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August 7, 2012
FORTY-FIVE YEARS.

— Yes.

I admit, I am surprised to find you alive.

— Ha. I’m surprised myself. It has been ... I am not convinced you’re real.

No, I understand. I do.

— Are you real?

Yes, I believe myself to be.

— What was your name?

It was ... I was ... Benson. I was Bruce Benson.

— I was Michelson.

Michelson. Of course.

— They haven’t come back for us, Bruce Benson.

No, Michelson. Not yet.

— Not yet.

We were at M.I.T.

— M ...

We were at M.I.T. And it was spring!

— I ...

My God. Spring.

— I remember.

Oh, Benson, do you? Gentle rain, blossom breezes?