My Dearest Friends,
Perhaps you have become aware of the little conflict heating up on the Korean peninsula. What is now being described as a local conflict is, in truth, the inevitable remainder of our wartime alliance with the Soviet Union. Korea was divided hastily and governed imperfectly; its northern half aligned with the Soviets, its southern with the US.
President Truman's doctrine has placed the United States squarely in the path of ideological expansion. We now find ourselves engaged in a dangerous contest of resolve, conducted at a distance and paid for by others. It was only a matter of time before the first move was made.
Some of you will have already been approached by representatives of Truman's administration. America, having once seen fit to set us aside, now seeks our assistance again.
We, who stand slightly beyond the ordinary definition of Man, the Discretus Spaiens, are remembered when convenient, and forgotten when not.
The Vigilante Retirement Act of 1946 remains in force. This is a clear message about our standing. Its passage made clear that the republic, weary of heroes and unsettled by memories of war, no longer wished to see masks, symbols, or extraordinary men operating beyond its direct supervision.
Even action taken quietly, under civilian names, would now provoke public outrage rather than gratitude. This is not conjecture; it has been stated plainly.
I do not recount these facts in bitterness. Nations, like men, act according to their fears and their appetites. Still, it must be acknowledged that the country we defended has, at least for the present, decided it has no further use for us, except in moments of emergency.
We are therefore asked a simple question: should we intercede?
Before answering, I believe it is necessary to ask what such an intervention would accomplish. The most cynical response, and therefore the first worth examining, is to ask what we might gain. The answer is little beyond the thanks of officials whose gratitude has already proven temporary.
Setting cynicism aside, we might ask whether our involvement could prevent future wars. Many of those who preceded us believed the Great War would be the last of its kind. Thirty years later, the world was again in flames. Five years after that, we contemplate open conflict with our former allies.
History offers no example of a war that ended war itself. To believe otherwise is not optimism, but wishful thinking.
I then considered the larger claim implicit in the Truman Doctrine: that victory in Korea might halt the spread of communism. I find this equally unlikely. Violence has never been an effective means of extinguishing an idea. Beliefs are not born from aggression, but from grievance. Communism, whatever its excesses, is an attempt, however flawed, to address the problem of inequality between classes.
Capitalism offers its own answer: that merit, innovation, and effort may dissolve rigid class boundaries. This is my story, and I have seen the fluidity of class rather than its fixed form in more traditional political systems. In practice, however, we have also found it necessary to temper the system with regulation, reform, and law. No system devised by Man is without defect.
So long as some believe communism offers relief from genuine injustice, it will persist. To kill its adherents is not to weaken the idea, but to strengthen it. The most effective way to discredit a false solution is to allow it to demonstrate its own shortcomings. Like a bad cold, it may be unpleasant, but it is ultimately self-limiting.
From this, I draw a reluctant but firm conclusion: intervention would not improve matters. It would not secure lasting peace, nor would it spare future generations from conflict. It would, however, demand a personal cost from us, one that history suggests will never be repaid.
I therefore decline the invitation to return to old battles.
Instead, I propose something altogether different.
If mankind is to advance, if it is to grow wiser rather than merely louder, it must eventually look beyond the narrow cycle of its own quarrels. Exploration is the better investment of our energies.
To that end, I have devoted the past several years to a private undertaking. I have constructed a vessel capable of leaving this world entirely. It is not a weapon. It is not a symbol. It is a means of travel. I call it 'The Second Star'.
I write now to ask whether you would join me and become the new Magellans.
This is not a call to arms, though danger cannot be ruled out. It is an invitation to discovery: to see what lies beyond the limits of our maps, our politics, and our old grievances. As a boy, like many of our generation, I was raised on the works of Jules Verne. The unknown stirred something in me then, and it has never entirely let me go.
Ask yourselves whether the life presently offered to you, quiet retirement, careful anonymity, and the patient fading of purpose, is truly enough. Ask whether you want more for yourselves, and for those who will come after us.
If your answer is yes, then I ask you to make your way to 887 Windsor Murphy's Town, New York State, on July 12th of this year. There, you will be shown things that will test your assumptions about what is possible.
I hope you will come. The universe is vast, and life is fleeting.
Truly yours,
Dr. Victor Charles Finn, The Mentalist