If only I could reach the radio-room soon⁠ ⁠… winglike helmets, the odor of blue lightnings⁠ ⁠… I remember telling her something in a low voice and I remember how she looked through me and how her voice seemed to come from a distance:

“I am busy. I am receiving a message from below. You may dictate yours to her.”

The small, boxlike little cabin.⁠ ⁠… I thought for a second and then dictated in a firm voice:

“Time 14:40. Going down. Motors stopped. The end of all.”

The commander’s bridge. The machine-heart of the Integral stopped; we were falling; my heart could not catch up and would remain behind and rise higher and higher into my throat.⁠ ⁠… Clouds.⁠ ⁠… And then a distant green spot⁠—everything green, more and more distinct, running like a storm towards us. “Soon the end.”