March 22, 2010
Today We Publish EGG to the Nth
Washington, DC
We have given those people Mr. Robert Platte (see: Why We Have not yet Published) pretends to represent a little time to get back to us and have heard nothing. With that, we have decided to go ahead and publish the manuscript that recently came into our hands. We dispute that there is anything illegal or of security concern to the document and that there is a rival legitimate claim to publishing rights.
For context, we will repeat the present rights holder's claim that the work is a machine translation of binary code inscribed in a capsule that supposedly fell into the Arizona desert (see the anti-prologue) highlands some time after 1945. The author claims the capsule was discovered, then disappeared back in the early 1970's and that this “translation†we are calling a machinuscript has been recently rediscovered in Luzerne, Switzerland.
We have made no editorial changes or edits to the hard copy as we received it.
Pasqualino Pasquino
Editor
The Dymaxion Web

March 11, 2010
Nostra Maxima Culpa
Washington, DC
The following letter has been pinned to the Congressional Cemetery grave-site of J. Edgar Hoover and his life partner Clyde Tolson:

To: Mr. Robert Platte
c/o Federal Bureau of Investigation
Dear Sir,
You will be, no doubt, little surprised to learn that the entire story leading to the upcoming release of the “Eggn manuscript”, at eggtothenth.com has been a concoction to enhance the mystery surrounding this work of fiction. Yes, the urban legend surrounding the purported location of a mysterious capsule near White Sands, if this event ever really did take place, has been co-opted strictly for the purpose of embroidering a bit of verisimilitude around a story inspired, so we have been told, by the work of Jules Verne.
Just as the incidents surrounding the Roswell story have been adapted by so many authors and publishers, it was the publisher's assumption that there was no harm in the author taking the “Capsule” story and using it for his own purposes. We apologize if this has caused alarm bells to be raised within certain circles, if that really be the case (something we doubt).
Be informed that as far as we were and remain concerned, the events previously described in the item entitled "Anti-Prologue" were made up entirely out of whole cloth. The author was not attempting to dupe us in this matter, and we were not attempting to dupe our readers.
Further, we concur with the Eggn author that the kind of thinking that went into the Roswell story is outdated and somewhat illogical, much more a reflection of the paranoia generated during the Cold War by certain factions within the political spectrum.
Why, for instance, would the US Government continue to this day to hide the fact that beings from outer space had been discovered in a location near the area of the first nuclear test explosion?
From a scientific perspective, the crash landing, much less the successful cover up, of highly advanced beings is extremely dubious. Even at close to the speed of light, these particular beings and their flying saucer would certainly have had to have already been positioned in the vicinity of our solar system, before even the first wireless signals were sent into space. After all, Alpha Centauri, our nearest neighboring sun, is 4.6 light years distant.
The Roswell beings would have had to be very near neighbors in our own solar system and in possession of an extremely advanced form of propulsion to get here in a reasonable amount of time. Assuming, then, that such an advanced civilization had evolved in this close proximity, we might make a reasonably sound statistical deduction that intelligent life is an inordinately common universal phenomenon and that there are hundreds of thousands of such civilizations just in our own corner of the galaxy. Further, their communications would require electromagnetic wavelengths. In recent years, tens of millions of dollars have been spent in vain by the government through NASA and universities in the quest to capture any signal of intelligent communication in the galaxy.
Are we to suppose that NASA at the height of its prestige would not have been able to penetrate the veil of secrecy around something as significant as the very well known Roswell story and that no Administration hence has had the power to crack that secrecy? After all, the possibilities of backward engineering alone would make the discovery invaluable to science, not to mention government scientists working to solve the propulsion and speed problems that plague today's deep space program.
We feel confident that the publication of Eggn can be of absolutely no interest to any organization that you (Platte) purport to represent. The author assures us that this is a work of fiction and that the time capsule depicted in the "Anti-Prologue" is a metaphor for the period between its authorship and the present dates of first publication.
