The cloud saint has pulled two children from the wreckage of their home in Italy. They were in a smaller village and were unlikely to have survived long enough for the main rescue effort to reach them.
Naturally it is wonderful that the children were saved, however, the cloud saint does not normally become involved with the mundane world, leading some to be suspicious of his motives. The children will have to be watched carefully to see what they become. It is equally likely though that they will merely impact tangentially on another important life or event, perhaps through a long improbable chain like the famous butterfly flapping its wings. This is why prophets and prophecies are annoying.
The cloud saint walks across the world, following hidden signs in the shape of clouds. He was initially dismissed as sanity-impaired, but his continuous ability to show up at important events and occasional prophetic (if cryptic) pronouncements has led to the consensus that he can see things the rest of us cannot. If you suggest this to the cloud saint it infuriates him. He will instantly burst into a high volume explanation of how stupid humanity is in general for its inability to read simple signs. Apparently the clouds are as obvious as gigantic arrows, dotted lines and so on. He will then, inevitably, move into a crushing examination of your own personal flaws. He shows up at the Archive irregularly and there is something of a rite of passage among the younger staff to send the member with the largest perceived ego to make this suggestion. No ego has yet survived the process. He gets pretty cutting, let me tell you.
There is some debate about whether the clouds really do contain signs, or whether the cloud saint is simply a slightly mad oracle whose subconscious interprets the future that way. If it is the clouds then this raises the question of whether the clouds are themselves prophetic or whether they are being influenced by a third party. The cloud saint himself is not telling.
Note: Just as I was about to post this entry I received a letter, sent two weeks ago from southern Germany, from the cloud saint. In rather scrappy handwriting he informs me that my article is trite and pointless, the idea that the messages come from his subconscious is facile and that I should keep my criticisms of others’ handwriting to myself. Apparently the clouds can be rather detailed.
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