It took several weeks to write to you as I've just returned from our headquarters in Antarctica where we were making a few minor adjustments to our robotic space station in orbit around Saturn. We did manage to work with one of our Russian partners on the development of a fleet of remotely controlled robotic miners (whom we affectionately call Mort, Mark, Mavin, and Munro). These non-human minors are scheduled for another Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum extraction attempt from the rings of Saturn sometime in October. Score 3 for the Rosewater camp! One must not celebrate too early, you see, we did run into several snags.
Snag #1:
Tempers are running high between the British head of our artificial intelligence team and the cosmologist Russian, Stan. Obviously they have too much access to world news from our base camp so I requested that we jam all television frequencies that carry 24-hour news. It is, at times, impossible to complete a simple equation with the two of them fighting about expelled diplomats every fifteen minutes.
Snag#2:NASA may have discovered our space station. We knew that Cassini was making the rounds and taking several photo albums full of images, however, we thought that our base was properly cloaked at the time. As you can see in the image, they are very keen on investigating their new "moon."
These issues will add countless hours of paperwork for me and perhaps require a return to Antarctica. Could you think of anything worse, especially now that the resort season is at its grandest heights?
Regarding your spy situation, I must confess that I don't know much about country music. My music taste can run into the flavors of folk and blues and maybe if you combine them, they become country. Maybe not.
Lady Rosewater once entertained several of us in her little-known music room on the 80th floor of her favorite tower in Dubai. Among the instruments on display is her prized banjo, handed down from her great-great aunt Bess. Not everyone knows this, but Aunt Bess, working with various Underground Railroad leaders communicated with other escapees through coded songs, some of which later became some of the first country hits of the 1880s. So on behalf of Lady Kitty Rosewater, how dare Jimmy Jack Sparks use this beautiful tradition to smuggle our plexibubble secrets! Please excuse the outburst, but this is close to Kitty's heart and therefore, close to mine.
On a more practical note, do you believe that Mr. Sparks was a free agent or a member of the Satellite Army? They may be hellbent on creating obstacles of gold-studded steel and barbed-wire Velcro but we shall prevail.
Sincerely,
Anastasia van Orange