We therefore defy you to demonstrate any evidence that gives you a legitimate platform to make any of your various charges. Further, you have 5 days from today to make those charges known to us.
Pascal Pasquino
Chief Editor, Fiction
The Dymaxion Web
February 28, 2010
Why We Have Not Yet Proceeded with Our Promise to Publish Eggn>
Washington, DC
We agreed to meet him in the bar of the Mayflower Hotel at 3 the following Monday, a time, we noted, when the spacious, somewhat dimly lit bar is usually quite empty.
There was quite a bit of snow on the ground after the weekend's blizzard that had shut down all of the area, including the three airports. The underground portion of the Metro was working, though quite sporadically. Still, we managed to start out early and only walked in from the hotel lobby entrance about 15 minutes late. Our Mr. Platte was sitting in an isolated corner booth; we told him he would recognize us as a mature couple and that I would be wearing a brown Borsalino. A man stood up and somewhat discretely signaled us over to his booth. It was clear from that single movement that this was a figure accustomed to going unnoticed. Skin pasty, hair partially gray, he wore a gray worsted suit, vaguely yellowed white shirt, nondescript tie and an unreadable demeanor. Strangely, as we approached him, we picked up the scent of a particularly old fashioned after-shave lotion. I could see my companion's nostrils flare slightly as she caught the first whiffs.
When Platte didn't offer his card, it was also clear that this was going to be an unusual business meeting. Particularly after we offered him ours and there was no reciprocity. Our host had already got a tall, colorless drink that fizzled slowly on the dark table in front of him. He took a seat first, then offered his hand. We sat down with our backs to the room and began with some very small weather talk. Then Platte managed to get the attention of the waiter and we ordered a couple of tap pints.
“Look,” I said, “ I don't know who you are or what you want so it's time you put your cards on the table, we've got a lot of things to do today and little interest in delaying our plans.”
“Well,” said Platte, “I'm not sure you'll welcome this but I am here representing people who believe you have no right whatsoever to the material you're planning to publish. The capsule was, as your research indicated, found by a young man who should have turned it over to his employer, the government. Had he, this hoax would never have seen the light of day. You my friend have been duped. There is nothing to the capsule except that it is US Government property found in a sensitive locale.”
“Government property?”
“That's what this all about. And if you persist in going forward with this scheme you will no doubt face serious consequences.”
“Did you say you represented individuals or are you government agent of some kind?”
“All you will hear from me for now is that you have no right to publish this so-called translation that you are calling EggN. You've already indicated that the capsule was probably stolen or taken inappropriately out of a locker at ASU and that it was found by a US Park Service employee. Even if you have gone ahead and got the permission of that former employee –and let us all be clear that the name Thomas Doolittle is as much of a fiction as your recount of its discovery-- you would have no right to the contents.”
“Well, what would you say if we contended that the manuscript, itself is a work of fiction, and the introduction we published was part of that fiction?”
“I am not here to play games with you, sir.”
Throughout, Platte spoke his lines without showing the slightest emotion, as if he himself had preprogrammed our responses.
We paused the conversation long enough to allow the drinks to be delivered and as soon as we were again out of earshot of anyone in the bar (though clearly not that of the video tape being made of the meeting) we picked it up.
“Are you going to say who you are, who you represent and provide the property identity? Otherwise, my inclination is to end this conversation right here.”
Platte's response was slow and menacing: “You will be hearing more from us shortly, in the meantime you would be more than prudent in holding up on your plans to make public this ridiculous work.”
And so, readers, we apologize for failing to follow up with our promise to publish chapter by chapter the translation now in our hands.
We have decided that we have no choice for the moment other then to take the menaces of this man called Platte seriously. In the meantime we have taken precautions to protect the manuscript's multiple whereabouts from theft or intrusion. We will be talking to legal representation and other Article 1 advocacy groups. There is, of course, no way we can protect ourselves from denial of service attacks without a certain amount of aid from certain groups.
