ-line of his own and of its hideous consequences for the populace of his abyss.  Nothing could be more certain to threaten our own positions than the emergence of variety now.  One of us is living in the crack of doom, depth of depths, abysmal abyss.  We two alone have yet to reach evensomuch as a narrowing in our descents.  We must maintain our primacy in all affairs, not just those abyssal; without complete control we cannot hope to command the resources further descent will require.

& so Tmaa.  He lives still and is rumoured now to be budding prodigiously.  Those he commanded into the liquidity loops aren’t about to put a stop to his ruthless immersion.  It is for us, the last of his cleaving, to put him in a position that benefits both our ends.

I have three articulations on this matter for your consideration.

No movement should be allowed to flow from the dissolution of Tmaa’s fortuitous buds.

Eradicatory methods must resolve flow issues as these are promoting undue inventiveness.

Tmaa must be returned to his lodge-brew with minimal context. No retention without detention is the command of the S1R1B.

This is a test of wetness, we shall not be found dry in this or any other business and we assume concurrence is swift in your councils as it has been in ours.


“Have you read this?”
“I have, I was going to ask if you had.  What do you think, is it. . . current?”
“It’s more current than anything we’ve got!  What’s more it was scent-primed.  They sent this, they meant this.”
“Have you sent it on yet?”
“Not yet, I was waiting to see if it would power-up and broadcast itself, but so far it just keeps coming, shows no sign of going and is beginning to get itself noticed.  I’ll have to send it on soon. . . but I am getting used to having something truly perplexing to mull over for once.”

Feet.  Thousands of feet and legs.  Thousands of feet and legs.  I moved further back into my crevice.  There had to be an end soon, but which end was it going to be?  The front head or the rear head?

“It is just as perplexing as you said and I share your reticence at sending it on. . . but I must tell you something that may change things.  I was sent here this morning to clip you and take your office for myself; they know it’s here and they want it sent on. . . I’m not, I can’t clip you now. . . I don’t know why `cause clipping’s what I do.


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