“Sir, I apologize for my lack of understanding...” He waited, but the man did not give the standard accepting-of-apology response.
After a moment, Jonas went on, “But I thought—I mean I think,” he corrected,
reminding himself that if precision of language were ever to be important, it was certainly important now, in the presence of this man,
“that you are the Receiver of Memory. I’m only, well, I was only assigned, I mean selected, yesterday. I’m not anything at all. Not yet.”
The man looked at him thoughtfully, silently. It was a look that combined interest, curiosity, concern, and perhaps a little sympathy as well.
Finally he spoke. “Beginning today, this moment, at least to me, you are The Receiver.
“I have been The Receiver for a long time. A very, very long time. You can see that, can’t you?”
Jonas nodded. The man was wrinkled, and his eyes, though piercing in their unusual lightness, seemed tired.
The flesh around them was darkened into shadowed circles. “I can see that you are very old,” Jonas responded with respect.
The Old were always given the highest respect. The man smiled.
He touched the sagging flesh on his own face with amusement. “I am not, actually, as old as I look,” he told Jonas.
“This job has aged me. I know I look as if I should be scheduled for release very soon. But actually I have a good deal of time left.
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