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“What an amazing orator!” said John after the strange robed man walked off. D’arby just grunted and said nothing. He hardly said anything for the rest of the day, no matter how hard John tried to prompt him. At first John managed to remain good humoured, but by night time he’d had enough.
“What is friggin wrong with you?” John demanded after 20 minutes of watching D’arby spin a pen around on the table.
D’arby rubbed his eyes and sighed. “That man we saw at the café this morning who was wearing a white robe and preaching is the same man who sat next to me when I went to visit Jinabu and who stole my draft plan for saving the world. And the notebook he had was red, just like the one I lost on the train yesterday. The things he was saying yesterday were not really part of my plans, but it is as if he is able to imagine what I am thinking, only he is better able to articulate my thoughts than I am, and he is a much better speaker. Imagine how you would feel if you came across a more effective version of yourself.”
“Ha, I get you” said John, thinking of his brother Tim, although John hadn’t fully understood the significance of the robed man having a red notebook that looked like D’arby’s. “But isn’t it good to find that someone else has the same ideas as you?” asked John.
“Don’t you understand? Or do you think I’m just being paranoid?” asked D’arby. “That man doesn’t have the same ideas as me, he STEALS my ideas! But then he does better with them than I do. He goes out and tells people things, while I just sit around stewing.”
John found what D’arby said a bit disturbing, and did start to think that D’arby might be a bit paranoid. Afterall, it is possible for two people to have the same opinion, and to have the same colour notebook. But John decided to humour D’arby and see if D’arby’s mood would pass on its own. “That’s good though, isn’t it?” said John. “I mean, if he is going around and preaching your ideas then you don’t need to do it yourself and have more time to think. Besides, I don’t think you’d really enjoy doing what he is doing.”
“I guess so” said D’arby, after thinking about it for a while. “But it is a bit creepy. I can’t help imagining that if I look out the window I’ll see him peeping in at us”
John couldn’t help himself and found himself turning to look out of the window, but he could see nothing worth noting except the last remnants of sunset.
The Inkling 