would envelop him. The sun would peek over the horizon any second.
             "Mung," I said. "It is time to leave. The sun will rise." But he stayed.
             "Mung," I said, turning up the intensity. "You will be sick and die if you stay." He didn't budge. I hesitated to put the microphone on full intensity, but if he didn't move, we were both in some big trouble. I turned it up.
             "Leave now, boy, or you will be dead soon!" I shouted into the mike. Mung leapt off his rock and scurried to the cave. He wiped the sweat off his brow and started to dig a sleep-hole.
             "Who are you?" he asked to thin air. That got my attention. I shut up, but he repeated the question. "Who are you in my head?" When I didn't answer he banged his head against the wall. "Who are you?!?" More banging.
             "Stop," I said with full sonic. "Stop banging your head. I'm going to talk to you now."
             "Who are you?" he asked again.
             "I'm, uh," I stuttered. There was no policy covering this. &quo
             ...