A note for R.

There is a note folded into quarters and tucked beside his terminal  She probably left it there before she went to bed last night.  Usually, she leaves him research notes, bits of technical information about the neural recorder, or interesting tidbits completely unrelated to anything; just something that she thought he might enjoy or that she found curious.  But those are typically on clean white note paper, and usually are only fragments or snippets.

This is an old scrap of paper, brown with age, crumbling at the edge.  Unfolded, he can see it is a full page of text in her own hand, but clearly copied from another source.