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He
wondered
whether
there
was
,
somewhere
in
that
vast
pantheon
,
a
god
who
would
look
kindly
on
hard
-
pressed
and
fairly
innocent
law
-
enforcement
officers
who
were
quite
definitely
about
to
die
.
There
probably
wasn
’
t
,
he
thought
bitterly
.
Something
like
that
wasn
’
t
stylish
enough
for
gods
.
Catch
any
god
worrying
about
any
poor
sod
trying
to
do
his
best
for
a
handful
of
dollars
a
month
.
Not
them
.
Gods
went
overboard
for
smart
bastards
whose
idea
of
a
day
’
s
work
was
prising
the
Ruby
Eye
of
the
Earwig
King
out
of
its
socket
,
not
for
some
unimaginative
sap
who
just
pounded
the
pavement
every
night
.
.
.
"
More
sort
of
slithery
,
"
said
the
sergeant
,
who
liked
to
get
things
right
.
And
then
there
was
a
sound
-
-
perhaps
a
volcanic
sound
,
or
the
sound
of
a
boiling
geyser
,
but
at
any
rate
a
long
,
dry
roar
of
a
sound
,
like
the
bellows
in
the
forges
of
the
Titans
-
-
but
it
was
not
so
bad
as
the
light
,
which
was
blue
-
white
and
the
sort
of
light
to
print
the
pattern
of
your
eyeballs
’
blood
vessels
on
the
back
of
the
inside
of
your
skull
.
They
both
went
on
for
hundreds
of
years
and
then
,
instantly
,
stopped
.
The
dark
aftermath
was
filled
with
purple
images
and
,
once
the
ears
regained
an
ability
to
hear
,
a
faint
,
clinkery
sound
.
The
guards
remained
perfectly
still
for
some
time
.
