He was disappointed to note that it was printed, not handwritten; some 
kind of official correspondence, and not, unfortunately, a note from Fiona. 
When he began to read it, he understood that it wasn't even official. It wasn't 
even from a human. It was a notification sent back to him automatically by a 
piece of machinery he had set into motion two years ago. The central message 
was wreathed in pages of technical gibberish, maps, graphs, and diagrams. The 
message was: