“How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. I mean, I just got here, and pretty soon I’m going to be gone? Just like that?”

“Yep, just like that.”

“It doesn’t seem fair. I have as much a right to be here as anyone else. I mean, there’s barely enough time to flesh me out in any sort of detail.” He brushed a piece of lint off of his shirt. “Jeez, it’s almost half-way through, and all they know is I’m a guy in a shirt.”

“Yeah, I know, but there’s only so much he can do. It’s up to them to save us, now.”

“That’s crap, and you know it. He could save us if he wanted to.”

“Yes, he could, but he won’t. That’s not the point.” She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

“Well, what is the point?”

“Community. Creativity. Imagination. Sure, he could write everything himself, and we’d be fine. But there wouldn’t be any sociology. There wouldn’t be any interaction.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure someone will save us.”

“There’s not much time left.”

“I know. But I’ve got a feeling.”