Part VII: Information Underload
‘How long have you been with them?’
‘Ever since they found me in the plains. I was four or five, they think.’
‘Yeah, but how many years?’
‘Dunno. Nine, I think.’
The hermit processes the information for a moment.
‘It’s been that long, eh.’
He pauses. He attempts to stroke his beard, then puts the hand back down when he remembers the beard’s gone.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Can’t blame you. Barely understand it myself.’
The question in my head is growing stronger, threatening to drive me crazy. Why doesn’t he tell me?
‘Why do we look the same?’