Eleventeen quadraseasons ago a gathering of squid resulted in a chance correspondence from a distant sound scape specialist, The Ernnesto Diaz-Infante. The squid responded to this encountrer by fluttering its ragged tentacle five times, a signal of affirmation, as well as a coded warning. Teams of esteemed field inspectors shed leather filings and recorded on tablets the flaking, shimmering pile. The tablets were shredded and transported across The Great Dark Sea into the Nation of Squid, where the dust was rubbed onto magnetic strips of plastic. And eon and one half did pass until the reassembly was finalized, and the result is here for the world to embrace?