Someone's been delivering letters in San Francisco. Death notes. Each one promising the recipient's demise at a precise date and time, punishment for misdeeds only the creator knows. Signed simply: N.A. Over the last three years, sixteen letters have been delivered, sixteen bodies have been found. But when Rupert Groenveld, the recipient of the seventeenth letter, picked up the envelope from the ground at his front door, something absurd happened. A meditation on fate and humankind's desperate search for survival in a taunting universe.