In Horatio's reality, meanwhile, every possible salvageable good is already years old - reclaimed and recycled over and over and over again, until the sand and the rain or general wear and tear brings it to an unusable end. He briefly considers the possibility that it was made of some deceptively sturdy form of the material that exists here, but figures this is probably a fantasy.

The other thought that occurs to him is one they share: there was someone responsible, in whose care it was kept safe for a time.

"If that's true, somebody must have brought it. But who brings a thing like this all this way just to hide it and take off? Maybe it is important. Or was, to someone."