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A formula to cause ratlike mutations in unborn babies*

A beam that could dehydrate living tissue, make a living body into a dry, dead corpse in seconds*

There were many of the G a.s.sociation thoughts, several different progressions of them which led toward one distant point whose nature I could not quite ascertain* * an inordinately large number of G thoughts. I was interested in exploring their source and their destiny, but they did not seem to be what I needed.

Then I found it. A stray thought, the ultimate weapon.

F* Field* Force Field capable of stopping all entry by anything, including air, permitting neither bombs nor bacteria pa.s.sage* Field*

I latched onto it and gently nudged it toward the main stream, toward the waterspout. The ultimate weapon-the weapon to make weapons obsolete.

I thought I was being subtle, but I was underestimating Child. There was a clacking of hooves behind me.

"Get out!"

No. You don't understand.

"It's you who doesn't understand!"

He pounced. I stepped quickly aside, struck at him, and sent him flailing over the brink, into the pit*

Far out at sea, the Force Field Theory was shot up the waterspout. Soon it would be spoken in a dark room, taped, transferred to paper, and sent by special messenger to those who might put it into practice.

Sighing, I turned to go. But with a low, animal grumble, the walls of the labyrinth began to sway and the floor to shake and buck.

From somewhere down in the pit, there was a scream, a deafening ululation which spread throughout the caverns, echoing and re-echoing. Clutching the edge of the pit, the Minotaur was pulling himself onto the earthen ledge. I could see that it was not the Minotaur who screamed, but I could not see anyone else.

What is it? I asked above the noise.

His eyes were wild. He opened his mouth, and I watched horrified as snakes came slithering forth.

I kicked him. He fell back into the pit, all the way to the churning bottom this time.

When I turned back to the caverns, the ceiling caved in before me, dirt and stones spilling over my shoes. And there was no longer an exit. I wasn't going to get out!

I turned to the sea and saw the waterspout dying, withering. There was no hope in that direction, either. No hope! And the situation was so ironic, like Jesus finally sealed into his tomb. But I had given up that delusion, hadn't I?

What, for crissakes, is going on? I yelled above the constant screaming from the pit. Then it occurred to me that I might find the nature of the disaster by latching on to a stray thought. I reached out into the turbulent river and found all of them starting the same way: G* G* GGGGGGGGGG* leadingG to Gra.s.s rollinG over the hills* to G* G* GGG G.o.d G.o.d G.o.d like a tornado whirlinG across the Glen, relentless, relentless* GGG GG.o.d GG.o.d* G.o.dG.o.dG.o.d* random* what purpose?* trap Him like the wind to find His purpose, find my purpose* GGGGGGG*

I r

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