Roland struggled to maintain his balance. Standing atop a giant centrifuge, he spun wildly at the rate set by the machine. Around him, tubes filled with blood followed the movement at a slower pace. The liquid sometimes produced bubbles that burst in the form of mocking faces, just under the priest’s nose, but he refused to pay attention to them. Only the rate of rotation mattered. Suddenly, a tube detached from the madness and flew into the surrounding darkness, beyond his reach. A second followed it and, leaping onto the third, Roland grabbed it by the end. His tiny fingers could barely grasp the glass flange which finally escaped him. He gazed in horror at the substance of his work which was pouring into the void in a huge slimy puddle.
Ecclesio’s voice woke him gently. He opened his e
