Moments of lucidity come less and less.
I don't think I can write anymore. I'm going to find someplace to
store this, someplace to hide it, where the shepherd will not find
it. I need to find some way of putting it out there, some way of
offering warning.
There's a rubik's cube in my backpack.
I don't know everything the shepherd knows, but I know the cube must
be delivered. I know I must offer others to the Cube. I must lead
others to the Unanswerable Question. It's too late for me.
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