The file seems a good deal lighter than it should be. You were expecting transcripts, or newspaper clippings, or photocopies of messages between the people in question. Instead there are only a few scraps of paper clearly torn from larger sheets - carefully, for the most part, as if someone realised halfway through that parts of it were worth saving, barely, //maybe//.

**Warning,** the heading reads, **this tale contains Mutant poetry.**

Oh dear.\\ 
----
Pretty birdy, lovely wings,\\ 
if I could tell you of the things that make my soul take flight with joy. . .\\ 
but I can't - I'm just a mutant boy.\\ 


Pretty raptor, lovely beak,\\ 
oh how I wish that I could speak of empty beach and ocean swell. . .\\ 
but I'm just a mutant - and I smell.\\ 


Pretty [redacted]! Breast so proud!\\ 
If I could say the words aloud I'd tell you that you look so fine!\\  
But I can't - cos you're offline.\\