He tried to catalogue all his knowledge, and the implications of that knowledge. He held his chin in his hand and closed his eyes. The room had a bed and a single chair, and nothing else. Light came into the room from some hidden source, perhaps from the ceiling itself. On the other, through a curtained alcove, he could see a tiny lavatory. He was sitting on a bed in a small gray room. When it didn't, he looked around, seeking in his surroundings some clue to his identity. He sat up hastily and willed memory to return. He awoke, rubbed his eyes, and waited for further memories to come. What kind of man? Dimly he saw himself, faceless, a beamer gripped tight on one hand, a corpse at his feet. He became an amoeba which contained his essence then a fish marked with his own peculiar individuality then an ape unlike all other apes. He lifted a pseudopod from primordial ooze, and the pseudopod was him. He rose through thick layers of sleep, out of the imaginary beginnings of all things. It was a journey in which he traversed all time. His return to consciousness was a slow and painful process. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except in the case of excerpts by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Victoria, BC Canada with branch offices in the Czech Republic and rights reserved. This edition published by Reading Essentials
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