Soft come the dragons

stream he did not want me to see. It was easy for him because I never expected it. No one else could ever do it, and it was a new sensation. Rest assured that it will not happen again."
    Damn them all! I had to go in now, to save my Melinda.
    "You're sure?"
    "I'm certain. But some steps must be taken before I can go in again. He must be told that I refuse to continue the experiment, and that you must continue without me. After he is drugged, I'll go in and delve into him secretly. He won't even know I'm there."
    A black, bloated body (Melinda) floating . . .
    Damn them to Hell!
    "Are you sure, Sim?" I thought Harry sounded as if he wanted me to quit. But now that I knew the world and my Melinda teetered on the brink of a chasm much darker than Child's mind (as I then understood it), I realized the only person who could develop the ultimate weapon (the weapon that would make war obsolete) was Child. He could invent the weapon that would nullify all weapons. I had to go in until he formulated it—possibly urge him into formulating it.
    The world was heavy on my shoulders, and Death was walking with me . . .
     
     

VIII 
    Like a cat with cotton feet, I went quietly . . .
    Like a ghost in an old house, I went without form . . .
    Like the breezes of spring, I walked softly . . .
    There was no echo of my steps, and the labyrinth was warmer than usual. I rounded a bend and saw the Minotaur. He was sitting on his haunches, unaware of my presence. He was reading a leather-bound Bible.
    Slowly, to disturb nothing, I passed. He never looked up.
    Pasiphae, here is your unholy child.
    Minos, your labyrinth is ugly.
    Theseus, keep your weapons girdled to your hip, for there will be no killing of a sad Minotaur.
    The pit was a tangerine orange, pulsating warmth flowing out of it. The center was a white hot dot.
    I reached out and grabbed the nearest thought. A weapon. Nothing that could serve my purpose, not the ultimate weapon that would make war impossible.
    A formula to cause ratlike mutations in unborn babies
    A beam that could dehydrate living tissue . . .
    Many of the G association thoughts, several different progressions that led toward one distant point . . .
    . . . An inordinately large number of them.
    Then I found it. A stray thought. An ultimate weapon.
    F . . . Field . . . Force Field capable of stopping all entry by anything, including air, permitting neither bombs nor bacteria passage . . . Field . . .
    I latched onto it and gently nudged it toward the main stream, toward the waterspout. The ultimate weapon—the weapon to make weapons obsolete.
    I thought I was being subtle, but I was underestimating Child.
    There was a clacking of hooves behind me.
    "Get out!"
    No. You don't understand.
    " You don't understand!"
    He pounced. I stepped quickly aside, struck at him, and sent him falling over the brink into the pit . . .
    Far out at sea, the Force Field Theory was being shot up the waterspout. Soon, it would be spoken in a dark room.
    Sighing, I turned to go. But, with a low, animal grumble, the walls of the labyrinth began to sway, the floor shook, bucked.
    From somewhere down in the pit, there was a scream, a deafening scream that spread throughout the caverns, echoing and reechoing. Clutching the edge of the pit, the Minotaur was pulling himself onto the earthen ledge. I could see it was not he screaming.
    "What is it!" I yelled above the noise.
    His eyes were wild. He opened his mouth, and I watched horrified as snakes came slithering out.
    I kicked him. He fell back into the pit, all the way to the churning bottom this time.
    When I turned back to the caverns, the ceiling caved-in in front of me. Dirt and stones spilled over my shoes. And there was no longer an exit. I wasn't going to get out! I turned to the sea, and I saw the waterspout dying, withering. There was no hope in that direction either. No hope! And the situation was so ironic; like Jesus finally sealed in his tomb. But I had given up that delusion!
    "What for crissakes is going on?" I yelled above the constant screaming from the pit. Then I thought of catching a stray thought. I reached out into the turbulent river, and I found them all starting the same way:
    G ... G ... GGGGGGGGG . . . leadinG to Grass roll-inG over the hills . . . to G ... G ... GGG God God God like a tornado whirlinG across the Glen, relentlessly . . . GGG GGod GGODGODGOD . . . randomly what purpose . . . trap him like the wind to find a purpose . . . GGG . . .
    I realized