**Kind of narcissistic, isn’t it, having to introduce myself?**
THE BEAST OF TIMES PAST
A S A R I
New Nigeria, 3023
“Why do I have to use pen and paper?” I grumbled. “My MindEtcher is still new. How did you even find paper in the first place?”
Irabor smiled. His eyes always crinkled whenever he smiled, like he was about to tell you an old tale he heard around the campfire as a little boy. But I knew Irabor wasn’t a cheery old man. True, he was 265 years old, but that was equivalent to middle age in the year 3023.
No, Irabor wasn’t old. Or cheery.
Irabor was a criminal, wanted in all countries of the World.
He was currently hiding in my basement in New Nigeria, and he was forcing me to write his memoirs with pen and paper, which I…
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