The "author" tells the following story of receiving the manuscripts.
I had finished seeing my morning patients and had prepared a pizza wrap (mozzarella cheese sticks and pepperoni in a wrap covered with marinara sauce) for my lunch and sat down at my desk to enjoy my break, when the receptionist knocked on the open door. She stuck her head in and said, "There's someone in the waiting room who insists on seeing you."
She then entered the room entirely.
"I think there are some open appointments for the afternoon," I said, less than enthusiastically, because this was a Tuesday, and I try to keep Tuesday afternoons light so I can get back to the woods early. "Is he a current patient? We aren't taking new patients, you know."
"He's not a patient," answered the receptionist. "He says it's a private matter."
"Is he trying to sell something? Did he not see the no-soliciting sign?"
"He saw it because I pointed to it and he read it. He just repeated that he needs to see you."
I sighed in resignation. "Okay, can you bring him back here to the office? I'll see him in here."
In less than a minute she returned with a young man who looked too young to be a patient, even if we were taking new patients, though maybe he was eighteen. I motioned him to one of the two guest seats in the office and he sat down. I did not open with the typical "How can I help you," because in honesty, I was more interested in eating my lunch than in helping him. I simply nodded my head slightly, indicating he could start saying what he wanted to say.
"Doctor Garrett," he said, "it sure is a nice sunny day isn't it?"
I did not see what the weather had to do with his inconveniencing me, so I told him the truth. "Is it? I came in to work in the dark and haven't had time to go outside yet." I did not add that I might have time to do that if he were not taking up my lunch time. A brief furrow appeared between his eye brows at my response. He continued.
"You would probably like to know why I wanted to see you."
This seemed to me to be an obvious truth, so I did not answer him with words. I just gave a slight shrug of my shoulders with a slight opening of my hands to indicate that he should continue. He gave me another furrowing of his brow, but he did continue.
"I should have introduced myself," he said after a pause. "I am called Michael Farmer."
This seemed strange to me. First there was the "I am called," rather than the more common "my name is," or simply "I'm." And then there was the way he said Michael with an aspiration of the "ch" and with three syllables rather than just two. I didn't say anything, so he continued.
"Doctor Garrett, I want to make you an offer."
Ah, here it comes, I thought, he is trying to sell something.
"Someone who met you some years ago told me you were interested in publishing a book someday. Have you done that yet?"
I had no recollection of telling anyone about writing a book, but it was something I had thought to do someday, maybe once I retired. I probably had mentioned it to someone, sometime. I felt it would be okay to answer him.
"No, not yet, maybe someday."
"It gladdens me to hear this, Dr. Garrett. Here is my offer: I am willing to give you a completed manuscript today if you will publish it. You can publish it under your own name."
I expected him to say more, but this young man before me, who is call Michael Farmer, seemed to be finished.
"Okay, well first, Michael, I'm not a publishing company, but I think you know that. Wouldn't it be better if you had it published yourself under your own name? Just because I've thought in the past that I might want to write a book some day, doesn't mean I want to steal one from someone else."
"You would not be stealing that which is given, Dr. Garrett. And I, or the author, does not want to have it published under his name because we need to remain hidden. It would be possible to set up a false identity, but this takes time, and we do not wish to accept the delay this would engender. It might also prove to be insufficient protection. I, we, are aware that exchanges typically imply a benefit to both parties. The benefit to us will be that the book is published quickly and not tied to us. The benefit to you will be that you can keep any royalties, if there be any.
"Okay," I said when he was finished. I then thought some and repeated myself, "Okay. This is rather bizarre. I guess the part about remaining hidden is concerning."
"We must remain hidden for reasons which I believe will be obvious if you read the book. If the book can be traced back to us, we would be in danger. I feel confident that it will not be a danger for you, however. My request is that you accept the manuscript today. I have it on a computer memory stick. Read the book. If you feel for any reason you can not be the author before the world and do not want to publish it, I ask that you destroy the manuscript and let me know of your decision by emailing an address I shall give you. You will have no other way to contact us, and once you use that email once, it will be deleted. I will only check it occasionally, and always from a different public place, which I will leave immediately. Will you at least consider being the author for us?"
We sat and looked at each other for several minutes. Michael did not appear at all uncomfortable with our mutual scrutiny and silence. I found myself trusting this young man. I felt no guile in him. The only thing I had to do to get him out of my office was to accept the memory stick from him. The only thing I had to do for my own conscience was to read the book and decide what I would or would not do. A free book.
"Okay, Michael. I'll take the book. I can't promise I'll finish the book, but I'll start it, and I'll let you know my decision. Is that good enough for you?"
"This was our hope," he said as he stood up and reached into his pants pocket. He removed a memory stick and a piece of paper with an email address. He handed them both to me.
"Thank you, Dr. Garrett. Thank you for your willingness to consider this."
And that was it. He walked out of my office, and I haven't seen him since. I obviously published the book. The second manuscript simply arrived in the mail. It could have been emailed to me, but he never asked for my email address. Then recently I received a typed letter with a very brief notice that I would soon be receiving a third manuscript.
I recently gifted a copy of the first book to a local library. When they saw my name as the author they asked if I would be willing to give a talk on how to write a novel. I declined for the obvious reason that I have yet to write one.