These buildings"--he pointed to what looked like large white cans sitting on the ground--"these are silos. They hold seed for the bad times. For until the times get good again." He looked up at her. They were just a few feet apart, Juliette and him. She could see the wrinkles around his eyes, could see how much the beard concealed his age. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say," she told him. He pointed at her. Pointed at his own chest. "We are the seeds," he said. "This is a silo. They put us here for the bad times.
These buildings"--he pointed to what looked like large white cans sitting on the ground--"these are silos. They hold seed for the bad times. For until the times get good again." He looked up at her. They were just a few feet apart, Juliette and him. She could see the wrinkles around his eyes, could see how much the beard concealed his age. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say," she told him. He pointed at her. Pointed at his own chest. "We are the seeds," he said. "This is a silo. They put us here for the bad times.