“Do you have any relatives, Mr. Remora?”
“It’s possible.”
“Wife or children?”
“They are not here with me.”
“Do you know the year we are in?”
“One year is just like the other so it does not matter.”
He sighed and continued, “Can you describe your place of birth?”
“I am sure it has changed by now.”
There was a brief pause before he continued, “What of your childhood? Did you spend your time in one of the sanctuary towns? Or were you one of the lucky ones who escaped to a bamboo hut or a stone cottage? There are still these heritage sites, you know. An igloo, perhaps?” The imp giggled at the word igloo but these were questions I had asked myself and for which I had no answers. I still held the hope that some slight clue from that period might spring other answers.
“During a previous
