Swamped

"So, um, there's been a lot happening around here lately. How do you feel about it?"

The priest glances vaguely at the machinery around the edges of the tent.

"The anomalies have meant more work for me. Somehow they're throwing off my instruments. The charts have been completely inaccurate for days, and I only got the wrench I need to fix it late last night. Too late to actually do anything about it. And it took me two hours this morning to finally get it working... until it breaks again, naturally."

You don't think you really followed any of that.

"What's all the machinery for?"

"I study the weather," he says. "This machinery records various details about it. Some days it's hotter than others, and I'm the one keeping track of that."

"Is it a lot of work, then?"

"Not so much once I got the system set up - now most of what I do is write down the results so they can be archived. But that only applies when the thing actually works, which isn't that often these days."

"What about us coming in, has that had any impact?"

"Well, it's meant I haven't had to prepare a memorial service for the Director. And you don't keep me nearly as busy as the pilgrims do. So on the whole, it's been pretty good for me that your group turned up."

You're finding it hard to talk to him. He seems so detached. You're not sure where to go from here.