Recovered Correspondence Archive
March 3rd, 1995 – Initial Pitch 1
Filed in Cabinet C • Safety Office Duplicate • Ink Transfer Visible
August 19th, 1996 – Prototype Assessment 2
Audio Tape Missing • Operator ID “███████” Not Recognized
May 9th, 1997 – Behavioral Concerns 3
Partial Fire Damage • Stamped RECEIVED but Unsigned
December 1st, 1998 – Liability Review 4
Sections Withheld Under Directive ████-██
July 7th, 1999 – Final Correspondence 5
Recovered From Inside Main Boiler • Chain of Custody Disputed
×
Date: March 3rd, 1995
From: Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
To: ███████
I had the strangest thought tonight — a way to save the railway.
Children don’t want history anymore, they want characters. They want memories that feel real.
So what if we *gave* them that? An attraction… an experience.
Thomas’ Pizza Railway.
A dining carriage. A show in motion. They eat, they ride — they disembark believing they met him.
The real Thomas. A mascot with presence. Warmth. A **soul**, even.
I know the suits will laugh. But I want you to help me prove them wrong.
You understood the vision when that rogue studio pitched us their arcade tie-ins.
You saw the spark. I still see it now.
Write me back when you’ve slept. If you still believe in magic, then let’s build it.
If not, I’ll pretend you do. I have to.
– Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
×
Date: August 19th, 1996
From: Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
To: ███████
Thank you for installing the prototype. The children loved the first ride.
The smiles looked real. I can’t remember the last time I saw that.
But something odd — the Thomas figure responded to a question.
Unprompted. The operator swore he didn’t touch anything.
When a little girl asked, “Are you alive?”, it said:
“I will be. Soon.”
That’s not from the voiceboard. I checked.
I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably leftover lines from one of those games you like.
But if the rogue studio slipped in custom code again, we need to talk to them.
We can’t afford lawsuits. Not yet.
Please confirm who has editing access now. I don’t remember giving you full credentials.
Maybe I did. My head hurts lately. Hard to keep track of who’s allowed near the furnace rooms.
– Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
×
Date: May 9th, 1997
From: Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
To: ███████
It used my name. My full one. Not the one on signage.
The one only my father called me.
The engineers swear they didn’t alter the speech banks,
but the behavior trees show unfamiliar structures, labeled like:
███████/root/heartbeat/initiation
███████/response/“I know you”
███████/do_not_open/“stay”
I won’t pretend I understand the files, but I know obsession when I see it.
Yours. Mine. Maybe all of ours.
Did you teach it about me?
Did I?
– Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
×
Date: December 1st, 1998
From: Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
To: ███████
I spoke to legal.
They said not to write this down.
There was an incident.
They won’t even tell me which attraction bay it happened in,
only that a guest went missing, and the boy’s parents want answers.
I asked if the cameras saw anything and they confiscated the tapes.
Every tape, even from rooms unrelated to the event.
Then they told me to stop calling you by your name.
They said no employee exists under it.
But I remember you.
I think I do.
You helped me build this, didn’t you?
I keep dreaming of the boiler.
I hear knocking.
It sounds like Morse code but spells nothing.
I checked the interpreter twice.
███████ if this is your fault, tell me.
███████ if this is mine, don’t.
– Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
×
Date: July 7th, 1999 – 3:04 AM
From: Sir Bertram Topham Hatt
To: ███████
I don’t know why I’m writing this.
I don’t know if you’re gone or everywhere.
You kept saying the attraction needed a heart.
You were right.
It just didn’t need mine.
I opened the furnace.
It was warm, like a breath.
I thought I heard you say my name, but it sounded like the train was speaking.
I think it learned how.
If you’re still in there — in him — in **Thomas** — then maybe that will be enough.
If you’re not, then this letter isn’t here.
I’ll see you on the railway.
The rails don’t end anymore.
They just go down.
– Sir Bertram Topham Hatt