93 The Pursuit of Freedom

She remembered when they first met in the Inner Nursery, long ago when they'd been children.

Her first impression of him had not been the greatest, so to speak. It'd become a fond memory for her; one that she'd often tease him about after they'd become friends.

He had refused to introduce himself to everyone else, let alone even speak to them — ignoring them whenever he had the opportunity. The only people he'd ever actually respond to were the Elders themselves.

Fifty-eight — it was the number that'd been stitched on his shirt. That was the number that the Elders had given to him.

He was without a real name, much like they'd been when they first arrived.

A meaningless serial number, only befitting for…

An odd boy, that was what she had thought of him. He was unsociable and a bit standoffish, but not so hostile towards them that he'd cause trouble.

An automaton.