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She didn't go to the police and soon she stopped thinking about the episode with the cab driver. When she returned home she found an open letter on the table. It was addressed to her. Her mother had probably opened it. She took the letter from the table, and removed it from the bright green envelope which she put back on the table. The envelope was torn; her mother had evidently opened it in a hurry. She unfolded the letter. There was just one short sentence on purple paper:
She picked up the envelope and scrutinised it. On the back she found the stamp of the Political Party of Mirin Flirkal. She sat down at the table. It was clear to her that her mother had torn open the envelope because she had read the name of the sender. This meant that she knew him and appeared to be in contact with him, since otherwise she would never have opened a letter not addressed to herself. She is a frequent and enthusiastic shopper and reads all the advertising leaflets, and so perhaps she too has found a paper ball in a shoe. But her mother doesn't have any new shoes! But then, who knows how extensive an advertising campaign Mirin Flirkal has unleashed, and where else he has stuck his witty leaflets? Rosie frowned. It's awful how her mother believes in any kind of publicity trick, and the vile intrusive techniques political parties are using these days to make themselves visible are even worse. Her mother has almost certainly gone to the party headquarters for shoes or some other stupid thing they've used as bait. The phone rang. Rosie picked up the receiver. She heard Masl's voice as if from a great distance. "Speak up, I can't hear you." she said. "God exists," singsongs Mashl across the wires. "They've just announced it on TV. He was discovered by an international scientific team who have immediately been nominated for the Noble prize. The whole world is going to change now, and you should take my advice and adapt as fast as you can." "Fine. I'll listen to the evening news, but just now I've got to run..." "I don't care how you use this information, that's your affair. I just wanted to warn you. In the meantime, take care. And you can call me tonight if you want." "I'll call, Mashl, Thanks for the tip." Warn? Against what? It's too late to do anything now, Rosie smiles. Anyway, who knows if it's true? Mashl has never been a very trustworthy channel of information. She put the letter on the table by the telephone. She put on her coat and shoes and took the key from the table. The door swung shut behind her.
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