There are two surviving witnesses, seven omissions, and a procedure for reading their relation. These are the modest facts of the specimen. Its more impressive titles were added later by people who preferred a discovery to an instruction. A discovery belongs to a discoverer. An instruction can remain useful after its author is no longer available to explain it.
The archive's first mistake was to imagine that preservation required a perfect copy. Its second was to imagine that retaining every copy would remove the need for judgment. Between these mistakes lies the reader's work: identify what each witness can support, expose the changes that matter, and refuse to make an authority from an unexplained gap.
Seven carrier lines were placed at the beginning of these materials. Their wording was not chosen for elegance alone. They are ordinary enough to be passed over and exact enough to be compared. The instruments recovered elsewhere describe how to read them. Their row numbers are stable; their position on your screen is not part of the evidence.
You do not need to agree with these essays to use the instruments. A good method should survive disagreement with its author's philosophy. If the reconstruction works only for a sympathetic reader, something essential has been omitted. If it works for a reader who objects to every conclusion here, we may have preserved something more useful than agreement.
Return to the opening page when you have a reading to try. You will find neither a demand for belief nor a promise of reward. You will find the same material, arranged so that what you have learned can make a difference. The archive begins again at the point where its reader can no longer mistake a familiar surface for an exhausted one.