Dear recipient:
To the person who’s reading this, whoever you are, I need you’re help. You may not want to believe the contents of this letter, but you have to, for the well being of this place you call home. All of this is true. Here my story begins:

My name is Shane Steadman. I’m seventeen years old. I’m from the year 2987. I’ve sent you this much from the Time Mail, time travel mail. I hope that this message will reach the right person.

I’m from earth, the same earth you live on. It’s much different than your civilization was. Much different and much worse.

There’s this disease, known as just the Disease. It infects a person when they have contact with another person that has the Disease. It slowly eats away your insides, while your skin turns a bright orange. You have only a year to live after contracting it.

We got the Disease when a group of Martians from a whole different planet, located in an entirely different solar system millions of light years away, invaded our planet. They injected the Disease in to one person, and that started a chain reaction. Soon the whole world was infected.


I’ve been the only one left for a while now. And let me tell you, that hasn’t been easy. All I’ve had for comfort have been the animals, who are immune to the Disease. Dead bodies line the streets, the smell of rotting flesh fills the air. I don’t think I can stand it any longer.

But soon the animals will be the only one’s left, because I’ve had the Disease for quite some time now. I’m going to die.

But I don’t have to die, not if you’re willing to help. I’ve been doing experiments and I think I’ve found the cure. I would take it myself, but my sickness is too far along, it can be of no help to me. I’ve enclosed the recipe for the cure. Get this cure to who ever you need to get it to, make sure this cure lives on for the next thousand years. The fate of the world is in your hands.

Yours truly,
Shane Steadman