Down the dark aisles, then; and that in itself was a strange experience. For somehow, incredibly, and in spite of the surrounding, all-pervasive black, there was always just light enough for us to see our way. Yet where it came from, or how, remained a mystery to the end.

We reached the second room, the misshapen, distorted room in which Celeste and I had sat and talked. It was empty now, all traces of the living sculpture gone.

On again, down yet another of the echoing aisles.

I waited till we reached the first cross-track leading off between stacked battens, then turned aside.

Instantly, we stood in utter darkness. All trace of the guiding radiance disappeared.

Pressed to me, Celeste shivered. I gripped her tight and wiped sudden, icy beads of sweat from my forehead as, hastily, I groped my way back to our original route.

Like magic, light was with us once again.

More shadows, more echoing stillness, more stacked battens. Then another door. A heavy door, barred on the inside.

Sliding back the bolts, I swung it open.

A street.

Not speaking, hardly daring to breathe, we crossed the threshold. I wondered if it were only my imagination that made the stars so bright, the night so still.

The base-block at the first crossing oriented me: We were less than ten minutes' walk from Rizal Security headquarters.

Still wordless, as if by mutual agreement we turned that way.

As we did so, my belly knotted with a new and different type of tension.

Before, there'd been the awful, taut frustration of blocked action.

Now, I faced more subtle torments: the battle of the self, the gnawing problem of decision.

There was a voco station a block from the headquarters. Stepping inside, I punched out Security's number.

"Rizal Security." It was a sleepy voice.

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