They passed through Sack Town as if in a dream – he'd been trained to use their power: he knew about dreams. The abandoned alleyways buzzed with unusual life. The ancient, determined women, shrunken beneath 6 feet, finally, in their last century; kids, flitting around distractedly, excitedly, negotiating animatedly for permission to bring more than was strictly required. – They were loading carts, they were loading each other, like pack horses. He was the only man. The only – one of his kind left. It was only now that he began to comprehend even the edges of what had actually happened to them. Genocide. Every Cyclops in Old Works. All the weight.

Brey-BreLoak [cL^YoP***] – his partner in seeing Pheel's office – orifice – that great old noble Sly he'd always so admired. Like a hero to him, even half like a father.

Phinz-Twoan – but no! Not true – he was with Massimo; with a flood of relief – he wasn't the only one left, whatever, and the – whatever the role Phinz-Twoan operated in Massimo's... the reality of who/what[?] he was.

Tarr-Saik – no, he was – before – but the same –

Puaz-Byt.

Soan-Dighf – his – who'd even –

Everybody; too many names, everybody, all gone. No. – What was worse was that they weren't gone at all. That in fact they were still – here. Even. On this planet.

– He'd been in the Doom Chamber, too,

he'd seen it all transpire as much as – as much as his brothers. They weren't gone at all. They were still here, he thought. Their bodies - if not their souls – replaced by the fake-souls that operated the – maybe even their talents remained. He thought they'd find out.

They passed through the cobbled alleyways, beneath the leaning over habitations of Sack Town. The only man; left. – He felt that way. He felt that way because it was true. There was an entire new generation coming through, of course, but they weren't – not by the time Tenns was done with them, they wouldn't be like him. Trained, against his own nature, trained in illusion – trained to impose fakery in a world already exhausted, ruined by it.

But he only saw old ladies and children, “But where are the young... women?”

“Don't let this particular demographic scenario encourage thoughts in your head, okay, Pry, over there, Pry, you, I see you – I can read your thoughts.”

“Completely an innocent question. – I'm not even falling for that, actually – where are they?”

“– The women fit enough? Not for you to fuck mind.” She eyed him very deliberately. “They're either exploding the entryways, or their down – already below, preparing. – Getting it ready for habitation – unlike it has been in, crazy huge numbers, half a million years – I always say that but it is.”

“Don't let the demographic scenario go to your head,” he repeated and laughed at her, running his hand over his freshly clipped – head.

Even this; her eyes flashed: Don't.

From her eyes too in interstices he caught a half-glimpse of himself in the reflective pane of a window. Technically even smaller, bald, bearded – though without the crazy extraneous stuff on the sides – the wild hairs anyway, and at this point his neck, he felt – technically a tiny bit smaller – minus that hair but – he felt larger. Much larger.

And sad as it technically was in this moment he realised he was no longer small for his kind. In fact he was the biggest Cyclops in Sack Town. Hortag. But for – Phinz. – There'd be a few girls bigger than him but – maybe the biggest underground. The biggest beside. Phinz, but... and those various... Dukes, in the demonic kingdom.

He had one Eye in his head. Then out.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Down.”