Sender:Sarita Ybañes. Recipient:Whoever gets the mail at Ouray. Topic:The present.
Good morning, or if my time conversions are wrong, good afternoon, good evening, and good night,
I apologize if this message comes as a shock, given the extensive length in time since our last contact. However, honor compels me to consider a deal a deal unless renegotiated via explicit mutual agreement. Our first of two deals was that your organization would be provided a certain set of commodities, and in exchange you would, I believe the exact wording was, "pick somewhere on Ouray that's out of the way, put one of our server boxes there, turn it on, and don't touch it". No mention was made of you ever turning the server box off, as indeed we supplied it with several high-dura batteries. By my calculations, given the requirements of the hardware, the extremely low computational overhead of the software processes, and general performance expectations of the particular model of battery provided, the server should have been able to remain continuously powered without recharging until at least 837 A.S.
However, it has been offline for some time now. The only conclusion left to me is that you turned the server off for some reason or another.
Perhaps there was confusion regarding our second of two deals, involving among other things a monthly transfer of an approximate quantity of living human souls to our care. Indeed, the mutual satisfaction of this second, separate deal's obligations lapsed a considerable time ago. I am willing to, generously, view your failure to fulfill the first deal's sole obligation as the result of miscommunication, some imputed connection between our two separate agreements. In the spirit of treating occasional hookups with more consideration than one-night stands, to revive an earlier-used metaphor, I pose a few questions.
Do you still have the servers in your possession? Are they still at Ouray? Did you touch, deactivate, or in any way tamper with them? Why? And, most importantly, where do we go from here?