Truth in publishing: This is not the script for some modern day film noir, even if we have perhaps been seeing too many in recent weeks.
February 03, 2010
Anti-Prologue
Washington, DC
The Discovery of the Titanium Capsule
On a gray afternoon in late 1984 a battered, cream colored panel truck could be seen navigating a steep, curving incline on NM Route 82 about half way between White Sands and Cloudcroft. About a mile and half behind them followed a late model black Cadillac sedan with Nevada license plates. At one of the highest points along the way, the driver of the van pulled right onto the overlook, and then back as close to the edge as he could get. Another large man from the passenger side seat jumped out, headed to the back of the truck and quickly pulled out a large pair of cable clippers. Within seconds he snapped the double reach of cable on the right side where it joined the corrugated steel barrier post. The splayed cables lay sprawled on the sandy highway edge. Below, the almost sheer precipice dropped down about five hundred yards. Besides a few scattered clumps of brush, and some outcroppings, there would be little to slow the descent of the van as it bounced, flipped and finally took fire in the deserted valley below.
As the gasoline fueled fire raged through the overturned vehicle, a plume of thick black smoke wafted across the deserted valley. It was only two days later that the military command back at White Sands got a satellite report and downloaded a photo of the event along with its coordinates from a system that was being developed and tested for a newly started program.
Already short on security units, Colonel Charlie Landrift, (according to a press article) quickly made the decision to turn the case over to local authorities. The call went out to the State Police in Alamogordo who radioed instructions over to Cloudcroft.
The Discovery
As a kid, Park Ranger Tommy Doolittle would sneak out of bed after lights out on the farm. He had built himself a 6-band radio from a kit he'd seen advertised in Popular Mechanics. There wasn't a lot to listen to up in those mountains back then so getting onto the Base's internal communications always had more recognizable voices than the other short wave bands he could get on different nights. One thing about these mountains, he'd discovered, was some sort of electromagnetic confluence: Depending on meteorological conditions, Tommy could listen to ships at sea on certain nights and he also often captured the downbursts from NASA and other more secret satellites.
Tommy's job over at the National Forest at first made little use for these skills. He drove a pick-up and spent most of his time clearing fire ignition debris. But a couple of years back, a group of geologists from the State University had come over and set up a semi-permanent camp about ten miles up the road from High Rolls. Tommy had met some of the guys quite by chance one day and got to talking with them. One thing led to another and they invited him over to the camp for a couple of beers and that led to a conversation about their communication system. That's when Tommy heard about how they could actually use the telephone lines to dial into their PDP11 system as if they were sitting in the computer lab.
They were standing in front of a cathode tube terminal, Sandy R___ was a little red-faced and on to his fourth can that he held in one hand while he typed instructions on a keyboard with his right: "This here is on a server at Flagstaff but you see this directory," he moved deftly through a tree structure of letters and slashes, "that's all the way over in Palo Alto at Stamford."
With a couple of commands, Sandy had logged into a database of rock formations located at a site run by the NGS. Tommy couldn't believe what he was seeing. The concept of tapping into databases stored in various places around the country brought up all his old questions about what he was doing in the Forest Service. He'd joined up because it was there and comfortable and because he thought he knew that since his mom had passed from cancer, he was needed for a while. His dad, after those pain-filled months, had never gotten over it.
So the next day at work, when he picked up the call between District 8 headquarters and the patrol car about the unreported fire, he decided to head out himself to see what had happened. After all, his crew was breaking up for the day and heading the other way into town to Johnie's Neon Boots, a place he'd never felt right in, at least, since his mom's death.
There were still about two hours of daylight left when he pulled up to the overlook. He could see where the cable lay and that it had been snipped, not broken, clean. Tire marks cut into the edge and when he looked down he could make out what looked like the burnt-out shell. Tommy also knew there was no way to climb down to the ravine bottom from up there. Somebody was going to have to get a hold of an ATV, maybe the one over at the Oppy spread to get down there. He went back to the cab of his blue and white F150 and pulled out of a khaki canvas holder a pair of government issued ranger binoculars for a better look. The sun was getting lower and starting to flare reddish by that time. And it was pretty clear to him that Trouper Ansel Kodak wasn't going to be able to get over to the site until the next day.
