The man's body had not moved, only the screen had changed.  It was not odd to communicate to a screen–he had been used to that.  The fact that this stranger had asked him a question and immediately invalidated his answer.

    "What do you mean!?  Tell me who I am!"

    The chair swiveled slightly, then back.  "All you know... it's from those journals, is that not correct?"

    Mark remained silent.  The text on the screen continued.

    "Those were not written by you, young one.  Those were written by those before you.  You are different."

    The lifeless man, with great strain, lifted his right arm and pointed to the screens that covered the interior of the room.

    "Look around, the screens.  These screens assist my panoptic surveillances.  Look closely at what I am monitoring."

    Mark observed the screens, each containing roughly the same visual–a dark gray room similar to his, but from the view of the terminal screen.  In most, the room was empty.  In some, a lone wheelchair sit empty.  But most alarmingly, he saw the rest with a lone figure–two humanoid arms attached underneath a hovering robotic unit–sitting in a wheelchair and staring at the screen.  Staring back at Mark.

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