Thousands of years old. It's so - organized - it reminds Mhalir obscurely of his own note-keeping, he started doing it as soon as he had hands and the ability to write - it's somewhat redundant now with Alloran, his quick Andalite mind and brain chip, but he doesn't know that he'll have Alloran's body forever.
...He's done so many things. So many of them awful. Lives burned for fuel - a ledger of numbers, from a very long time ago, his careful calculations of how this many deaths worth of power could increase crop yields this amount, with this likelihood - and always the same question, matter-of-fact, unemotional save for the inevitable background current of determination, is it worth it.
Less crisp but more recent memories - reading about Hitler, about Hiroshima, pacing in the dark and hurting, a painful update, absorbing something that was already true before he knew it, this is reality - vague recall of nightmares, not real but echoes of a reality, a tower going up in flames, a man -
<Who was Urtho>