and it's

You've got to just...tell us what it is about that place, and the tale can be rung up again, another way. We only need evidence. At the gate, as it were. Can you deliver?

It's not settled yet, says Ray. It won't be until we get our quotes back. Does she still have them, says I. Not--as it stands (inside this...hole in the ground)--that's it, I continue: what gets me about this place. Just that, it's a sodden hole in the ground.

Where the defeat waits, is it death?

Quite, that is it. Mirror the others, along the way, driving a tractor possessed. This is the escape, and there is the bottom. Riding along, a track--rather, a cut long and sideways, or at least on our right, a definite side.

Get away. I am riding in this? Possessed--tractor? As you say?

Or aren't we all?

"Dicey, this game you're playing. Isn't it? As I said, the quotes are mine unless specified other-wise. I'm the only one simply begins and ends. Not that I am it. But it's told by me. I've caught a few and I'll go further, certainly. I've got parameters. Said, what--did you? You couldn't have! But not now. You're interruptions, betwixt yourselves...really not good. Take them out."

Fools. No longer anything. Two, now it's a lonely one. Looking. Outstretching. Dicing--and it's the saddest...development in my life, anyway. We're not even sure we have to say a name any longer, each has been established, both--is how we're represented, insupportable would be our separation.

"Nice. Very nice indeed."