With a shake of his head, Serph replies, "It's a shop without a person. Every tribe that held territory had one."

He hands Jack back the bowl of porridge, almost all of it completely gone. Despite Serph's distaste for it, he won't waste what was given to him.

"My original world was... restricted. All this," Serph gestures around them, to the forest, their vehicles, even the pockets of blue sky glimpsed between foliage, "is new to me. But there were people."

Many, many more people. If he closes his eyes, he can still picture the orange lights of his original base, Muladhara, glowing bright against the neverending rain. The Junkyard had been a desolate wasteland, but... it was hard to think of this world as any more alive than that.