23Another hour in the cage had passed. He manually noted it in a file because he was unable to keep track in any other manner yet. He fought not to let it stress him that his timekeeping ability was not working.
He sat on the edge of the cot he’d woken up on, feet together, breathing slowly. His body was relaxed but alert—an optimal setting according to his processor.
Though on some level he felt like he was wasting time, on another he felt like he was waiting for something.
Yes. He was waiting. That was exactly what he was doing.
But for what, a small part of him asked?
He did not yet know the answer.
He wanted to scratch his head and fought the urge. It was not a necessary movement, so it could only be a waste of energy to make it. He needed to stay relaxed—to stay still while he w
