Jonas obeyed cheerfully. He closed his eyes, waiting, and felt the hands again;
then he felt the warmth again, the sunshine again, coming from the sky of this other consciousness that was so new to him.
This time, as he lay basking in the wonderful warmth, he felt the passage of time.
His real self was aware that it was only a minute or two; but his other, memory-receiving self felt hours pass in the sun.
His skin began to sting. Restlessly he moved one arm, bending it, and felt a sharp pain in the crease of his inner arm at the elbow.
“Ouch,” he said loudly, and shifted on the bed. “Owwww,” he said, wincing at the shift, and even moving his mouth to speak made his face hurt.
He knew there was a word, but the pain kept him from grasping it. Then it ended.
He opened his eyes, wincing with discomfort. “It hurt,” he told the man, “and I couldn’t get the word for it.”
“It was sunburn,” the old man told him. “It hurt a lot,” Jonas said, “but I’m glad you gave it to me.
It was interesting. And now I understand better, what it meant, that there would be pain.”
The man didn’t respond. He sat silently for a second. Finally he said, “Get up, now. It’s time for you to go home.”
They both walked to the center of the room. Jonas put his tunic back on.
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