He counted how long he could live like this. Using the cash. Did the math in his head. 120 years he could last. But with inflation he could probably last until the day he died. Of course he wasn't planning to live in the shadow forever. Eventually the people who wanted him dead would move on. Marc Love only needed to live in the dark until then.

Cash only. No online accounts linked to his name or address. No work. No staying visiting of major cities. He'd been in places like 

Gas City

exclusively for the past few years. He read used books. Some of them were printed before the 40s. People liked to talk about 

Technology

and progress an awful lot. Touching and smelling the pulp of an old book grounded him. Realizing how durable a simple thing such as a pile of papers bound together could be. More durable than a slick machine that needed to be tethered to a stream of electricity coming from a wall.

Love missed going to museums. There were few out here. And none as good as the major cities had. No 4000 old helmets. Or 8000 year old ceramic pots. Crazy how everything faded. And yet there were examples of things lasting so long. Everyday items like a wine pourer. How did it survive this long? To finally end up behind a glass shell. Protected by curators.

Love touched the cover of the book. Sipped what remained of his coffee. Then the sound of loud music disrupted his peace. It was the same car that came speeding in everyday. Loud music. Obscene license plate. The one thing Love disliked about this diner.