Titans of Chaos

And closer, much closer, I saw a flotilla of longboats, manned (if that is the term) by black-suitedAmazons, cutting through the channel of a dream-canal. Each boat carried a complement ofmaenads and nymphs, while above and below, to the blue and to the red, cycles within cycles ofsirens spun, deadly energy filling hyperspace for many yards in each direction.

And, only inches away...

"Oh my God! We are only about six inches away from Los Angeles! There is about to be anirruption from dream-space, and if we get caught in it... Vanity! Go that way! Tell the ship to gothat way!"

Vanity, from beneath the bench, called out in misery, "I cannot see where your hand is. Your armturns red and vanishes. I cannot push through this lava anyway! The ship is dying! She can'tmove!"

My upper senses told me that this place, this lake of tumult, was on the borderland, stuck halfwayin the uncertainty between two dimensions. The storm here was caused by the breakdown of thelocal laws of nature, as confused bits and atoms of matter turned this way and that, not knowingwhich set of laws to obey. We were on the cusp, on the storm front, of some powerful effectissuing from the dream-realm, trying to render nature dreamlike and fluid, and an equallypowerful effect coming from Earth, trying to restore the Earthly laws of nature: nice things likeinertia, persistence of object, measurable time, linear cause-and-effect, atomic and elementalstructures.

It was shining, shining. Useful to us? Or useful to someone trapping us? I started trying to tracethe lines of cause-effect and time-purpose backwards___

Mud had stained Quentin's robes, and hail and acid droplets had raised small welts on his headand hands. He spoke, and his voice vanished in the storm-roar, but his quiet voice appearedbehind my ears, quiet but cross: "The mission! Remember the mission! Examine Victor and see ifyou can make repairs!"

Enough sightseeing. I turned to Victor.