“Three Hundred and Eighty Seven, Three Hundred and Eighty Eight…”
Lazarus allowed the gentle drone of Locke’s voice to continue uninterrupted, pushing the words from his consciousness, but retaining the gentle meter of the chant.
He found it rather calming.
Looking around him, the Preacher attempted to get a feel for his location in the ship. He had few prior experiences to draw upon, and found the metal intestines of this inter-stellar beast all looked alike; a sprawling maze of bulkheads and doors, all matching in colour, all matching in size, and all passing him by with no reference points to draw on. He sighed and shook his head.
Looking forwards, he watched Locke for a moment; he was certainly the person to ask about navigating the vessel’s corridors and hallways, but at another point. At the present time, he was staring intently downwards at his feet as he walked through the ship counting, not even having to look where he was going, focusing all his energies on maintaining the count.
Lazarus stifled a giggle as part of his brain threw forwards the notion of shouting out numbers at random, then, with a stern cough, he mentally chastised himself for such petty thoughts and apologised to the Emperor for even contemplating such an act.