Pine Ridge Reservation, South Dakota, 1960

I'm 35 years old and sweltering. It's summer in South Dakota. The sun hangs in the sky like a man in the gallows. I stand on the deck of an aircraft carrier that has manifested in a lonely ravine. A major greets me. "Director Moffat sent you?" she asks. "Yes." I offer my hand. "Linguistics and Deniable Comms."…