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"
Take
'
er
easy
.
I
'll
go
first
.
My
skull
's
too
thick
for
them
to
hurt
me
.
And
if
they
ca
n't
hurt
me
they
ca
n't
hurt
you
.
"
Climbs
on
the
table
without
any
help
and
spreads
his
arms
out
to
fit
the
shadow
.
A
switch
snaps
the
clasps
on
his
wrists
,
ankles
,
clamping
him
into
the
shadow
.
A
hand
takes
off
his
wristwatch
,
won
it
from
Scanlon
,
drops
it
near
the
panel
,
it
springs
open
,
cogs
and
wheels
and
the
long
dribbling
spiral
of
spring
jumping
against
the
side
of
the
panel
and
sticking
fast
.
He
do
n't
look
a
bit
scared
.
He
keeps
grinning
at
me
.
They
put
the
graphite
salve
on
his
temples
.
"
What
is
it
?
"
he
says
.
"
Conductant
,
"
the
technician
says
.
"
Anointest
my
head
with
conductant
.
Do
I
get
a
crown
of
thorns
?
"
They
smear
it
on
.
He
's
singing
to
them
,
makes
their
hands
shake
.
"
'
Get
Wildroot
Cream
Oil
,
Cholly
...
.
'
"
Put
on
those
things
like
headphones
,
crown
of
silver
thorns
over
the
graphite
at
his
temples
.
They
try
to
hush
his
singing
with
a
piece
of
rubber
hose
for
him
to
bite
on
.
"
'
Mage
with
thoothing
lan-o-lin
.
'
"
Twist
some
dials
,
and
the
machine
trembles
,
two
robot
arms
pick
up
soldering
irons
and
hunch
down
on
him
.
He
gives
me
the
wink
and
speaks
to
me
,
muffled
,
tells
me
something
,
says
something
to
me
around
that
rubber
hose
just
as
those
irons
get
close
enough
to
the
silver
on
his
temples
--
light
arcs
across
,
stiffens
him
,
bridges
him
up
off
the
table
till
nothing
is
down
but
his
wrists
and
ankles
and
out
around
that
crimped
black
rubber
hose
a
sound
like
hooeee
!
and
he
's
frosted
over
completely
with
sparks
.
