..and there's this place beyond which even Cosmonauts fear to think..
Beyond here, they spin and spin in worlds and wonders that chill- frank
firestorms and guilt, eventually sinking in the muck of despair.. fuck..
nobody can stand that shit for very long..
But then, how long should it take?
..Ummm.. I dunno.. but you have to realise that even the bears need to eat
sometimes. and it's not a wise thing to keep them hungry..

(Jesus, Bob- you stoned or something? what is this shit?)

..uhh, yeah, well.. ummm... here- take this thing home with you and,.. uhh,
well- do whatever you think it'l take to get it working again.. and for God's
sake, don't tell anyone else the stuff about the bears and cosmonauts and
stuff..

***

Outside the office, Bob hurried through the hallway and slipped into the
janitor's closet like a kid with a Playboy. He'd been away for almost an hour,
and he had no real idea of how time would pass in a place where time was
irrelevant (or at least it seemed to be irrelevant)..
In the dark, dark closet, smelling strongly of bleach and the beach and old
mops and mold.. the beach? beach.. waves crashing and gulls screaming like the
kids in the hallway outside, the bell had rung and the sun was shining- a big
red-golden ball in the washed-out sky that burned his face and cooked his
brains. Bob tore his eyes away from the sun and screamed as he fell to his
knees and buried his face in fistfulls of wet sand to cool the burning..
When the pain had subsided, Bob opened his eyes slightly and found to his
relief that the bright green globe that danced inside his eyelids was
beginning to fade a little, and he could see a little bit around the edges. He
got up and staggered like a wounded deer to a small grove of palms, where he
found a patch of shaded crabgrass that he crumpled onto and immedeately fell
asleep...

***