On February 29th of 2016, my human form received a letter in the mail that, as far as we could see at the time, was entirely nonsensical. There was no return address on the envelope, and it was signed by the February Man. The letter is long and hard to read because of how it’s written.
I have placed a link to the part of the document published on chapter 6 of the 8-13 Project, Book 1 below.
Three is the number that hopes for seven in a world owned by nine.
Think that I may, for one or other reason know the wishes of men, who by different circumstance, where that is your only reason for wishing them a friend; the friend whose hand be always willing and is helpful, and I am truer that I will never also under circumstances all know to be your own, know and see what the honest who, the honest real you of what it is the world did; When did all that came from love of desire or evil?
Three was once the number that hoped for seven when the world was owned none owned by nothing, owned by you by me and by them, by what is and by what isn’t, a world that wants to be flat because it appeases a broken need for pain and injustice. I know, I know, I know… The walls are small here unlike in the east, where the walls are smaller, and people are taller even if you believe it or not. Blindly the walls grow as they grow in the west, where we are all headed, and I see it; I see it all I see what the walls don’t. What the walls cannot see.
I know the shadows well, I know where they hide; they live close to me and my memories, they live in my memories. They live in your memories, too, and hers and theirs. We know each other well enough to be strangers. Those men you wish were friends whose hands are always ready are ready to be ready – ready to help and to help those who stopped helping – always ready to stop. I stopped tomorrow, but only when I was ready the day after tomorrow.
Remember that three is the number that hopes for seven in a world owned by nine.
As Peyton writes at the end of chapter 6 of The 8-13 Project, Book 1.
And so it goes for seventeen pages of seemingly incoherent stream of consciousness. I initially dismissed it as a joke that one of my over-intelligent friends thought would humorously waste my time and left it aside for weeks, until a moment of clarity when it occurred to me that there could be some meaning hidden in the nonsense.
And there was…
The letter is not written in stream of consciousness but in a predetermined pattern that hides an ominous warning.
The first sentence, which reads “Three is the number that hopes for seven in a world owned by nine” Is a reference to the third, seventh and ninth words of the preceding paragraph, which, in turn, form the sentence “I know where your friend is – I also know what you did.”
A warning or accusation that reoccurs for the entirety of the letter, a warning repeated twenty-four times. To which friend is the February Man referring, and what is it that they think I have done? I have tried to apply the same pattern logic to the rest of the letter but have found nothing that makes sense to me. I may be missing something; it is also possible that there is nothing to find. I have left the letter aside again, but have softly hoped that other letters would arrive. None have.
The February Man is not a man, she’s a woman, and one my human form has not met before last week. The woman who wrote that letter is, however, part of an extended history of working with disinformation and misinformation. We share this short writeup here to let you know that we know.
Thanks for playing.
— The Devil Unbound and his faithful friend, Peyton J. Dracco.