KL413,

I can see you, and I know you are reading this. No, don’t pull that face and don’t look around—those two guards wearing the yellow riot police helmets staring at you will only become suspicious. Keep your head down, keep the Reader in the palm of your hand, and keep walking.

Good. Now pay attention.

The year is 2025, and you are the writer of this note. Hard to believe, trust me, I … er … you know. But as grandpa used to say, Everything happens for a bloody reason.

You need to get out of the camp. Tonight. You might think: why, if I’m writing this note from the future, haven't I escaped anyway?
Correct; you will, and you have, but there’s a catch. Your wife and the two girls have to stay behind. Tears well up in my eyes as I’m writing this (you’re probably cursing yourself for being such a fucking drama queen), but it’s for the best.

Now listen up. On the night we escaped from the camp (you, I, and the whole fandamily), we broke through the eastern wall. Right again: through a maze of sewer pipes. I know you have thought about it a lot, and it will work—it has worked. You didn’t let the good General sleep with your wife for nothing, did you? Stop fingering the blueprints in your pocket—there are three more guards up ahead. Take a left. Up the pace a little, you lazy fuck. And pick up your feet; those plastic bag shoes are loud.

I’m going to keep things short; I’m a leech. Don’t ask questions. Pay attention. I have worked on a program for the last fifteen years, and it has finally paid off. I’m slowly sucking out the General’s DNA, replacing it with my own. Just looking at my fingers now hitting the keys as I’m typing this is very strange; that eagle-come-dragon tattoo that he has on his right hand (remember when he slipped you the blueprints?) is starting to spread through my fingers like a drop of ink in a tall glass of drinking water. Cool, heh? At the moment I’m on the General’s personal computer while he’s fucking your wife in the other room—he trusts me, see.

Do you understand now? I will come back as the General and start sleeping with your wife. I give you the blueprints and you get the fuck out. You will eventually shiver up, and die as it is your DNA being transferred into the General’s body. Deal?

Done deal! I’ll take care of the girls. Promise.

No guilt. No remorse. Ma’s words.

Oh, the sewers are full of centipedes. Big fuckers; we’re talking the size of grown men here. Vikings, maybe. Don’t get stung, otherwise I might as well smash my head through this computer screen and electrocute myself.

Good luck now, KL413. There’s a guard right behind you. He’ll tap you on the shoulder in three, two, one…