I clambered out of the hatch and onto the deck and stopped: I didn’t know where to go now, I didn’t know why I was here. I looked up. There, the worn-out midday sun was ascending dully. Below was the Integral, gray-glassed, inanimate. The rosy blood had drained away and it was clear to me that all this had only been my imagination, that everything was as it had always been, and yet it was also clear that . . . “Hey! 503? What’s wrong? Are you deaf now? I’ve been calling you and calling you . . . what’s wrong with you?” This was the Second Builder—right into my ear. He must have been shouting
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