Down below we could see the city, the long red bridge, the tall grey buildings, the sparkling blue-green water, the crescent shaped bay with silver ships pulling in looking for anchorage. It was very early and very windy and we were up in the hills above the heavily populated city looking for strange tracks, fresh spore, or recent tailings. Every once in a while we’d hear a shrill whistle and one of the uniformed officers would gesture and the whole line of us would move off in a different direction.

I guess there were a hundred armed men in the group, searching for victims, or clues, or tracks, or tufts of golden hair, or trees with scratches etched in them, anything… anything concrete… or just… anything.

Even something merely suggestive might ultimately be of use to us. Might indicate what kind of world we were in. Might point us to the correct eigenstate.

The grass was tall. The shrubs tall.

There were scattered dense clumps of trees and the terrain was very rugged. I was told horses were being sent up from the mounted division; that they would be joining us around twelve. That would help.

I was carrying a shotgun. I kept it cradled in my arms. I had a pocket full of shells and on my belt I had a nice hunting knife and on my other side a cell phone set on vibrate. I was tempted to call the institute, but knew better. They already had my number and they would have called me had they any news. I was tired. Of all the people on the hill I was probably the most tired. And probably the most confused. Certainly the one most concerned.

I counted on my fingers and confirmed the number I’d already figured out in my head. I’d been awake for almost 50 hours. I was starting to hear things that, maybe, weren’t there. I was starting to hear deep pre-historic growls and stealthy padded feet approaching me from behind. I kept turning around quickly, putting my shotgun at port arms… which greatly disturbed the sheriff’s deputy walking nearby.