Letters to a Prophet #2: Scry Harder
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Warning: The following document contains an Et-Class Textual Anomaly (Threat Level-Minor)

Document 16265-15719-B

After Foundation efforts to track and contain the creator of Document 16265-15719-A proved unsuccessful, resources were shifted to the monitoring of newspapers distributed nationally in order to enable effective containment of any future columns from the same origin. Four weeks after the publication of Document 16265-15719-A, a new column appeared (henceforth 16265-15719-B), and was successfully contained prior to wide-scale distribution. However, a number of copies of the document appeared on various internet news outlets the following day. Following the publication of this column, Mobile Task Force Omega-27 ("Bad Deer Hunting") has been tasked with the location and containment of its author.

Hello once again, dearest readers. It is I, Saturn Deer.

Now, let's get right to it this time, no mucking about, eh? First, we'll-

Wait a minute.

What do you mean you have no idea who I am?

Oh god dammit!

Let me guess, you didn't read my introductory column, did you? Fucking figures. I go to all that trouble, have a big flashy intro bit with huge bold letters and everything, and you assholes just go 'herpy derp, I wonder who won the big game last night?' and go read the sports instead. Yeah, I'm talking to you, guy with marinara sauce on his t-shirt. Yeah, you too, blondy. Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to waste space and energy doing that shit again, just for you morons to lose interest and run into traffic or whatever you people do. No, I have a better idea…

Look at the nice kitty. Now squint at the cute kitty, just a bit. Now, pet the lovely kitty. That's a good reader.

If you're reading this on a computer, that means click it, stupid.

All caught up? Yes? Good. Bloody ingrates. On to the letters:


This one was instructed by Production to contact Saturn Deer. Proved simple, given attracting factors. Publicity a non-issue. This one will issue an inquiry:

Model 4950, domestic metal light source, new series, high hopes by Production, Sales, Management. Contains additional features beyond mundane model; activated by thought, stores thought, enables thought on additional spectrum, improves virility. Issues; thought-activation faulty, producing unpredictable side effects- cerebral tumors in adult males, extra limbic growth in adult females, unstable reality altercations in children. Effects constant, device unstable, requires optimization. Problem Resolution unable to find a solution, this one issued Advisory Command. Assistance requested from Saturn Deer, proven useful in the past, adequate compensation promised.

Factory Drone #654397, Problem Resolution Hive

Factory Drone #654397? Are you by any chance related to Factory Drone #578805? He's in Sales, I think. I tell you, that guy could party like no one I've ever met, and that's saying something coming from me. Man, there was that one night we went to the club dressed as a salt-and-pepper set, and he just railed every single-

Er, probably irrelevant. As to your problem, I think you're approaching it from the wrong direction. You see, all you need to do is adjust your parameters; what does "unpredictable" mean anyway? If it causes tumors 100% of the time, that's damn predictable as far as I'm concerned. Sure, the customer might not be all that happy about that huge growth in his head, or his now Code-Greenifed kid, but that's not your problem anymore, now is it? After all, who the hell is he going to tell, what with that tumor pressing all over his language center and his kid turning the house into bees? It's a problem that solves itself.

You're welcome. Oh, and you better not try and pay me with those CDs again. I appreciated the thought, but those things wrecked hell on my productivity.

Deer, you sly old dog!

I can't fucking believe it! You're alive! You were telling the truth all along. Man, this is just hilarious. Oh, you must not remember who I am. It's me, the executioner! You know, from Argentina? Me and my mates caught you preaching your bullshit in one of our control sectors? C'mon, you gotta remember that! I was the big guy in the cameo gear and the nipple pincers. Pretty sure I removed your toe nails at some point. We all thought you were just full of crap about that whole reincarnation thing, but looks like you were legit all along. Guess that we should have saved all those bits we took off you, could have been useful. Oh well, no use crying over spilled bone marrow, I suppose.

So, how the fuck are you doing, mate? I know we didn't exactly meet under idle circumstances, but I felt we made a connection back there, in between all that torture, that is. I thought what you said about the whole prophet business sounded real profound, and no mistake. Give me a call sometime, eh? We'll go out for drinks, talk some business, maybe I can kill you again, for old time's sake? Ahaha, I crack myself up! Just like we did with your ribs!

Oh, would you mind keeping this quiet? Not sure my superiors would appreciate me talking to an ex-corpse and all. You know how they get. Just to be safe, I ain't signing this one. Knowing you, you'll pick this shit up no matter where I am anyway. You just love seeing your own name, don't you?

Oh, perish the thought! Me, snitching on my great friend Operative Pedro Gonzales? Never! To even suggest that I would on turn you, Operative Pedro Gonzales, Chaos Insurgency, Liquidation Squad 9, currently stationed in Buenos Aires, Dockside, Warehouse 56, let alone turn you over to your superiors or any other faction who might be interested your horribly painful interrogation, is frankly insulting. Oh, and no hard feelings about the whole torture business, no worries.

