Perhaps, then, there would be a way out, a way to return
to my own body. They would keep me alive, back there in
AC, feed me through my veins, keep my body processes
functioning, hoping for my return just as I was. If Child
returned to normal, I could go upwards through the now-
blocked conscious mind and return to my own flesh. Free.
With even the smallest minim of such hope, it was better to
maintain my sanity instead of losing it again and being able
to return to my own body as a madman.
And, too, there was the possibility that, with my mind
intact, I could search out this nightmare landscape and
find some chink in the cold stone that kept me from
leaving. I could explore for days on end, having nothing
better to do, and perhaps discover the passage out. I knew
the chances were small. Child’s mental analogue was im-
mense, as big as an entire world. It would require years
and years just to investigate each corner of it. And a mind
destroyed, a mind seeking total refuge from reality, would
hardly leave any breach of its seal against the world, no
matter how small that breach and no matter in what
distant corner it existed.
But I had hope. It was all I had, and it was warmly
nourished.
II
Sane and determined, I set out on foot to know the
place where I now found myself. There was no need to
provision for the journey, no matter what its length, for I
no longer held the needs of flesh. There was no such thing
as hunger, only a vague memory of what thirst had once
been. I couldn’t know pain, nor pleasure—except on an
emotional, mental level. Though the world seemed physi-
cally as tangible as the real one, I moved through it like a
spirit, autonomous. I could have formed food and drink
from the air—as I had formed that sword to fight off the
Minotaur, for I still contained the same level of psychic
energy. But it would have been a charade with but a single
purpose: to make this world less alien and more like the
one I had left. And I had decided that I could only survive
by forgetting that other reality and accepting this one
fully.
There was no need to rest as I walked, for my analogue
body did not tire. I could run, letting the wind whip my
hair, for hours on end, without feeling a sore muscle, the
tugging fingers of gravity.
I came out of the caves onto a ledge no more than two
feet wide that wound out of sight along the side of an
immense gray mountain studded with shrubs and gnarled,
weathered trees whose extensive roots tangled through
the rocks like tentacles. Above, mists obscured the skies,
thick roiling masses of gray clouds that moved fast from
horizon to horizon. Fingers of the fog came down now
and then, slithered along the mountainside, touched the
trees and wrapped my legs so that I could not even see
my feet
I walked upward along the trail, deeper into the
darkness that lingered there. At places, the trail disap-
peared, and I had to climb across to where it started
again. I feared nothing, for I could not be hurt. As long as
Child lived and as long as I was trapped within him, I was
invulnerable.
Days or perhaps weeks later, I had gained the summit
of the great mountain. It was constructed of four pinna-
cles, each as tall as a man, which formed, between them,
a nest large enough to stand in. I nestled there, hunched
over, and looked out across the world that was his tor-
tured mind.
The mists hung all about me and shrouded the path I
had walked up on. It was cold and wet and left glistening
droplets on my skin. I went naked, though, for cold could
not harm me and was not a discomfort. It was merely a
quantity now, much like light or darkness. I accepted it and
watched the dew bead on the hairs on my arms and legs,