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- Исаак Азимов
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--
into
silence
!
It
was
death
!
It
was
a
world
of
no
motion
and
no
sensation
.
A
world
of
dim
,
unsensing
consciousness
;
a
consciousness
of
darkness
and
of
silence
and
of
formless
struggle
.
Most
of
all
a
consciousness
of
eternity
.
He
was
a
tiny
white
thread
of
ego
--
cold
and
afraid
.
Then
the
words
came
,
unctuous
and
sonorous
,
thundering
over
him
in
a
foam
of
sound
:
"
Does
your
coffin
fit
differently
lately
?
Why
not
try
Morbid
M.
Cadaver
's
extensible
caskets
?
They
are
scientifically
designed
to
fit
the
natural
curves
of
the
body
,
and
are
enriched
with
Vitamin
B1
.
Use
Cadaver
's
caskets
for
comfort
.
Remember
--
you
're
--
going
--
to
--
be
--
dead
--
a
--
long
--
long
--
time
!
"
It
was
n't
quite
sound
,
but
whatever
it
was
,
it
died
away
in
an
oily
rumbling
whisper
.
The
white
thread
that
might
have
been
Powell
heaved
uselessly
at
the
insubstantial
eons
of
time
that
existed
all
about
him
--
and
collapsed
upon
itself
as
the
piercing
shriek
of
a
hundred
million
ghosts
of
a
hundred
million
soprano
voices
rose
to
a
crescendo
of
melody
:
