Background: This is the fifteenth story in a series
Any two passers-by could have accurately described where he stood, or sat, and what he held, or did. They could have also correctly identified the color of his attire. But — in spite of exquisite detail — neither would agree on Mr. Morning’s actual clothing, facial features, or occasionally, gender.
Chaperones and other agents possessed this trait, which faded the longer they remained in a Compression Field. If they remained well beyond their allotted time, they would gradually condense into one identifiable physical form. This was in addition to the loss of reason and memory.
So it was important to Mr. Morning, before that happened, to stay within low currents of active consciousness; regions within crowds where people were paying the least attention.
In other words, he thought, I need to hide.
Mr. Morning walked into the crowd, drifting along with the people. His awareness took in every mind nearby and found, as a general summary, that many were unfavorably familiar with some nearby alleyways. These would be good places to confine himself while he sought out the anomaly.
He had just decided to head towards the nearest of the alleys when he realized that a lot of the crowd was turning to stare directly at him.
Next: The Girl