The Always set about (as always) questioning his Method, now on purpose.

He was determined to access and map the sum of all he had ever written back to the literature.

This would be his way of catching up and starting over.

Plus, he was so looking forward to reaching out to many of his old Outlier clients.

Yet The Always [always] found himself filled with the funniest sense of being but steps away from uncovering whole volumes of research that he, himself, had written and forgotten about.

A new tattoo beneath his left wrist read: “Am I ignoring ANY evidence against my own conclusions?”

And his current question noted to ponder:

Could all Outliers have quit school because I once doubted the value of my own education?

No, of course not.

He was pretty sure whatever it was that connected them all could never be quite that direct or black-and-white.

Such would be too easy.

Too deniable.

Too unfalsifiable for the likes of his Method.

At least he hoped so.

And now that all was almost done being compiled and retold, his attention was caught away from the words by the voice of the re-teller, which sounded unmistakably like that of a pretend victim . . . a happy prisoner . . . an unknown friend…