Dupree thought about the last two days, imagining a thing that traveled like a wave or a current, invisible until it rolled across your path, when it raised the hair on your neck or made you shiver, its wind pooling with other winds, drawing into streams into branches into rivers that bulged and ran over their banks. He imagined the thing picking up momentum and curling back on itself, doubling and tripling its density and gravity as it spun faster and faster around itself. A whirlpool. A black hole. Fly into a black hole, the theory went, and you emerged on the other side of the universe.
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