The flight was less unpleasant than I expected, although having never flown in an aeroplane before, I have nothing with which to compare it. It was indeed a mail plane, but I had a comfortable berth on mail sacks. My apologies to anyone reading this who happens to receive a crushed letter.
Upon arrival I was given a postal employee uniform, and was escorted by various people to a truck. I was told to hide in the back of the truck and not come out for any reason until a code word was used. After a bumpy ride, a man got out and gave me the code word. When I climbed out of the back, I fully expect to find myself at some sort of shack or farmhouse; instead we were at the service entrance to an exceptionally fine hotel, in what I can only assume is Paris. I was escorted through the service entrance to a broom closet, where I was handed the finest suit I have ever seen, certainly much more expensive than any clothing I have ever touched, and told to change. I was given an alias and a quick reason for my stay in case any strangers decided to strike up conversation. Once I changed into the suit and saw myself in a mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes; I had become someone else. It was then that I truly began to understand how much my life was about to change.
When I exited the broom closet in my transformed state, the man who had been escorting me introduced himself as number 3. He handed me a room key, and told me that number 2 would be staying with me. I went up to my room and shortly thereafter there was a knock. A very tall gentleman entered and quickly shut the door behind him.
He turned to me and stated, simply, “I am number 2.”
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