The sands are hot in the midday; almost welcome after a night of bone cold whispering winds. I can't remember the path I've taken to come here. It doesn't matter because I can't go back, but I know there's just dry, bitter dry sand and parched gullies ahead.

Those damn fools blame me now that they've found a better way, but they took my utensils when there was no other way. They didn't look me in the eye, no, but they took them nonetheless, only smiling again once they left my shed.

But they found another way, yeah, and they sent me out here. "Advances in technology leave us no option, no acceptable reason to allow you to continue your cruel profession." Allow? They needed me! "The

future cannot know of your devices, and so you are banished to the outside. We do not consider this a fitting punishment for the dark age you and others like you helped to prolong. But we are merciful."