A swell of people poured out of the concourse toward Kevin. They flowed toward the baggage claim belt and hovered around it. Some of them were met by people who had been waiting. Small huddles of people formed as greetings were made. One huddle blocked Kevin’s view of the concourse. He scanned the crowd for anyone that might look like what he imagined a Memorite would look like, although, he admitted to himself, his only example was mainly distinguished by a rather large, gaping head wound. He decided that nobody in the immediate vicinity fit that criteria, so he kept looking.