Moscow 2042 [antikvár]

INTRODUCTION Unfortunately, I don't have access to my notes. All my notebooks, pads, journals, and all the odd scraps of paper were left behind. There was only one slip of paper, crumpled, wom, and ragged along the edges, which had worked its way into the lining of my jacket and was remmed to me by Frau Grunberg, the proprietor of our dry cleaner in Stockdorf. I could make out the following on one side of die slip: "4 sm. U nag. T.t.L.O.L." On the other: "Tomorrow or never !!!" The meaning of the tomorrow business is perfectly clear to me, and I will explain it in due course. But what does the writing on the first side mean? I can't remember for the life of me what the four "sm." could be or what the other letters could possibly signify. For some reason, what intrigues me most is the second letter "L." Does it designate a thing, a person, an animal? It doesn't rouse the slightest association in me. And it wasn't that long ago that my memory was perfectiy excellent. Especially for figures. I always knew the number on my passport, work card, discharge papers, and my Writers' Union card. Believe it or not, I never make a note of people's phone numbers, I know them by heart as soon as I hear them. But now? . . . Now, sometimes it even takes a congramlatory telegram to remind me it's my birthday.