As he peered through the glasses, trying to follow the recognizable contours down to the spot where the wreck lay, like a beetle on its back, Tommy's eye caught something that glinted back the sunset rays. He noted in his recount that he had never seen a more vibrant color in all his life. But just as abruptly, the glint was gone. Tommy glanced at his watch to note the moment, marked in his mind the bear's jaw outline of the rock formation where he had seen the light burst and then continued down to finally spy in on the broken panels.
But it was something about that laser-like beam that kept flashing like a neon sign in his mind's eye as he shared dinner with his dad. Even the news about what was clearly a deliberate dumping of the truck didn't really grab the interest of the older man, who Tommy could tell was, as become his manner, only asking questions to punctuate their fork-fulls. As soon as they'd wiped clean the bowl of stew with the ritual slice of Wonderbread, Tommy knew his dad would excuse himself and head into their small den to nestle back in his plaid recliner, placed in front of a very snowy Channel 7, the only station that sometimes made it that far.
"The weatherman over in Las Cruces, you know the one that cottons to Madras sports coats all year round, says it's gonna be a little warmer tomorrow. Seems that the el Niño is gonna keep things drier than usual, maybe right through this year's rainy season. How's that gonna effect you guys?"
Tommy had already started to clear the dishes. He knew his dad wouldn't wait around, not even for an answer to his own question. I wish I knew where his mind really is he thought.
Dead Sea Scrolls II
Tommy had to wait until Saturday but by that time he had figured out what he wanted to do. He'd heard all about the wreck find and how there had been what seemed to be two dead bodies stowed in the back. He'd monitored first Kodak's report and then those of the team that had driven down from the State Police Crime Lab. But he was going to set out on another mission. He had been back out on the overlook both Thursday and Friday and at just about the same time he'd seen that indescribable burst of what he had already dubbed 'nourishing light'.
Even though he'd figured the shortest way to get over there by cutting through Oppy's back acres, and he'd started out just after sunrise to give himself plenty of time, he realized that what looked like a bear's head from up above was not an image that could help him as he tried to plot a way up the slope from below. The problem was that if he waited until an hour before sunset, he'd have to make his way back in the dark.
Three weekends later, and still coming up empty despite all the various schemes he'd dreamed up, he knew he would have no choice but to camp over the following weekend. Maybe then he'd get a look at the reflection from below or if not he'd had the whole of Sunday to cover the area he guessed the source was located in.
But it wasn't until his fifth weekend that he located the small rocket shaped container he had been searching so diligently for. Tommy trembled all the way back on the path the crime squad had blazed the week they'd spent in November. It was now January and even Tommy's dad had begun to wonder what had so taken him over. His crewmates had even stopped ribbing him about his strange distant look. Tommy had not taken his mind off of that capsule from the first time it had contacted him.
Tommy didn't know what binary code was at that time. But the closer he looked at the strange markings engraved in the shiny surface the more he guessed that the marks were neither random nor the product of natural forces. On February 15th, he drove over to the University campus where he met up with R___, G___ and B___ at the cafeteria across from the Geoscience Department. He had on one of those lightweight backpacks they sell in the Orvis catalogue.
"I have something to show you", he said, "and I think we oughta keep it secret, I don't know why but I just reckon you might go along with me on this." They went back across the parking lot and into the basement where the assistant professors shared offices. R____ flashed his card and they let themselves into the area clustered around the small conference rooms. R____ had a key to S22, the one with vertical blinds which they pulled. Then Tommy carefully laid his precious object on the white birch table. He had also come equipped with magnifying glasses and a laser pointer that he'd also sent away for.
Wherefore?
