Dear,
Sometimes an organization is treated as a metaphor that refers to one ethnicity. Whether they are it, or not. In defining them in their self-serving interests, that is probably the most important thing to focus on. Their imaginations and plans are based on agglutinative characteristics.
"With love, Lefty." I think of that every time I re-read my letters. Each of my works, brought from the Soviet, is wonderful, and each clearly represents the fact that it was created by my cunning hand. But I, once an artist, have not long to live. The previous version of you chose to forget the history. Then I, who know it all, have the responsibility to reveal the truth of it.
Your organization was established almost a century ago. I was then a humble scholar. You were escapees from a quietly disintegrating reality, a gathering of ethnic groups who were nobodies, running around the world with a hazy shield named the protection of humanity. If you can, I would like you to remember. I was there once.
The airships of their knowledge flew through the earth, and their vessels rode up to the land. Before long, the masses were attracted, and those who showed up to greet them increased in number. More samples were brought in, numerous bookshelves were isolated in a single room to store the piles of materials, and the Initiative was born. And there I would sit at my desk through the night, living for them by the light of a lampshade. Namely, we became one organization.
But then, you excavated a forbidden technology of tampering with people's memory.
The act of forgetting things contradicts that of recording them. We must not be forgetful aristocrats, one of them pointed out. "We forget the people we are supposed to protect, and humanity, which is supposed to be protected, forgets us. Then there was nothing there from the beginning." The cracks created by the secured development of human science extended not only to memory, but also to the organization.
But you preferred above all else to choose to conceal the fear into the darkness. You were afraid. And so your revolution was done overnight in a corner room. Cutting them off, you all gulped down a few bottles of the drug. Had it been in our presence, it would have been stopped. But we cannot go into your memories again by any means.
And thus you board the vessel of ideals chanting "Secure, Contain, Protect," and once again you sail far and wide into the world. Your organization will thrive, leaving the ignorant audience behind, and the veil shrouding the world will block out the light with memories. But for now, keep your drug away to the side. And please, think back. It was not something accomplished by only thirteen people.
I who was a nobody became a nobody once again, and the people who were nobodies turned into those who are truly nobodies. All that you have acquired in oblivion is a nobody.
As such, I will now be a nobody, and will assist others in following my own normalcy. But it too will not last long. Come here and find this correspondence in a dusty room, along with a worn-out seven-string guitar. Lastly, I only hope that you will find the love of those who are nobodies, and your one and only left-handed old friend.
── With love, Lefty.
How nostalgic. You had always been a lefty.