Yet this was his only quest. He must. . .TOUCH
it..... Must.

He could not walk; his legs would no longer carry him. With a weak
spasm of his hind and a pathetic flutter of wings, he pushed himself
over the edge and slid, rolled across stones, folding his wings just in
time, to tumble down a steep slope then land, legs folded beneath him
gripping hot stones, perhaps a hundred yards from all his desire.

He welcomed now its death, if only he could move. If only he could go
that distance farther, against the barrage. Of distance. But he was
afraid. Afraid to die. To die! At last he had met the greatest human
fear: the wakened animal, knowing it would live no more.

Oh, it was too much. He steeled the fire in his heart and went on, but
would have screamed if he could. Fifty yards. Forty. It was too
much. Too much. The stones beneath him rasped and hissed, speaking
Death's name. Downward, into the final hole of death, the murderer of
all his passions. It was too much. What kind of God would ask.....
Too much.

His death reached out. He touched the stone.

*

He touched the stone. Slowly the feverish weakness left him, as if a
violent storm fading at the last. The human flesh, the human trial,
had left him. There was only Simin, and he was one.

The Stone, which had appeared to burn white-hot, was cool, and he
experienced a sense of tranquility such as he had never known. He had
done it. The spirit of Shannon was at peace.

His mind was calm, his own. He remained, outstretched foreclaws
touching this new life, where death had been certain. His inner being
was like the quiet surface of a pool. A tiny pebble fell into it, and
as the ripples smoothed outward and the settled stone touched bottom,
he understood.

"It is a strange truth that the path to beauty and meaning often lies
through fear and ugliness." After a time another part of his being
added this. "God may exist; at times I feel him. Yet we must walk
dark paths alone, and endure."

He remained there in silent thought for some time, until at length he
turned and made his way back toward the tunnels, knowing now with
certainty what he must do. His mind possessed new powers, because it
was one with the Unnamable. His armor was many times stronger.

He knew what he must do.

IV

It was irony, perhaps, but also a shrewd tactical maneuver on the part
of Shin il Sung, that brought the Laurian refugees to Hegel