I am delighted---and enormously grateful---that you have responded to my call for help! The terrible stress that I have gone through since I lost my coin has made me physically ill, and now that Achilles and the Tortoise are lost in the help manual, I am at my wits' end. But I'm getting ahead of myself here, so let me back up and explain what I'm talking about.
You may know who I am if you've read Douglas Hofstadter's book Goedel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. If not, never mind; suffice it to say that acquiring priceless objects of all kinds is a hobby of mine. This hobby has given me a great deal of pleasure over the years, but there was one occasion not long ago when it caused me great anguish. A mysterious man showed up at my house and told me that he had heard of my priceless Iroquois Hickory Tree Four-Poster bed and wanted to buy it. ``I am willing to pay a good fortune for that bed,'' he said. ``Name your price and I'll pay it.'' Naturally, I refused. The man then pulled out a box containing a strange-looking coin and said, ``I will give you this coin in return for the bed.'' Again, I was going to refuse, but for some reason found myself unable to. It was as if I were under some kind of spell. The man gave me the coin and then, to my horror, proceeded to cart off my priceless bed right under my very nose, while I stood there powerless to prevent him. Not until the man had driven out of sight was I able to move normally again.
You can imagine my distress at this incident. I was a basket case for weeks. What finally lifted me out of my depression was the discovery that the coin was in fact the infamous ``I Haven't Tolerance For Prices'' coin, which can be exchanged for any priceless object, even against the owner's will. When I learned this, I was overjoyed, and thought at first that I had actually benefited enormously from the transaction with the stranger. I soon found, however, that the matter was not quite so simple. It turns out that as soon as you put a price on an object, no matter how high, the coin becomes powerless to purchase it, since the object is no longer priceless. There have been many times when I have found something that I wanted to purchase with the coin, only to find that the object actually had a price tag on it. Nevertheless, I have high hopes that I will be able to use it some day, and thus I have been guarding it very carefully.
Then, last week, disaster struck. My good friends Achilles and the Tortoise were over at my place watching a movie on my Subjunc-TV, a remarkable device that lets you tune in and watch alternative realities (as you may know if you've read Hofstadter's dialogue ``Contrafactus''). At the same time, I was also recording my favorite show, ``Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,'' on my Subjunc-VCR. There was a thunderstorm outside, and suddenly a flash of lightning struck the antenna of my Subjunc-TV. There was a loud bang and the screen went blank. We rushed over to the Subjunc-TV to see what had happened. Nothing seemed to be working, and worst of all, the box containing my IHTFP coin had been sitting near the power cord, and when we opened the box, we found that the coin had vanished!
Telling this story and reliving the shock of the moment when I discovered my loss still disturbs me so much that I can hardly continue, but I must finish. A thorough search of the box revealed a help manual promisingly entitled
mAnuaL subjUnc-TV
RepaIr
but unfortunately, when we opened the manual, we found that its contents had
also been distorted by the accident. We puzzled over the manual for hours, but
couldn't make head or tail of it. Finally, Achilles and the Tortoise decided
that they would actually go into the help manual to get a closer look. I
thought this was a dangerous idea, but before I could stop them, they drank
some pushing-potion and disappeared into the manual. When they didn't come
back, I decided that it was time to call for help, so I asked some friends of
mine at MIT to place an ad in the IAP guide--- written in a way such that
casual readers might not be able to distinguish it from an ordinary MIT
activity, but such that any true puzzle-sleuth would instantly recognize its
true meaning.
And now, dear mystery-hunter, I must thank you again for responding to my ad and coming to my aid. You will have my everlasting gratitude if you can recover the IHTFP coin for me. I have enclosed a copy of the help manual (if you glance inside you will see snatches of conversation between Achilles and the Tortoise as they were wandering through its pages) and a copy of the Subjunc-VCR tape, in case that helps. Unfortunately, my Subjunc-VCR no longer works, and I have been unable to locate an acceptable replacement in any of the stores around here. However, you may notice that the VCR tape is backwards-compatible with audio cassette players, so that you can listen to the audio portion at least. One other thing---while we were studying the help manual, Achilles and the Tortoise mentioned that they thought that a copy of Hofstadter's Goedel, Escher, Bach would be an invaluable tool; I do not understand exactly how that could be, but you may wish to obtain a copy of the book in any case. (My friends should be able to help you locate a copy if you have trouble finding one.) I also encourage you to use any other resources you have at your disposal---the MIT libraries, the World-Wide Web, your friends and family---to help you find the coin. And remember that the coin is everything! The help manual is only a means towards an end; you don't necessarily have to follow all the instructions in the help manual to the letter if you can figure out a clever way to bypass them and still find the coin.
I wish I could be there to help you in person, but I am still recovering from my illness and cannot leave my bed. However, my friends ... will be available (except between midnight and 9 a.m.) to help you in any way they can. You can reach them by email at puzzle@mit.edu ... (Some contact information has been omitted here, since it is already out of date, or no doubt will be before long)
Good luck! I hope to hear news of your success soon.
Yours truly,
The Crab.