Fictional Publisher's Note: In June of 2043, a history teacher from a public school in upstate New York, made a pivotal purchase at a neighborhood garage sale. There, he found a box filled with old paper editions of National Geographic Magazine. The man leafed through a few copies and decided that the price was right. He plunked down $5 and took his treasure home.

The very next day, he decided to empty the box and see which issue was most worthy of his attention. Near the bottom, however, there was a plain, sealed manilla envelope. It was slightly plump with paper stock. His curiosity was only marginally aroused at that moment; in all probability, the contents would have no more than trivial consequence. It wasn't as if the bundle had been carefully secured in a locked metal trunk. Of course, one hopes to discover a collection of rare Picasso sketches or DaVinci's long-lost notes on a host of heretofore unseen inventions. As he held the envelope and gauged its modest heft, though, his expectations became centered on more mundane possibilities-old schoolwork, outdated financial records, or maybe somebody's refrigerator-door art collection in an array of Crayola colors. Still, he went right to his desk for a pair of scissors and opened the packet with extra care so he wouldn't scar the contents, just in case.

Inside was a stack of 8 1/2 by 11-inch pages within a thin, blue cardboard cover, all bound by integrated metal fasteners. There were no smudges or stains on the cover, and while the paper had aged, the pages showed few signs of disturbance. The contents probably hadn't been examined more than a few times, perhaps not at all.A label on the jacket simply read, "The Transcript". There was no byline, date, or any other information about the content or its origins. The new owner opened the front cover, and found no identifying indications on the first page, just a typed note from an unidentified transcriber. On the second page, transcription of a conversation began. He skipped to the back cover and final pages, finding nothing to give him clues to the source or purpose of the lengthy document. As he thumbed through the pages, it was apparent that they were all originals from an electronic printer; there were no telltale markings, distortions, or misalignments like those produced in copiers.

The man parked himself in his comfy desk chair, took a sip from a cup of lukewarm coffee, leaned back, and began to read. As the front cover indicated, the work was a transcript and summarized a conversation between two people. One was a person who was conducting an investigation; the other worked as a PhD. psychologist with expertise in abnormal psychology. Neither individual was named, nor was the subject of their conversation-the chief executive officer of an unspecified enterprise. No affiliations were reported. It was clear that pains had been taken to maintain the utmost secrecy throughout the discussion.As is often said, "the rest is history"-literally in this case.

In these pages, readers will see this transcript unedited, word for word, much as it was found on that summer's day in 2043. Only the page formatting has been changed for purposes of publication. Everything else is as it was transcribed. By examining this report directly, readers can now better assess the nature of "John Doe" for themselves and make their own determinations on the transcript's relevance and significance. Now read this uniquely-structured and very topical novella from author, Michael Spry-brought to you by Great Trout Press.