So I undressed myself of the tanks which I had worn for the pastseveral hours, crossed my flippers on the table, and leaned back to watchthe hurricane. The top was black as the bottom and we were in between, andsomewhat illuminated because of all that flat, shiny space. The watersdidn't rain down--they just sort of got together and dropped.

The Rooks were secure enough--they'd weathered any number of theseonslaughts--it's just that their positions gave them a greater arc of riseand descent when Tensquare makes like the rocker of a very nervous grandma.I had used the belts form my rig to strap myself into the bolted-down chair,and I removed several years in purgatory from the soul of whoever left apack of cigarettes in the table drawer.

I watched the water make teepees and mountains and hands and treesuntil I started seeing faces and people. So I called Mike.

"What are you doing down there?"

"Wondering what you're doing up there," he replied. "What's it like?"

"You're from the Midwest, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Get bad storms out there?"

"Sometimes."

"Try to think of the worst one you were ever in. Got a slide rulehandy?"

"Right here."

"Then put a one under it, imagine a zero or two following after, andmultiply the thing out."

"I can't imagine the zeros."

"Then retain the multiplicand--that's all you can do."

"So what are you doing up there?"

"I've strapped myself in the chair. I'm watching things roll around thefloor right now."

I looked up and out again. I saw one darker shadow in the forest.

"Are you praying or swearing?"

"Damned if I know. But if this were the Slider--if only this were theSlider!"

"_He's out there?_"

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see me.

Big, as I remembered him. He'd only broken surface for a few moments,