‘Perhaps you’d like to join me
in the pursuit of writing,’ Teague says. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a most
noble pursuit.’
‘Do you have to talk like that?’
‘Like what?’ he replies.
‘Like you’re a missionary or
something.’
‘But aren’t we all missionaries
in our own small way. We were missionaries of science back on earth.’
‘If you want to look at it that
way.’ I pause. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t push for the teaching of science here.’
His face goes darker. ‘Science
led me down paths I don’t wish to revisit.’
‘Whatever you say, Roger.’ The
name sounds strange in my mouth when I’m addressing him. ‘Do you have any idea
where Yates might be?’
‘He could be anywhere,’ Teague
replies. ‘Out in the vast desert of the mind.’
‘So it is our mind then?’ I ask.
‘We can’t say for certain,’ he
replies. ‘We often speak about it at congregation.’
‘Congregation?’
‘Oh we collect after the work
day to share tales, laughs, conversation. In the absence of dinner it’s all we
can do, and better in a lot of ways.’
‘So our necessity to stay here
must be due to mental blocks,’ I explore. ‘Portions of our mind that can be
overcome if we really want to. Like how the body won’t willingly hurt itself
without a significant amount of force or persuasion?’
‘Such a brilliant mind,’ he
says. ‘We could have accomplished wonders together.’
I look at him. An ounce of the
old Teague shining through and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing. He
quickly recovers. ‘It would do best to ignore such urges to find out why we’re
here.’
I hold up my hands. ‘All I want to
do is find Yates. You can hold hands and sing camp songs all you want here.’
I instantly regret my rudeness.
This place just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I can’t ever imagine just
being. Not searching for the whys and the hows and the should we? And a big
part of me doesn’t think Teague would ever stop either.
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