The ones who were next woke us roughly, and while they made themselves comfortable in our place we squatted at the edge of the sewer and nervously checked the pressure in our cylinders. The oxygen wouldn't last more than a few hours, that much was clear. The grim prospect of becoming benignimized seemed inevitable. Gloom descended upon us. Knowing that I had already had a taste of that state of bliss, my companions anxiously inquired how it felt. I assured them that it wasn't so bad really, but I spoke without conviction. Sleep overpowered us; to keep from falling into the sewer we tied ourselves, with whatever we could, to the iron rungs beneath the manhole. Dozing fitfully, I was awakened by the sound of an explosion far more powerful than anything yet; I looked around in the darkness-all the flashlights but one had been turned off, to conserve the batteries. Enormous sleek rats trotted by along the edge of the sewer. The odd thing was that they were walking single file, and on their hind legs. I pinched myself, but no, it wasn't a dream. I woke Professor Trottelreiner and showed him this phenomenon; he didn't know what to make of it. The rats were now walking in pairs, completely ignoring our presence; at least they weren't attempting to lick us, which the Professor considered a good sign, since it indicated that in all probability the air was clean. Cautiously we removed our masks. Both journalists on my right were sleeping soundly while the rats continued to promenade on two legs, but then the Professor and I sneezed, something was tickling our nostrils-the sewer stench, I thought at first, until I noticed the roots. I bent over to look at my feet. There was no mistake, I was sending out roots all right-from the knees down, more or less-and turning green above. And now my arms were sprouting buds, which opened quickly, unfolding before my very eyes. It's true the leaves were rather pale, but that is usually the case with plants grown underground.