The man on the cliff with the telescope looking down through the clouds here and there seeing the numerous inhabitants below stretching out to infinity; he watches them treat one another awfully. They live by eating each other's flesh. Would they otherwise die? He doesn't know. Clouds always get in the way soon enough and it's impossible to relocate the vast majority once they've been lost. For eating each other they have a little implement which pulls chunks out of each other's flesh. They're bodies are covered in scars. Do they eventually run out of flesh or does it grow back? He has no idea. He is very far away with a very powerful telescope and just catches bits and pieces of the action here and there in between the cloud cover.

What is strange is that they have the same plants down there that he has up here and he's found that they plants are nutritious and filling. He has never seen any of them eat a plant though.

When they doze (and they never go further than dozing) the majority will pair up in twos and sleep in a sitting position leaning against each other's backs. This way they have no blind side. Unfortunately even the majority in these relationships can't really trust the other. He has often seen one take an extra hefty chunk out of the other who then laid on the floor and writhed in agony as the other ran off to eat.

For years and years he has watched. Who put this telescope up here anyway? It upsets him so to watch them. Why does he keep looking? What is it that he thinks he'll find?

Oh how the people of the plain smile when they meet one another. But invariably the flesh implements flash. He watches and is still often shocked. How can this be? As many times as he's seen it before?