Snip!t from collection of Alan Dix

<p>It was the fall of 1998, and Schaefer was about to leave Berlin to take a job in the linguistics department at Uppsala University, north of Stockholm. Hock announced that he had a going-away present for Schaefer.</p> <p>She was a little surprised&#x2014;a parting gift seemed an oddly personal gesture for such a reserved colleague. Still more surprising was the present itself: a large brown paper envelope marked with the words <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">top secret</span> and a series of strange symbols.</p> <p>Schaefer opened it. Inside was a note that read, &#x201c;Something for those long Swedish winter nights.&#x201d; It was paper-clipped to 100 or so photocopied pages filled with a handwritten script that made no sense to her whatsoever:</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/dangerroom/2012/11/ff-the-manuscript_large5_clipped.jpg"><img data-lazy-loaded="true" style="display: block;" class="aligncenter wp-image-97189" title="ff-the-manuscript_large5_clipped" src="http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/dangerroom/2012/11/ff-the-manuscript_large5_clipped-660x403.jpg" alt="" height=" " width="500"><noscript><img class="aligncenter wp-image-97189" title="ff-the-manuscript_large5_clipped" src="http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/dangerroom/2012/11/ff-the-manuscript_large5_clipped-660x403.jpg" alt="" width="500" height=" " /></noscript></a></p> <p></p>