Barking At 206

Foreword:

Firstly to Alicia. Thank you for your valuable time.
To Mike, Sean, and Francesco, from the then OGME Branch, this is for you. RIP. In your honour as we agreed if ever there was the reason to talk of these things, and to get it off our chests, that we'll be discreet, like gentlemen. We also agreed that there would be rules to how the truth shall be flavoured if ever someone woke up one morning after a restless night and tell what had happened. That for fear of judgement it wouldn't be believed without some measure of research to ensure that what lurks behind the political curtain remains obscure since it's not necessarily evil. But it is indeed of a necessary nature. I do hope with fitting sincerity that you do approve of your new names. Alicia phrased it so wonderfully that I suggested she takes up writing poetry. She said, in the story, we'd all contradict each other like we used to and see who could lie the most under a polygraph. Tell me that wasn't fun. That our versions would lie down like lovers who had an argument — close to the truth, but not hug it and have a romance with the truth. I figure your rank must be quite irrelevant where you are now; apparently, that's how it works when your departure is of a permanent nature. You'll be glad to know I take life in no way seriously. As we agreed we would — after — when we decided we were done with the system — or the system, with us. "After" could easily be used in the stead of a lengthy sentence. "After" IS, after all, a sentence. Nothing carries with it the enormous unbearable weight of finality, like "After". Maybe death does. By the way, I hope you're in heaven. I'd hate to think that they lied to us about heaven too... We were lied to about everything else, it now seems so many years — after.