All correspondences are forged by the Treat Typists Guild, Local 202, in the typewriter sweatshop hidden in the Semi-Auntomous Exclave of Belugastan.
Forgeries are then delivered to unsuspecting rival nation-states in the nearby Metropolis.
All documents are forged on the first take, typos included.
Intriguing. Fiction? Truth? Somewhere in between? I like the idea of an epistolary novel written entirely with a typewriter.
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