Apparently I am no longer a phagocyte which quietly, in a businesslike way devours microbes (microbes with freckled faces and blue temples); apparently I am myself a microbe, and she too, I-330 , is a microbe, a wonderful, diabolic microbe! It is quite possible that there are already thousands of such microbes among us, still pretending to be phagocytes, as I pretend. What if today’s accident, although in itself not important, is only a beginning, only the first meteorite of a shower of burning and thundering stones which the infinite may have poured out upon our glass paradise?