Finally you groan. Fine, why? Tell me.
It's been eight or so hours. But the boy knows what you are asking. Someone smarter than us wrote it, he says. He is very smart. He knows how to survive out here.
It always knows what I need, you say. I don't understand.
Of course it knows. The writer knows everything.
But how?
The boy smiles but doesn't answer. You have the feeling he knows but won't tell you.
