He'd wandered confusedly to this place. This time. "You must go forward; only forward." she'd said. He obeyed. Thou shalt not fuck with the powers that be, yes? Regardless of how much delight they take in fucking with you. Not to mention that this shit was confusing enough as it was.
He'd found them here. The Truthtellers. His senses filled with their unintelligible noise. He recalled a large book in a very important looking library that stated that there were seven of them. He'd also seen a grafittied wall in a dirty winding road off La Rambla in Barcelona where some punk had drawn a scene with The Truthtellers on a stage, decked out in bling and throwing down on mics; five of them in all.
He figured the graffiti was more likely to get the number right but, really, he expected both sources to be wrong. So he counted. Counting eight in all, he adjusted for his having counted and came to thirteen. Joy surged through the ether as the universe celebrated the injection of new truth. He felt this and dared not confirm his final figure, for fear of killing the new Truthtellers. Killing Truthtellers seriously pissed off the powers that be.
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