As
he finished speaking, Oak took an acorn from his trouser pocket,
which he blew on then shined against his lapel for a few moments.
Once satisfied with its shine he placed it in the centre of the map,
cup side down.
“Show
development to 1800 as yellow,” he said. A yellow line appeared on
the paper where the acorn sat, travelling in a straight line to the
edge of the paper. Once it had got there, the line began to move
around the paper like the hand of a clock. I gasped when a yellow
farm suddenly appeared in its wake. I was about to protest about the
damage to my map when he spoke. “Relax, Edward,” he said, “These
marks aren't permanent.”
The
line completed its journey and disappeared, leaving a number of new
details on the map. “First half of the nineteenth century,” Oak
commanded, “As green.”
