Dear Prof. Rearden,
I, Haruhi, wish to whisk you away to a faraway world named Earth 3^(n-42) where magic is in every word of prayer. Where the Gods preside over every man and their kin, nations have their disagreements. Where The Man decides, from himself He derives the cultures of creation. Yet man still young—in his twenties—pulled by indigent bootstraps to war lives his life unyieldingly.
Yet he is still a young man, and like a young man, he is selfish. Whereby selfishly he claims through war his fame he is destined to be the lesser of his subordinates. Cruel irony in life that through infamy he'll thrive but destroy every one who loves him. And never though any fault of his own; his circumstance is by fate all ready-made.
The Gods do avail of theater and play—the actors, the arena, the show. An endless entertainment for all who'll avail it, the other to man in mirrors shown. An end-of-monthly subscription for grading and a mission to complete two chapters each time. From April to May through February and March on the first and sixteenth, is whereabouts I will arrive to deliver a chapter and wish you thereafter a merry, joyful time.
See you soon,
-Haruhi