Donato woke at six eleven, it was six eleven when he woke. There was less sunlight coming in through the pinprick hole above his bed, but that was what people referred to as seasons. Still six eleven.
Somebody was in his cell.
He bolted upright. "Hello?" He heard footsteps walking to his door. Who could it be?
The guards had slid his morning meal under the slat while he'd slept. They did that every morning, too, at six ten. Had to be, since it was there at six eleven, and six ten was before six eleven.
He heard someone's footsteps again before sitting down to eat. The porridge felt cold, although it was the same temperature as every day. Wait, no. Seasons. That explained the cold.
Back to work! Donato turned to the wall and began to scratch in some new figures.
Seasons. Where did they fit in? Legends said there were four. Four limbs on a human, but twenty digits. He'd spoken twenty words in the past five days. Five shafts of light when the torchlight flickered through the bars in the cell window. It worked because there were four bars. Of course.
So many calculations. So much left to do. The latest coat of numbers wasn't even halfway around the room yet. Donato took great care not to mess anything up as he summed the latest year's column.
"Nineteen days, six—" came a voice.
Donato started at the sound. "Who's there?" the voice asked.
He looked around. The cell was empty. Empty, of course, except for Donato. Himself. He began to laugh. Still me. Always still me.
Back to work. "Nineteen days," he calculated. "Six hours. Forty three minutes, and twelve seconds."
"Until what?" came a voice. His voice, of course, because he was the only person here.
"I don't know," he told himself. "Until something big. Something significant. I'll have to do more sums."
"Well, that's not very useful," his voice said. "Do you know the way to Block B? I'm all turned around."
"No I'm not," Donato answered. "I'm right here. Always right here. Always working. So much more to do."
"This is a waste of time," Donato declared. "I'll find somebody else."
"But don't you see?" Donato turned around to look himself in the eyes. "There is nobody else!"
Donato was able to look himself in the eyes because he had grown a second body, the body of an elven woman dressed in leathers. Briefly Donato considered that this could be a second person, but he was still alone in his cell, so the math didn't add up. He did, however, have to spin during the process, which meant that he was all turned around. So he was still correct, mostly, except about the waste of time thing. What else would he be doing?
He got back to work. Two bodies, two races, two genders. Subtract seven... no, eight inches of height. Add six point two eight for the circle that he spun, no, subtract that too because he spun to the right. How many words had it been? No, that wasn't right. Twenty three scoops of porridge. Yes. It was all coming together.
"Nineteen days, six hours, thirty six minutes, and eleven seconds."
Donato turned around. His second part was gone, which meant he'd need to recalculate right away. All he saw was walls filled with writing, and a bed, and an open door.