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One
thing
I
'll
have
to
learn
before
the
end
of
civilization
is
how
to
look
at
the
stars
and
tell
where
I
'm
going
.
Things
are
quiet
as
driving
a
Cadillac
through
outer
space
.
We
must
be
off
the
freeway
.
The
three
guys
in
the
back
seat
are
passed
out
or
asleep
.
"
You
had
a
near-life
experience
,
"
the
mechanic
says
.
He
takes
one
hand
off
the
steering
wheel
and
touches
the
long
welt
where
my
forehead
bounced
off
the
steering
wheel
.
My
forehead
is
swelling
enough
to
shut
both
my
eyes
,
and
he
runs
a
cold
fingertip
down
the
length
of
the
swelling
.
The
Corniche
hits
a
bump
and
the
pain
seems
to
bump
out
over
my
eyes
like
the
shadow
from
the
brim
of
a
cap
.
Our
twisted
rear
springs
and
bumper
bark
and
creak
in
the
quiet
around
our
rush
down
the
night
road
.
The
mechanic
says
how
the
back
bumper
of
the
Corniche
is
hanging
by
its
ligaments
,
how
it
was
torn
almost
free
when
it
caught
an
end
of
the
truck
's
front
bumper
.
I
ask
,
is
tonight
part
of
his
homework
for
Project
Mayhem
?
"
Part
of
it
,
"
he
says
.
"
I
had
to
make
four
human
sacrifices
,
and
I
have
to
pick
up
a
load
of
fat
.
"
Fat
?
"
For
the
soap
.
"
What
is
Tyler
planning
?
The
mechanic
starts
talking
,
and
it
's
pure
Tyler
Durden
.
