Dear Elliot

Dear Elliot,

I'm writing to you because I need a big favor. I can't depend on anyone here. I've been the victim of some outrageous rumors. They are calculated, of course, to cast doubt on my claims. You may be the only person who knows me well that they haven't gotten to. You know more about me than any of them. You'll recall how many times I pulled your bacon out of the fire in calculus at Cal Tech. I remind you of that for two reasons. What I'm going to tell you may sound irrational. It is admittedly fantastically bizarre, but you of all people know me to be an intelligent and reasonable man. And of course, I need you to do something for me; and perhaps you will feel that you owe me because you and I both know you would not have gotten your degree without my assistance.

I've spent all night thinking about the problem and I finally have it figured out, but I'm simply outgunned, so to speak. If you're not sitting down, Elliot, you might want to before you continue. And please remember as you read further that this is coming from me, the guy who saved your career before you even got started.

There is a cell of terrorists who meet in the apartment next to mine. I suspected them for a long time, but now I have proof. I made the mistake of making a comment to one of them about the 9/11 attack on the Twin Towers in New York, and now they know I know they were involved. They have started a campaign of retaliation to frighten me into silence. Oh, they are tricky. There is nothing overt about their intimidation. A certain look or sentence spoken in Persian, a rubber band in an unexpected place. For some reason they have chosen rubber bands as symbols of their threats. I am finding them in places they should not be -- even inside my apartment. It is a very effective way to communicate their hate and their intentions without leaving evidence that would be meaningful to anyone else. It's like a secret code they've created just to let me know that they know I am on to them -- and that they are watching me.

I am sure you are wondering at this point why I haven't simply called the police to have them checked out. I did that, of course, but all the police did was come out and talk to me. They even accused me of harassing the Arabs. I suspect that they have someone in the police force that has spread the rumor that I'm a nut.

During the last week, things have escalated and they are now retaliating in a very physical way. I know this sounds crazy, but they found a way to transmit microwaves into my brain. Not just through the apartment wall, but wherever I go. It is painful beyond belief. I do remember one day last week when I slept most of the day. I'm not sure but I think they may have released a gas into my apartment through the heating vent, and then slipped in while I was sleeping and surgically implanted a device -- some sort of receptor -- under my scalp. I can feel something on the back of my head that wasn't there before. I know they intend to destroy my brain so I won't be a threat. So far I've been able to think straight but the pain is becoming unbearable and it is only a matter of time.

That's why you have got to hurry, Elliot. I need you to contact the CIA and the FBI for me. They won't take my calls because of this rumor that is circulating that I'm a nut case. You need to convince them that I'm not some Looney-Toon moron. You know how intelligent I am, and you can convince them. You can see why I need your help.

I'm begging you, Elliot. Not just for me but for the country we both love. These guys are technically a lot more sophisticated than the average American realizes. They've invented things we haven't even dreamed of yet and they are bent on destroying America. As crazy as it sounds they have even come up with a way to read thoughts. It makes them nearly invincible.

I'm taking a big chance even writing you, but I have discovered that if I wear a hat with an aluminum foil liner that they can't get to my brain for almost an hour. It varies some. I think sometimes they forget to check. Then I think they switch frequencies or something because it is always temporary.

Don't waste any time, Elliot. My life and the fate of America depend on you.

Your friend, Morgan

P.S. Don't contact my mother. She is in league with them.