There is nothing left for it now. Zetaville is dying and I need to talk to you about it. You may not appreciate this letter I send you in your condition but that is no excuse, I need to put down here what is on my mind. When you see this jail you are now sitting in, when you see the generous school of architecture that you have left behind, the parallels are uncanny. There is only one difference really. The inmates are the professors and it is you, the Dean, who sits behind smoked glass in front of a bank of surveillance cameras. It was you for a while who appeared to run the whole show.