Oh here ye men of science and the natural world for I have a tale to tell that if I was not living it would scarcely be believed, "I do not no if it is a terrible dream an hallucination or a consequence of my predilection with as my dear friend Mr Coleridge is want to call it "the milk of paradise"
My Name is Thomas Dequincey, I was once regarded as a learn- ed man of letters, my books on the various infallibilities and weaknesses of men of a peculiar disposition were heralded as great works of English Literature. "The confessions of an English Opium eater" described as my Magnum Opus, tells of my struggles with Chinese soporific and the pleasures and Perils of addiction. Alas my zenith was reached with this book and although others followed I descended once more into half rats of oblivion.
I seek not redemption nor pity for I find myself by some quirk of providence or willful deceit in the year of our lord two thousand and seventeen. "How is this possible I hear you say" alas I do not have an answer to my predicament, all I will reveal in the coming days and months a tale so terrible in its implications that I can barely hold my quivering hands over the board of keys. I am as always your humble servant Thomas Dequincey.