"An' that was four generations back'r so; ain't exactly earth-shakin' news ta a lot of folks, so don't think it's really changin' things fer people now."

"Your steadfastness does you credit, Deputy," I murmur, turning my lips in a weary smile, though my mood has curdled. I don't fool Memory, at the very least: I can see her temper improving by the second, her steps now as light and precise as a yearling's. "Forgive a tired brother his misgivings. A man accumulates more than dust when he travels." If he is correct, if a handful of generations are sufficient to erase scars of that magnitude from the order of being and human memory... I refuse to believe that. Left to its own devices, humankind would walk willfully to its destruction all over again.

Foolish creatures, all.

I follow his finger as he points out the answers to my questions, nodding and noting. "Stable and rooms at the Whitechapel," I repeat. "Apartment houses in town. General Store-- Miss O'Hara. Got it." I pass Memory's lead to my left hand, reaching to grab the mule's halter with the same so that I can warmly extend my right hand to my companion. "Many thanks for your kindness, Deputy Hollow. You've been a great help, but I don't wish to keep you from your duties."