"My people -- we're going. It has been decided. We've gotten what we came for."
Without another word, he set off towards his van. We followed along behind,
shell-shocked.
Craphound's exoskeleton executed another macro and slid the panel-door aside,
revealing the cowboy trunk.
"I wanted to give you this. I will keep the glasses."
"I don't understand," I said.
"You're all leaving?" Scott asked, with a note of urgency.
"It has been decided. We'll go over the next twenty-four hours."
"But _why_?" Scott said, sounding almost petulant.
"It's not something that I can easily explain. As you must know, the things we
gave you were trinkets to us -- almost worthless. We traded them for something
that was almost worthless to you -- a fair trade, you'll agree -- but it's time
to move on."
Craphound handed me the cowboy trunk. Holding it, I smelled the lubricant from
his exoskeleton and the smell of the attic it had been mummified in before
making its way into his hands. I felt like I almost understood.
"This is for me," I said slowly, and Craphound nodded encouragingly.
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