[It was not the voices that had scared her the most, but how would she even begin? She had freely spoken about space in her dream, was forthright about the tower and the battle with the brothers, but she had never told anyone about the second half of her dream. A trail of events so nebulous, in the realm of pure conjecture, emotions. How does one explain it? Not even to Gene could she find a way to begin. Or perhaps especially to Gene. Yet without a context, it felt like such a trivial thing—fear of darkness. An inferior, irrational trait. At least focusing on the voices was focusing on things tangible.]

More accurately, vanishing into solid rock. The voice was vague, I couldn't make out anything other than my name. [Then she added.] This name. Not my real one. And also the words...

'Too late.'