liam hennessy

My apologies, sir. It’s a rogue operation. I’ve been scattering your books on my own, with no authorization from above–they wanted me to use conventional weapons. But I was the man at the Inner Station, and I knew what needed to be done, whatever my superiors thought. The world needed to know about Snarking Out, the dangers of Kevin Shapiro, the Aufklarung of the Last Guru, and ten thousand other things revealed in your works. One fat man had found the truth, and I was spreading his word–whether he, the agency, or the world wanted it or not. I’m not alone in this; there are others out there planting copies of “Fat Men From Space” and “The Hoboken Chicken Emergency” in seedy hotels of southeast Asia and arms bazaars in Sudan. It’s dirty work, but necessary. Hiroo Onoda understood. I suppose now they’ll send someone upriver to terminate my command. Oh well.