He looked about him, peering into the darkness that would show him nothing. And suddenly he remembered that which he had seen in his inner being. The dark rebel, falling, falling, striking. The cataclysm that followed, the white light of explosion, the pell-mell exchange of suns. The rearrangement of desire. And in full measure the meaning of that astounding event came. The thought hummed, swelled, until he was flinging it out beyond him in mocking wave after wave, into the face of that universe that had mocked him with its dead answers. In this last moment of expansion the pain and formless searching of his years vanished in the ultimate triumph. He had had choice between two events, being and not-being. And as all thoughts that had ever been and were a part of him raced through his mind in that final moment, he caught one infinitesimal thought, one he had spawned in a long gone eternity. "<i>To be or not to be--that is the question....</i>" And he knew the answer. The age-old answer he had long sought. It was a matter of choice. And he was content to die now, having chosen....