Sherman had listened to Vanderbilt quietly, with no interruption from himself, for two reasons, the first being that he was altogether much too engrossed in the Department Head's words. The second was that Corin kind of scared him. But, after the man had finished speaking, the elderly Time Specialist had moments to think about the content of the discussion. He was so dearly attached to his position, so he wasn't sure if he was excited or not about others coming and filling in spots for his co-workers. He was slightly afraid of mistakenly calling them by the wrong name— there's only so much an old and weathered brain can hold.

The Mysteries employee rattled off the Divisions under his breath. God knew he couldn't work in the Space Chamber or Death Chamber, which were no place for an elderly man. The Ever-Locked Room seemed quite creepy, and didn't the Thought Chamber have floating brains in it? This whole idea of switching occupations just seemed... uncalled for. But then, he recalled the Hall of Prophecy. The dear old thing just loved the small, glass orbs filled with prophetic visions. When he first was accepted into the Department of Mysteries, Sherman was hoping that his position would be in there. He could wheel freely to the Hall, with nothing to crash into or bang, like a normal work-space. Day after day, he could retrieve and observe the orbs. It sounded like an ideal job, especially for the handicapped sixty-six year old.

The man raised his hand, somewhat shyly, and offered his question aloud. "Do we have to make the switch permanent?" What if the Hall wasn't all he had hoped? To never be able to return to the Time Chamber again... he shook his head, clearing it, and waited patiently for his answer.