Dilandau did not know what a message board was. He knew what a journal was, he'd seen one. A little book where people wrote their private thoughts. It wasn't something he'd ever had any use for. He didn't understand how using one could possibly help in finding someone, however.

'What journal?' he asked, having forgotten the scattered pamphlets and pink box that he'd dropped when the man first arrived. 'How do you do that?'