“We stand far above them, Hucka Doobie, unable to listen in. Is Heidi Hunt Ives even alive still? Another victim of clubbing?”
“We cannot say at this point. You know synchronicity is strong here. This is a spiral (again). This is a veil to be opened not fast but slowly. Red curtains hide much. To open too fast is to cause insanity. Or worse: sanity. Walk the line, walk the rope. Spin the spiral.”
Hucka Doobie relents. “Oh all right, HHI is dead. He clubbed her with his club before moving to the center. Happy?”
“But-” I protested, thinking of the matter further. “She’s not a character in a story. She’s *really* dead, then.” Baker Bloch begins to worry about his sanity.
Hucka Doobie relents again. “Good. You have past the clubbing test. Most men would have believed me.”
“I *do* believe you.”
They stared across the table at each other, realizing they were in the center all along.
Baker starts counting his fingers.
Casey One Hole, no longer actor Tom Casey atall, moves over to the *real* center in Danshire. Waiting in his rocking chair in his Small Kowloon House for people all around to start interacting with him and him alone. Shouldn’t be long.
Poor Heidi Hunt Ives. But like Norris, like Herbert Gold, heck like anyone deceased in these here photo-novels, she could return.