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"
You
won
’
t
like
it
.
"
"
I
’
ll
be
the
judge
of
that
.
"
"
All
right
,
Thom
.
But
understand
this
.
I
’
ve
been
here
before
.
I
’
ve
done
this
a
million
times
.
I
care
for
all
the
lost
souls
.
And
I
know
how
it
works
.
You
won
’
t
be
able
to
take
the
raw
reality
of
what
’
s
happened
to
you
.
You
’
ll
shrivel
away
from
it
.
You
’
ll
go
mad
,
unless
I
substitute
a
calming
fiction
,
a
happy
ending
.
"
"
Why
tell
me
that
now
?
"
"
Because
you
don
’
t
have
to
see
it
.
You
can
stop
now
,
where
you
are
,
with
an
idea
of
the
truth
.
An
inkling
.
But
you
don
’
t
have
to
open
your
eyes
.
"
"
Do
it
,
"
I
said
.
Greta
shrugged
.
She
poured
herself
another
measure
of
wine
,
then
made
sure
my
own
glass
was
charged
.
"
You
asked
for
it
,
"
she
said
.
We
were
still
holding
hands
,
two
lovers
sharing
an
intimacy
.
Then
everything
changed
.
It
was
just
a
flash
,
just
a
glimpse
.
Like
the
view
of
an
unfamiliar
room
if
you
turn
the
lights
on
for
an
instant
.
Shapes
and
forms
,
relationships
between
things
.
I
saw
caverns
,
wormed
-
out
and
linked
,
and
things
moving
through
those
caverns
,
bustling
along
with
the
frantic
industry
of
moles
or
termites
.
The
things
were
seldom
alike
,
even
in
the
most
superficial
sense
.
Some
moved
via
propulsive
waves
of
multiple
clawed
limbs
.
Some
wriggled
,
smooth
plaques
of
carapace
grinding
against
the
glassy
rock
of
the
tunnels
.
