This book, if one can call it that, is not science fiction, or fantasy. It is, at its heart, the account, manifestly true, of a young man, and of his courage and generosity. His preternatural humanity. At this valedictory point in my life, I was not looking for a project, or time to occupy. I want neither fame nor financial gain, could have no use for either. As a result of this report, I expect nothing will change. Should I live to finish it, it will be published only abroad, where, however widely and sympathetically it is read, it will be as so much preaching to the choir. In my own country, America, it is likely it will not be read, and if read, not believed, and certain that a strenuous attempt will be made to discredit me, and that I will be punished if I am found. The most extraordinary measures have been taken to prevent a man like me from knowing what I know. Tyranny of the right, the left, it is all the same. It is because I survive, because I am the only one (of two) able to do it, that I write this. I am not a hero, and I am not afraid.