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Chapter 11
Iwastornbyanexquisiteanddisruptiveagony.AndontheinstantIwasDarrellStanding,thelife-convict,lyinginhisstrait-jacketinsolitary.AndIknewtheimmediatecauseofthatsummons.ItwasarapoftheknucklebyEdMorrell,inCellFive,beginningthespellingofsomemessage.
Andnow,togivesomecomprehensionoftheextensionoftimeandspacethatIwasexperiencing.ManydaysafterwardsIaskedMorrellwhathehadtriedtoconveytome.Itwasasimplemessage,namely:“Standing,areyouthere?”Hehadtappeditrapidly,whiletheguardwasatthefarendofthecorridorintowhichthesolitarycellsopened.AsIsay,hehadtappedthemessageveryrapidly.Andnowbehold!BetweenthefirsttapandthesecondIwasoffandawayamongthestars,cladinfleecygarments,touchingeachstarasIpassedinmypursuitoftheformulæthatwouldexplainthelastmysteryoflife.And,asbefore,Ipursuedthequestforcenturies.Thencamethesummons,thestampofthehoofofdoom,theexquisitedisruptiveagony,andagainIwasbackinmycellinSanQuentin.ItwasthesecondtapofEdMorrell’sknuckle.Theintervalbetweenitandthefirsttapcouldhavebeennomorethanafifthofasecond.Andyet,sounthinkablyenormouswastheextensionoftimetome,thatinthecourseofthatfifthofasecondIhadbeenawaystar-rovingforlongages.
NowIknow,myreader,thattheforegoingseemsallafarrago.Iagreewithyou.