The events of this day were to greatly alter the lives of all who were there. Tommy would agree, despite all his gut told him, to leave the capsule in a steel locker across from the room they were gathered in. There was immediate recognition among the three scientists that the metal alloy they were inspecting was beyond unusual, like nothing they'd ever seen before. B___ quickly got a hold of the project's Geiger counter and they relaxed when it determined that the object's radioactivity level was no more excessive than a lot of natural formations in the area.
None of them were metallurgists and they all concurred that the only way to know more was to locate someone who could be trusted, for an analysis. They guessed it was a remnant from one of the secret programs around there and understood that if it was, the Government certainly hadn't made public its loss, not to the scientists working in the area nor to the local Forest Service. Around Alamogordo that wouldn't surprise anyone.
The geologists inspected the tiny pockmarks on the outside and agreed that none of them was capable of making any kind of interpretation of what looked like some kind of code. G___ mentioned a guy name J_____ over in the computer science department that they all knew. He'd been instrumental in getting them set up to access ARPANET, and, most importantly, was someone they thought could be trusted.
Then, while three of them sat there, G___ went back to his office and located a combination locker lock he'd gotten for a lapsed New Year's resolution, that was still in its paper bag. The capsule would be deposited and locked in the metal locker third down from the entrance to S22. Only they would know what was in it and the sequence for the lock.
The Disappearance
What happened in the ensuing 48 hours has never been revealed even though friendships and trust were tested to their ultimate limits. Their were accusations, police involvement and even more than one armed threat. All to no avail. What is known is that the locker was broken into by some one or entity and that the capsule vanished along with all traces. No photographs had been taken during the period, only drawings, notes and oral interviews. The matter was reported in the local press at the time but does not appear on line or in microfiche records.
This is as much as we at DymaxionWeb have been able to piece together from our own due diligence. We are well aware of the rumors that spread after the capsule's disappearance and cannot verify nor disprove any of the major hypotheses that have appeared in various Internet forums on the subject of various strange findings (and disappearances) in the surround desert and highlands that have been frequently reported upon.
Confidentiality Agreement
It is important for all readers to note that all of us who have handled the Eggn> manuscript are working under the terms of a publishing agreement that is protected by a confidentiality agreement made between the present holders of the text and its providers. We can make clear to our readers that we hold the sole rights to the publication of the materials we will publish under the title Eggn> and that we are further obliged to make no changes to the text as furnished to us by the holders.
We can affirm, however, that we have never seen the alleged capsule nor have any knowledge of its whereabouts (although we have been made quite convinced of its existence) and have played no role in the translation that has provided the text to be published under the title Eggn>. We are required by our agreements to not reveal publicly or privately any information that might lead to the identity or whereabouts of the text's owners.
Further there have been extreme measures taken to make opaque the manner in which all contacts and communications have been made between us and the holders.
We can reveal, however, that we have been told that the process of machine decipherment was extremely "tortuous" and are convinced that until recently it would have been impossible for most CPU arrays to have succeeded in the task. Further, we have been told that there has been no human intervention to change wording or phrasing resulting from the machine translation.
Publishing Schedule
We are planning to publish the full text in excerpts as they are made available to us over a relatively short period of time. The website set aside for the publication of Eggn> www.dymaxionweb.com/eggn. We are inviting readers to follow this link to the text. An Archive section will be provided that allows new visitors to read all excerpts in the chronological order in which they are published.
First excepts will be published on EggN from early February 2010 forward until completion. We look forward to your comments.
