Come the evening they were up and about again, hand in hand, nearing ever closer to the end of the year. The heat of the day had passed and the remains of his discomfort were seeping out of Louis and into the ground beneath his feet. At one stage he saw some strange metal creatures start coming to life, and he watched them a while, comfortable for once in the crowd. An impassive silver head of a woman atop a shiny silver torso caught his eye. Ominous looking long metal legs, like that of an enormous spider, shot out from her body. Fenced in, the moving metal limbs were soon mangling the remains of the year, accompanied by shooting flames, drumbeats and cheers. Otherwise, Louis said, the evening was more or less a blur, with chit chat and smiles and then the return of a devilish drowsiness that sent him scurrying back again to the tent, still a while before midnight, and this time with the welcome presence of his wife. The next morning, Susie said goodbye to those she'd met over the last few days while Louis set about packing up camp. He was baffled by her ability to acquire so much camping equipment so quickly but was grateful at least that he was taking down the tent and not putting it up. He thought back to London and the day he decided to leave for Australia. He had toyed with the idea through many a drizzly afternoon while working on his translations but it was only upon waking one morning with a vivid dream that he went as far as booking a ticket. In the dream, he saw great hulks of ships in gray heaving waters, docked side by side and enjoined by what appeared to be enormous shoelaces. Each vessel was populated by peasants as well as the plentiful others let down by lousy lawyers and corrupt cops bulging with cream. Countless legs were ringed with heavy iron anklets, in turn attached to great rusty chains. Not long after being led up the gangplank, he was restrained from behind and slammed to the floor. Lovely, lovely, someone said, what special pearl do we have here now? Legs and arms held him down and his hair was roughly cut from his head, leaving scratches that were soon sweating blood. Next the clothes were cut from him and he felt as if they were gutting some poor dinner plate destined beast. He was shoved into a sack with parts of words enjoined to others in the stitching, beyond his comprehension, as if he were not only near naked and shorn but also obliged to learn how to read all over again. Following the irregular rhythm of the slapping water below seemed at one point to be his only salvage, until a new strength seeped into him and he suddenly became determined to escape, however necessary, and kill whoever deemed it worthy to stand in his way.
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