[He wakes up looking at the sky, with the sound of the surf in his ears. He finds he likes that, which is not at all a bad way to begin.

His name is Michael. He knows that, like he knows how to pilot his body upright. Everything else is vague. Perhaps the lack of memory ought to be concerning, but it really isn't. This seems ordinary to him - he has a sense already that he is not like the other people he can see in the distance, when he stands up and looks around. Things like him do just spring into being, fully formed. There was a moment like this before, where he just suddenly existed. He could easily believe that these were his first moments of life right here, except for the nagging feeling that he's supposed to be...somewhere else. There's something important, something he's missing.

It's probably more important than admiring the view. But he still lingers for a while, and when he finally turns to walk down the beach in the direction he thinks he ought to go, he's moving slowly.

When he comes across someone else washed up on the beach, he just looks at them for a moment, as if sizing them up. It is, perhaps, rather unnerving. Internally, Michael knows that these aren't people like him - so are they important? He's not decided.]

Have you seen... [But he doesn't know what he's looking for.] ...anything that seems important?

[Having made his way to the market, Michael examines everything he passes with a curious eye. He knows the purpose of a lot of this, in a general sense - but it's all at a remove, like it really has nothing to do with him. He doesn't eat. He doesn't buy clothes, or trinkets. He's not...meant to, maybe, or else he's just above all of that.

This lasts until he sees a carved wooden puzzle in a stall, the sort of thing you need to slide and move and figure out how to disassemble. It's painted in pretty colors. It's even a little shiny!]

Oooh! [He picks it up, fiddling with it a little. He does not immediately figure out the trick to it at all.] Oh, this is interesting!

[He may be...starting to walk away without paying for that.]

[Trailing along after the other beach people seems like a good way to find the most interesting things on the island, so Michael's been keeping that up. Right now, he's headed west from the Boardwalk, to see whatever's drawing people down there.

But when he rounds a bend in the path and sees the enormous squid keeping shop at the swim-up bar, he lets out an involuntary yelp and ducks back behind a tree.

Safely hidden, he leans back against the trunk and presses a hand over his chest. His heart - which he's certain he shouldn't even have - is pounding! And his stomach feels bad? What is that about? Maybe he just doesn't like squids, but he can't quite imagine what he has against them that's this terrible. Is it just irrational?

No. Obviously he's right and squids are disgusting and awful. It's the humans who are wrong!

When he realizes that someone's seen him, he's a little embarrassed, enough so to stand up straight and sneer a little.]

I wouldn't drink anything from that.   

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