Lesgle smiles too, but with a fair degree of mystification. "Well, we may yet find someone here from a world where humors do explain everything, and then you'll have found a kindred spirit. Er. If you were lacking one."

He rubs the back of his neck. "No, but everything here is strange, and part of the strangeness is the difficulty of putting one's finger on anything wrong. Why--I am used to feeling useless, superfluous, a generally unnecessary sort of a man; but here superfluity takes on a life of its own. --Perhaps we should start a small farm. I have the impression that farmers always have something to worry about; and then you can say Ah, we need rain, or Oh, won't this rain stop..."

This is largely nonsense, but perhaps it will provide Joly enough substance to work out his own ideas on?