This is hell, Ustinov thinks. I’m in hell. “Oh, no,” says the dedy whipping him. “This is just torture. You suffered through this because you wanted to be a real soldier, didn’t you? A real soldier like the one who did this to you. Real soldiers are men who torture dukh boys. Soon this part will be over, and you will graduate. You will travel forward across the terrain of yourself to the place you have prepared. “Hell begins when you’re the one holding the pool cue.”
