ABSTRACT
It had already gone four o’clock in the morning when my
Toshiba suddenly jingled into life again - but this time it didn’t stop
short: once more I heard its mechanical purring and watched the long
white sheet slowly pour out until at last it curled across the carpet in
baroque swirls. Astonished at its length I tore it off and read:
My dear J.,
I was most frustrated when I found that I could no longer
send the brief messages with which we were still managing
to maintain contact. Oh God! (I have not had time to correct
this expression on my modem translator and accept its
suggestion - “Oh shit!” - although I suspect that this is not
an exact enough translation): I even went so far as to strike
my machine in anger and it went dead! As a result I had to
find an unlocked room with another machine to use instead!