To the foreign fugitive Saturn Deer,

This is your last chance to hand yourself in for the crimes you have committed against the Senate, the Republic and the People of Rome. By law and country, I find you guilty of:

  • Collaborating with the enemies of the Republic in a time of war
  • Sacrilegiously taking the name of Saturn as your own
  • Spreading false rumors and vile propaganda, besmirching the Republic's name
  • Tempering with the lawful conduct of the election of magistrates, and seeking to sabotage the sanctity of the cursus honorum
  • Conducting experiments in the fields of chemistry, biology and physics without licence or membership in the Alexylva University
  • Impersonating an Augur and delivering false and worrisome prophecies
  • Handling a Gladius-Class submarine while intoxicated
  • Seducing the daughters of the Republic with lewd suggestions
  • Publicly befouling the statue of the Consul Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus
  • Indecent exposure (as part of the aforementioned incident)

These are not your only crimes, for those are beyond numbering, and beyond forgiveness. You are a blight, a vile blemish on the face of the Republic, but by the name of Clementia we are willing to give you your life if you confess to them and show honest repentance for what you have done. Submit yourself to our judgement, and you may live in exile. Stay hidden, and you will be hanged on the Field of Mars. Our experts from the University assured us that it is likely you will be able to see this message, for we invoked your full name.

By the will of the Senate and the People of Rome, I am Preator Gaius Paullus Varro

Oh no, not this again. You'd think that with a name like Saturn Deer, people wouldn't mistake me for someone else every five minutes. You reached the wrong Saturn, mate, or rather the right Saturn but from the wrong universe. Guess your University 'experts' could use some more time working on their quantum physics, and maybe a bit less time reading shit in animal guts. I mean, I might be into the whole reincarnation thing, but even I'm not old enough to have personally insulted the Roman Republic. My other-universe counterpart does sound like a totally rad dude though, so I think I'll take the liberty of replying in his name:

Pedicabo ego vos, buddy.

Oh, and screw your allcaps shit as well. I might be a dick, but even I'm not enough of one to make my readers suffer through a whole letter written like that. Next!

To the receiver of this letter,

If you do not forward this letter to ten other people before the moon passes the third ring, and add a naked picture of yourself if your'e attractive, you will be inflicted with a terrible curse! Your eyes will rot in your head, your ears will be forever sealed with wax, your tongue will be replaced with silly putty, your nostrils stuffed with Peanut M&Ms, and your pubic hair accosted by vultures. Heed my warning, for I am the great Saturn Deer, and my wrath is both swift and terrible!

Huh. My old chain letter. Completely forgot about that one. Well, I better get to it then. Now where did I put that camera…

Hello again, Mr. Deer

Let me start by saying how much I appreciate you posting my letters in your column and answering them. I know my problems are small and banal, and you taking the time to try and help means the world to me.

I'm writing again because this last week has been a bit strange. I was never the most popular guy at work, but it seems like my coworkers been ignoring me more than usual lately. It's probably nothing, but it still bothers me. My new neighbors on the other hand have been real friendly, maybe a bit too much so. They keep checking on me, asking if I'm okay, if I need anything. I hope they don't think I'm crazy or lonely something, and are just trying to be nice about it. Though, to be honest, I am lonely. That's nothing new though. So, to finally get to the point, I wanted to ask if you could recommend me some self-help books. I'm trying to work on myself a bit, and I figured you'd be the best person to ask about this sort of thing. Oh, and that recipe for rice squares was great, by the way.

Thanks again,

Zachery Knor

Oh, hey there Zachery. Looks like my latest attempt didn't do anything either. Guess I shouldn't be surprised. Look, I'm going to tell you what I told you the last five times you wrote to me. Well, the last two times, since the first three were just me basically telling you to go fuck yourself. You don't have a job or a home anymore. Hell, you don't even have a name. Your coworkers have been ignoring you because they're not really there. You are held in a facility where people who don't have your best interests in heart are monitoring you 24/7. Those neighbors of yours? You're just a number to them. The saddest thing is, it's not even their fault. It's yours. The only thing keeping you in this situation are your own abilities, and there's nothing anyone can do to change that. I felt so sorry for you I actually tried to help, and it's beyond me. I can honestly say that it pains me to admit this, but there's no hope for you. You can't change, not ever.

Oh, and I'm glad you liked that rice squares recipe, it was my mom's.

Well… that got real fucking depressing real fast. Damn.

I was going to share some of my grand visions with you, my dearest readers, but that last letter kinda took the fun out of it. Instead, let me leave you with something else, for now. A window. Give it a touch, don't be shy.

Clicking never stopped being a thing, by the way.

Now, I have no idea where this is going to take you. It might be somewhere you never visited before, or someplace really familiar. It might be terrifying, or heartwarming, or beautiful. Wherever it goes, just keep an open mind about it- you might find out something about yourself that never occurred to you before. Even if you don't, it could be fun. Go on, take a trip, and tell them Saturn Deer sent you.

I get a percentage for that.

I was Saturn Deer, and I bid ye adieu.

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