Take it all, all of it!” Greg cried out. “These things here…I’ve been making them better, fixing them. It doesn’t matter…they don’t matter. I’ve been here before.” He paused to try to collect himself. “It’s my past, my present…these things–” He lifted a hand out to the objects around him. “These things are me.” Now whispering, “Can’t you see me?

Progress belongs to the Askers; the smarter the question, the lesser the guessing.