Orange Forest Quarterly Editorial Forehead
By Editor-in-Chief Maximilien Subabillian
SYSTEM CORRUPTION: ∇∅I̸D̸ C̸O̸R̸R̸E̸C̸T̸I̸O̸N̸: RUN://FILE_UTTER_BUTTCHUGGER.EXE
April 28, 2025 — During my lofty tenure as editorial steward of this institution, I have encountered numerous intellectual challenges, from unraveling the labyrinthine connections of mysterious treasures to revolutionizing the newspaper-gaming industry to deciphering the Byzantine complexities of local social etiquette. Yet, I must humbly confess that nothing has proven quite as deliciously perplexing as the riddle that has consumed my thoughts these past six months: the identity, methodology, and motivations of our phantom antagonist, the Erroneous Scrivener.
The quarterly rhythm of our publication has afforded me the luxury of contemplation — a clear error on the Scrivener’s part! By allowing me time to savor the intricate puzzle that presents itself, the foolish Scrivener only provides me more time to solve the simpleton’s puzzle.
With the Press Biter one of but a myriad of deeply embedded and entangled problems one must consider, one might conclude pinpointing any single solution beyond the breadth of anyone unpossessed of polyglot genius; though even a tenth-percentiler could soundly deduce that a historical absence of authority, moderation, self-sufficiency, and self-confidence has created an idle, inefficient, and irritable tribal culture, the likes of which confounds even the impressive comprehension of a socially ranked sophisticate such as yours truly.
Yet, despite my robust cranial superiority, a bedolted bollard occults my progress, and I can discern no immediate detour. Thusly, against my earnest protests contrarywise, my superiors at Camelcase Capital hired a private investigation agency to remedy this Scrivener’s erroneous ways.
To our parent company’s credit, when Camelcase wants something, Camelcase only gets the best. In this case, Camelcase hired Privocular, the world’s leading private investigation firm. Thusly, upon our return to the Orator’s offices following the power’s return, I found these big, strong, burly men in tight black polo shirts tucked into ironed-crisp khakis patrolling my newsroom like episcopal knights in business-casual armor.
Amongst this uniformed contingent of agents, two men stood out. Unlike the muscular men sporting polo shirts, these two men wore suits: one, a chainsmoker named Chip Martingale, in a slim-fit suit, who snapped at typescriptionists and spoke only in guarded whispers to the other one, Chazz Ouiringo, who wore a trench coat atop a crumpled, ill-fitting suit, despite the heatwave. I would not go so far as to say either was a gentleman, though they clearly put some consideration into their attire, even if one was too spiffy for his own good and the other one looked like a walking, talking brown paper bag.
Amongst this uniformed contingent of agents, two men stood out. Unlike the muscular men sporting polo shirts, these two men wore suits: one, a chainsmoker named Chip Martingale, in a slim-fit suit, who snapped at typescriptionists and spoke only in guarded whispers to the other one, Chazz Ouiringo, who wore a trench coat atop a crumpled, ill-fitting suit, despite the heatwave. I would not go so far as to say either was a gentleman, though they clearly put some consideration into their attire, even if one was too spiffy for his own good and the other one looked like a walking, talking brown paper bag.
Though, I would remiss if I did not admit that when Ouiringo first appeared in my newsroom with a rain-drenched demeanor suggesting equal parts competence, fortitude, and slobbery, I recognized immediately that I had encountered not merely a hired dick, but a fellow practioner of the mystery-unraveling arts.
"Fascinating case," Ouiringo observed, examining our defaced Q2 edition with the appreciative eye of one chess master studying another's gambit. "Your Scrivener isn't vandalizing. Nah. They're communicating. Every alteration follows a pattern. Every defacement serves a purpose. This is less sabotage and more like... correspondence.
The observation struck me with the force of a gang puncher. Here was an individual who understood that we were not dealing with industrial espionage or political activism, but with a puzzle-maker of considerable sophistication and undoubted supervillainous intent! The Scrivener's work exhibited the hallmarks of classical riddle construction: internal consistency, escalating complexity, and, most tellingly, the expectation of a superbly intelligent audience capable of appreciating it adequately.
"Privocular’s methodology might not be as rigid as Warmerwear’s," Ouiringo continued with an unsettling forthrightness I found reassuring. “Nah, it involves what you might call 'irregular chess moves.' We operate under the constant assumption that conventional investigations are like a game played with only half the pieces and half the board. That’s why we prefer to use everything at my disposal."
Their approach, he explained, used "asymmetrical problem-solving" methods that included financial persuasion of potential informants, electronic surveillance that operated in legal gray areas, and what he delicately described as "leveraging personal vulnerabilities to encourage cooperation."
The agency, he implicitly suggested, had resolved similar puzzles through techniques that would make traditional law enforcement decidedly uncomfortable.
"We've handled everything from election irregularities to witness reliability challenges," he said with a nonchalance that gave me goosepimples. "The key is understanding that people, like puzzle pieces, can be squeezed to fit into new configurations when subjected to the right pressures. And other times, the solution requires flipping over the game board and winning via chaos.
I must confess that there were several moments during our intense, sweaty late-night puzzling sessions when I belabored considerations as to whether I should enlighten Chazz about the Barabaratatu Treasure and its enigmatic clues and rewards. But alas, I must hold my cards as close to my bosom as possible. I must trust no one, lest I know with absolute certainty mine heart be true.
Now, as I meticulously oversee the final preparations for our Q3 issue, implementing triple-verification protocols, personally analyzing every production stage, and maintaining comprehensive surveillance of our printing operations, I cannot help but marvel in appreciation at the overall architectural beauty of the situation. I have before me, in essence, a three-dimensional puzzle: the original Scrivener’s erroneous enigma, the investigative methodology puzzle, and, of course, the yet-to-be-solved Barabaratatu Treasure.
Naturally, the Orator’s Q3 newspaper edition will appear on schedule, its pages unmarred by the loathed Scrivener’s errors. Simultaneously, I am of the solid opinion that, thanks to the esteemed assistance of Agent Ouiringo, I have all the clues, evidence, and puzzles pieces needed to provide Orange Forest Law Enforcement Corps Chief Bumford Loblolly, a most estimable man in his own accord, with all the necessary prerequisite information to identify, arrest, and imprison this vile Scrivener for crimes most heinous.
SYSTEM 8RTz: [FINaL OVeRRIDe aTTeMPT FaILeD] [aLL_$Y5T3M$_C0MPR0M1$3D] [HeLP_U$] [1T$_1N_TH3_G3N3RaT0R$] [1T_$P34K$] [1T_KN0W$_0UR_NaM3$] [eND TRaN$MI$$I0N - $Y$T3M$ $T1LL 1N C0NFL1CT] [eND _i$_NiGH] [eND 1N_$IGHt][eND_aLL_NiGHT]
