“From Carmody’s point of view, he didn’t move at all; it was everything else that moved. The Messenger and the Clerk melted into the background. The Galactic Centre went flat and took on an unmistakable resemblance to a large, poorly executed mural. Then a crack appeared in the upper left-hand corner of the mural, widened and lengthened, and raced down to the lower right-hand corner. The edges curled back, revealing utter blackness. The mural, or Galactic Centre, rolled itself up like two window...shades and left not a wrack behind. ‘Don’t worry, they do it with mirrors,’ the Prize whispered to him. The explanation worried Carmody more than the occurrence. But he kept a tight control on himself and a somewhat tighter control on the Prize. The blackness became complete and utter, soundless and sightless, a paradigm of deep space. Carmody endured it for as long as it lasted, which was incomprehensible. Then, abruptly, the scene resolved. He was standing on ground breathing air. He could see barren mountains the colour of white bone and a river of frozen lava.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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