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Show Acting Alone Page 36s I go round us up a Nebraskan stegosaurus media-figure and fetch him back here. I want Sgt. Spikey to see these books and feel them before they disintegrate, possibly to learn something on some necessarily non-verbal level, maybe even to amend his ways, be improved by exposure to these splendid, doomed concretions of Logos. You can sympathize with that, can't you, Granny? You're a nun and want to save guys, too, huh?" She never even looked at him. She said nothing. She simply took her turn. "Have mercy on us," she said. So Sam stole her fat white candle from the weak grasp of the little claw he'd earlier stepped on, and he left her gasping in the dark, trying to balance the double load on her frail lap. He puffed out his courage and his chest, and ventured into the deeper ramifications of the tunnels, in search of a salvageable murderer. He spelunked down further and further, blindly down into solid light-tight igneous rock, winding left and right, taking always the easier, more downward-winding slope - more out of habitual lethargy than out of any infallible hunter-of-men instinct. Eventually he got so deep that even the roar above-ground had lost its directional intensity and had diminished to sourceless stomach-rumbles, as of a giant muffled minotaur panting and sweating somewhere near. At times he thought he could still hear the banging of the friars and the chanting of the nuns; but that may have been the prematurely hypertensive blood flushing rhythmically though his ears as |