Reporters? Video men? Yes, there had been quite a crowd. Harker stirred gently in the cradling mass of fog that held him. He had never been so comfortable in his life as now, lying in what seemed to be free fall, no weight on him, no conflicts clashing in his tired brain, nothing to do but relax and dream of yesterday. There's Vogel, he thought. The surgeon wielding his tools. Complex dark many-tendriled machine loomed up over me. Yes. Vogel is whispering something to someone now; I can't quite catch it. They lower something over my face. Sweet, too sweet; I breathe deeply. I sleep. Time passes. Harker floated gently, guiding himself with his arms, travelling lightly down a river of radiant brightness. No weight. No sensations. Only the endless lovely bath of color, and the distant rumble of thunder. This is heaven, he thought pleasantly. Not a bad place at all. Timeless, voiceless, airless, lifeless. A kaleidoscope of blues and violets overhead. I am pure energy, he thought, unfettered by the ties of flesh. This is the kingdom of death. There was the odor of lilies somewhere, a cool sweet white smell. I, James Harker, being of sound mind-- A golden flame, child-sized, soared near him in the nothingness. It's Eva, he thought. Hello, Eva. Don't you remember your dad? The golden flame swooped laughingly past him and was gone. Harker felt a momentary pang, but it too passed on; this was heaven, where there was no sadness. The rumble of thunder grew louder. (_Voices?_) (_Here?_ Harker thought.) I have given myself voluntarily into the hands of death, he announced silently. Of my own free will did I consent to have the sanctity of my body violated and the free passage of air through my nostrils interfered with. And with the stoppage of the heart came death. Frowning, he tried to remember more. Recollection grew dim, though, as if he were glimpsing the world he had left behind through a series of warped mirrors. He could see faintly into the world of living people, but the surface was oddly glazed, unreal. Again came thunder, louder, closer. Someone said, "I think he's waking up." Harker remained perfectly still, struggling to penetrate the meaning of those words. _I think he's waking up._ Waking up? From death? "He's definitely coming out of it." Yes, Harker thought, I'm waking up. Returning to the blurred world I left behind so long ago. He was still bound to that world. It would not release its grip on him. It wanted him, was calling him. Recalled to life! With a sudden convulsive moan and whimper, Harker woke. * * * * *