All right, I know a patch of floor can't move around.Just take my word for it, this one did.
The record was ending but Wayne was still in controlenough to have another one spinning. He faded it up, abit of an oldie that they'd all know.
'Is it still there?' he said, staring down at the desk.
'It's a bit closer,' I said. 'Perhaps it's after a spot prize.'
... I wanna live forever ...
'That's right, be a great help.'
... people will see me and cry ...
There were quite a few more people down there now,but the empty patch was still moving around, all right,was being avoided, among the dancers.
I went and stood in it.
It was cold. It said: GOOD EVENING.
The voice came from all around me, and everythingseemed to slow down. The dancers were just statues in akind of black fog, the music a low rumble.
'Where are you?'
BEHIND YOU.
Now, at a time like this the impulse is to turn around,but you'd be amazed at how good I was at resisting it.
'You've been frightening my friend,' I said.
I DID NOT INTEND TO.
'Push off.'
THAT DOESN'T WORK, I AM AFRAID.
I did turn around then. He was about seven feet tall inhis, yes, his platform soles. And, yes, he wore flares, butsomehow you'd expect that. Wayne had said they wereblack but that wasn't true. They weren't any colour at all,they were simply clothes-shaped holes into SomewhereElse. Black would have looked blinding white by comparison.He did look a bit like John Travolta from thewaist down, but only if you buried John Travolta forabout three months.
It really was a skull mask. You could see the sting.
'Come here often, do you?'