“I want to go to Martina,” he thought. “It was good being with her, and it’s bad here. It’s bad in the sarcophagus; it’s bad by the well…” And he said in a low voice but resolutely: “Yes!”
“Then take action yourself. A person always knows what they have to do.”
And a blinding gold light trickled out of the well and liquefied everyone and everything. Then there was blackness.
5.
No, it’s not blackness, it’s light. Fluorescent bulbs. And not below, but above. So I’m lying on my back, he realised. I’m looking through glass. I’m in the sarcophagus. I’m not alive, the sarcophagus is living for me. But it’s very comfortable to lie down. If I just don’t think about what’s happening around me, about how Martina is… There are some sort of red lights on the wall. They’re pulsing…
This was a sig
