The phone rings and rings but no one answers.
Maxwell’s jaw is clenched in agony. He shivers on The Ganga’s carpet beside me.
“I think she took them to the Moon,” I tell The Ganga in my head, glad Maxwell can’t hear.
“Why the Moon?” The Ganga asks.
“Images,” I tell her. “Vaar’s hands. Powdery dust at the bottom of a crater.”
“I hope they’re on the Moon,” she says. “There’s no place to hide up there.”
“I saw machines on the ground,” I tell her. “Some of them looked like UFO’s.”
The granite hall goes black. Stars appear and the Earth shrinks to a ball below us. Above, the moon streaks from left to right, stops, and then comes closer.
“Is that all I am to you?” The Ganga asks. “An unidentified flying object?”
“No, no. I’m…
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