"It's a picture," Wyatt explained, leaning to see better. "There's these boxes - cameras they're called. We had 'em in my time, not like these exactly, ours were slower. But function seems the same. It puts your picture on paper." He paused, brows furrowing suddenly. "I remember seein'-"

He eased the paper out of Maximus' hands, started flipping through it with the gentle, russling snap of crisp, shining paper. "Here."

He turned it back, showing Maximus' the page that was devoted solely to him, a fat block of text the only other thing to be seen.