1.
"How long would you estimate that you've been on Layer 30, Mr. Perris?"
The Surveyor scanned over Perris' reference sheets, adjusting the dial on his goggle-like glasses for a closer look. The lens extended, almost touching the page.
Perris stared down at the Gangly half-a-man, wondering for the hundredth time if Surveyors even had lower halves under all that dirt. He'd certainly never seen evidence of a lower half; his Auramancy didn't show a lower half. The only real way to know would be to grab him by the arms and pluck him from the ground like a ripe carrot.
But Perris would never do something like that, no matter how extraordinarily tempting it was, especially in the face of what he knew was fast becoming a scolding.
"I suppose I've been here as long as I can remember," Perris answered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Not that I've been keeping track of the months."
"Well, the Ministry of The Thread has been keeping track, Perris the Auran, and it's a little past measuring in months. Would you care to know exactly how long you've resided on Layer 30, Mr. Perris?"
Perris shrugged, "I wouldn't exactly care to know, but I guess it would be alright if-"
"58 years, 47 days. You have been residing on Layer 30 – the highest layer of The Thread, might I remind you – for 58 years and 47 days. Does that surprise you, Mr. Perris?"
Perris thought for a moment – really took the time to metaphorically scratch his head and think. The time's really flown by, he thought. That can't be good. By the time he stopped thinking, he decided not to answer at all. Instead, he just shrugged and said, "And I still don't look a day over twenty-something, eh?"
The Surveyor sighed. He wasn't a joking kind of man.
"Yes, well, the privilege of eternal youth we've so generously given you aside, I'm sorry to inform you Mr. Perris, but it's time that you move on to the next Layer. Frankly, I'm not sure how an oversight like this has gone on for so long. I've never even heard of an Adventurer staying on one layer so long. A few years, certainly, but 58 years, 47 days on Layer 30? I mean come now, Mr. Perris. What have you been doing here for so long?"
Perris pulled the worn old sunhat from his head, craned his neck back, closed his eyes and let the hot Layer 30 sun warm his face. Then he sighed, put the hat back on, pushed the floppy tip from his eyes, and looked back at The Surveyor.
"Would you like to see what I've been up to?"
An extended grunt reverberated in the Surveyor's throat, amounting to something of a growl. He was thinking – weighing his options. They all made that noise when they were thinking, as if every choice was life or death – as if anything that disturbed their daily schedule had to be considered with the utmost care. They were perfect workers, half a body or not. They didn't need to travel The Thread to figure their lives out, they just did it for the coin.
"I hope you're not trying to butter me up, Mr. Perris," the Surveryor sneered. "It is not in my job description to succumb to buttering."
Perris held one hand up flat by his head, and put the other over his heart. Scout's honor. He didn't know where the gesture came from, but he knew it meant a promise of the highest honor. It must have been a remnant from his life outside The Thread – one of the useless ones they let Adventurers hold onto.
"I promise, no butter," Perris said. The Surveyor nodded reluctantly, and the men set off to the north.