Oliver remember the slingshot hed created and used on Chris. The coincidence struck him, and the sense of it lingered, mixing with all the other emotions coursing through him.

I excelled at school, Armando continued. Although I didnt get along very well with any of the children.

You and me both, Oliver added.

They reached a room and Armando strolled inside. It was a library, Oliver saw, with high ceilings and wooden floorboards. A spiral staircase led to a second level where there was a comfy-looking floral armchair and a large reading lamp.

Armando took a book from the shelf beside him. It was a leather-bound tome with the title embossed in gold: Odontodactylus scyllarus.

I read voraciously, Armando said. I wanted to learn about all the laws of physics, about the history of aviation. Everything. I was what you would call a nerd.

Oliver just nodded. Armandos story was so similar to his own, it was comforting. He watched Armando wistfully place the book back on the shelf. Then he wandered slowly out of the room. Oliver followed, curiosity driving him on.

I left school with good grades and went to college, Armando continued as he walked. Thats when things really started to pick up for me. I had access for the first time to materials and tools, to workshops, and of course some brilliant mentors. Some of the best minds.

Suddenly, a swooping mechanical pheasant flew overhead, making Oliver gasp and duck. Its underbelly skimmed Olivers head, and Oliver saw it was the same rainbow color as an oil spill. Armando himself didnt seem too surprised by the intrusion. He kept talking. Oliver straightened up and brushed himself down.

There was an enthusiasm then for innovation, Armando was saying. And the war afforded me a real opportunity. They were willing to take risks on bright minds like mine. I started off inventing things for the war effort, you see.

He gestured into a room. Oliver saw it was the one with the military tank inside. It had a myriad of bizarre weapons protruding from the front. In the brighter light, Oliver could also see now that there were all kinds of different types of tracks and tires lining the room, some made of rubber, others of metal, others still with sharp spikes upon them.

They gave me this factory, Armando said, moving on. And people to work alongside me.

Really? Oliver asked, a little taken aback. His book had made no real mention of Armando actually having a running factory. Hed been painted as a loon, someone who got caught up in flights of fantasy rather than someone who was trusted to run a factory, and indeed someone whod been somewhat successful at it.

Armando nodded. I know. It seems strange to think it now. Now that everything here has become so… quiet.

He seemed lost for a second in his reverie. But then he snapped back to the moment again and led Oliver slowly onward.