May 13, 2009
Rosetta Stone (RST) -- Not the Key
Washington, DC
Rosetta Stone has gone where few other companies dare these days, pulling off a successful IPO in a tough market. The company's proposition is that it is the undeniable leader in language teaching software, supporting a wide and ever expanding list of the world's languages. The company grossed nearly $210 million last year with a profit of near $14 M
Rosetta Stone has an interesting price structure with an entry level of $259 for Spanish Level 1, or a package price of $549 for the three supported levels that include Spanish 1,2 &3. Compared to the cost structure of a student seeking a private tutor or even enrolling in a class, the software price is highly competitive. Rosetta Stone's teaching method does not require translation so that an English (substitute this for any other language supported), say, can be sold to students from one end of the globe to the other. In an increasingly global world, Rosetta Stone is positioned to supply what must be an ever growing market. The company offers some 27 living languages as well as Latin, and supports in some cases various flavors like American and British English and Spanish and Latin American Spanish.
Rosetta Stone, it would seem, has done the hard work, developed a sound method that includes tools for learning to speak, read, write and pronounce with unlimited opportunities for practice. The emphasis is on what the company calls total immersion whereby students use pictures to absorb vocabulary without translation. Grammar and syntax, too, are only taught through this immersion method.
But what about the product? Having used the discs and having had some experience learning a few languages both on the spot and remotely, there's no disputing that Rosetta Stone is on the right track. They have a philosophy that contrasts them with traditional academic approaches that put an emphasis on grammar, syntax rules and vocabulary. A typical Rosetta Stone lesson --each Level includes 80 of these-- combines 40 brief, somewhat repetitive phrases or sentences, read by native speakers and accompanied by a photo or video. You learn gradually by combining building blocks. Users can test their comprehension skills by listening without the pictures, reading written phrases, seeing, repeating and digesting as long and as often as they need. There is an included microphone and headset so that users can test their pronunciation skills against the voice pattern of the instructors. There are other files meant "to go" for the car or portable player and for students who also wants to learn to write, there is a built in language-centric keyboard function that allows for typing and testing.
Nonetheless, there are a couple of problems with the method that make it less than optimum. Spoken language is most often a first person, interactive process, wherein comprehension must be matched with the ability to express needs, desires, orders and ideas, etc. on the spot. There is something oddly third person about the Rosetta Stone levels, lots of he, she's and they's and few I's and you's. Remember, this is a learning tool aimed at helping someone insert himself into the spoken language to a point where he or she can begin to cope and it's on this level that it should be judged the harshest.
Many students will also find the pace frustrating, the repetition seems to come at the cost of not introducing complete conjugations, useful tenses or the gamut and range of everyday things like all the possessive pronouns.
Rosetta Stone says it has done the IPO in order to develop a new series that will be web based. Perhaps the new approach will overcome what I would have to call a major gap in interactivity. The disc series also has an old fashioned feel to it in terms of using multimedia, the web developers may be well aware of this and more willing to take advantage of the tools available to them. Finally, there's a touch and feel of a foreign land that permeates a language. Because Rosetta Stone stretches across its range of languages, it has found economy in recycling it's images from language to language. This results in making the experience seem like learning in a laboratory rather than the street.
Rosetta Stone's IPO is based on the no doubt correct assumption that there is a vast and growing demand for foreign language speakers in business, military, tourism, academia and every day life. Rosetta Stone has a headstart and years of experience tucked under its belt. This could make investors comfortable with the IPO. After all, pricey software that can be sold in volume promises very high margins. And Rosetta Stone has also recognized that it can sell courses across the Internet on a subscription basis, which may well be it's future.
But there should be a large caveat for anybody considering going long on Rosetta Stone and it strikes at the method's heart. Rosetta Stone feels like 1990's technology not merely from a cosmetic perspective but from an almost dimensional sense. In the Iphone world, Rosetta Stone has a Windows 2000 feel.
Bottom line: Rosetta Stone may be lucky or smart and agile enough to own this niche for a long time but they are also a lot more vulnerable than may first meet the eye.
With it's rather steep --at least for the consumer market-- price structure, Rosetta Stone has to worry about pirate versions which is probably another reason why they are moving to the web and a subscription model. Many interested investors will be watching what they do as well as their numbers. There are no doubt ambitious competitors who've seen the IPO go out and may be getting ready to bring a newer look that counters the weaknesses.

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