Far, far below, a man and a woman make love. The woman sits on top, does all the work, while the man merely squirms and moans, as if he were a goldfish having a horrible nightmare.
Remembering nothing but the vaguest sense of identity, not even sure it is his own, Hawley does not recognize this couple, this coupling. He is not the least bit concerned with them. He wants only to explore this endless misty world in which he finds himself, wants only to drift carelessly forever in this gracious gray void. Still, he feels himself carried towards them. The irresistible tidal current which flows through this ocean of mist is gradually drawing him down beside the bed. As his feet come to rest upon the floor of the tint room, he sees, beyond the lovers, a crack of clear white light, as if a door has just opened in the mist. The door swings wide and Hawley sees the silhouette of a human figure standing upon the other side.
The figure calls out, in that totally anonymous voice reserved for messengers and stage managers, "Five minutes, Mr. Hawley, and you're on," then disappears.Not knowing what else to do, Hawley follows the figure through the door, passing through the two lovers as if they were no more substantial than his concern for them. Beyond the doorway, the mist comes to an abrupt end and Hawley finds himself in a clear, brightly lit hallway. At the far end of the hallway is another open door, and, coming from it, the sound of children laughing, hysterically. He follows the sound to the door and finds himself -- in a large recording studio, where some sort of program is being filmed by camera operators who wear masks and scarlet robes.
"Hi, boys and girls!" calls a richly dressed figure from the center of the stage. "Today, our special guest is Conrad Hawley, an Architect of Dreams!"Hawley recognizes the voice as the one that called him before. The speaker is a hermaphrodite, wearing a codpiece and jewel-encrusted breastplates beneath a translucent gown.
Behind the hermaphrodite is the set of what is apparently a television program. In the center of the backdrop is a giant logo reading, "Little Luther's Playhouse!"
Hawley walks onto the stage, his movements followed by the cameras. He hears wild, ecstatic applause. It must be a recording, because the only audience in the studio is a group of three terrified small boys huddled together in a corner. Hawley sees that in the very center of the set is a small, open coffin, bearing the corpse of a young boy. He is about the age of the three cowering children and wearing what might be a little girl's first communion dress or perhaps the tasteless mockery of a wedding gown.
The hermaphrodite approaches Hawley, and, taking him by the hand, leads him to the coffin.
"Come!" It says, "let us met our good host! SHe is playing a little game and wants to know if you'd like to play too? It's the final scene of 'Sleeping Beauty.' Our host is the Sleeping Princess -- isn't SHe beautiful? -- and you are the Prince. Awaken the Princess, Conrad Hawley; awaken HIr with your kiss. If you awaken HIr, then all of this will be yours!"With Its final words, the hermaphrodite waves majestically and the backdrop of the set instantly vanishes. Hawley sees in its place a beautiful city upon the far side of a great river. A dense forest surrounds the city on all sides. The buildings of the city seem to be made of delicately-spun glass. Everywhere about the city are silver and gold, gleaming brightly, and a sprinkling of precious jewels, like fine women. The sight lulls Hawley into a peaceful reverie, only to be interrupted by the voice of the Hermaphrodite repeating sharply, "Come now, Hawley, kiss the Sleeping Princess and awaken HIr."
Startled, confused, and filled with the desire for the city, Hawley does not stop to consider the perverse circumstances. He leans over, purses his lips in the shape of a kiss, and presses them against the still face of the boy. Instantly the face collapses into a mass of putrid, rotten flesh. Hawley is overcome with the foul taste and the stench of decay. He slumps weakly to the floor, dazed and nauseated. All around him, he hears the tumultuous laughter of an invisible audience.
The hermaphrodite approaches, applauding politely. He says with a chuckle, "That's quite all right, Mr. Hawley, quite all right. We can't all be winners now can we? Anyway, boys and girls, it's time for a cartoon!"Instantly, right in front of Hawley, three grotesque human-sized caricatures appear -- a Mole wearing a blood-stained laboratory smock and a Duck in a gaudy general's uniform stand on either side of a filthy giant-sized Rat. Somewhere in the distance, an orchestra begins a raucous dance number. The animals begin to dance, almost in time. And then they being to sing:
"Bringer of Life, accept your death,
Take our thanks as we take your breath."The Mole steps forward, drawing her hands together as if paying homage to a scientific god, and passionately sings:
"Fill us with your precious blood,
Drown us in the scarlet flood.
You'll see us growing straight and tall,
When in a withered heap you fall."She returns to her place in the group and they all sing the first two lines again as a sort of chorus. Then the Duck steps forward, medals jingling, striking a ludicrous military pose, and in an affected continental accent, sings:
"We are the apples of your eye,
You gave us life in one great try.
We hope you won't commit the crime
Of trying to live beyond your time."Then they sing the chorus again and the Rat steps up close enough to wilt Hawley with his unbelievably foul breath, all the while staring at him as if he were the well-deserved piece of cheese that will reward him at the completion of a long and difficult maze, and sings:
"There's nothing you can do or say
To change your fate in any way.
So climb inside and take your place
Beside the boy without a face."The Rat finishes his verse with a chilling leer so terrifying to behold that Hawley springs up, running blindly towards the backdrop where his vision of the bejeweled city had been. It shatters like glass and then he is tumbling into darkness. A misty gray void surrounds him. He feels cool, damp earth rolling beneath him. He forces himself to a stop, rises, and opens his eyes.
He has landed beside the river. But is darker now than it was before, the city's brightly gleaming towers fading to darkness with the fall of twilight. In the darkness, from the far side of the river, a radiant presence shines, piercing the night, and his heart; it is a bright young girl, calling to him, "Go back, grandpa, go back, don't try to cross the river, go back...." And then he knows if he can only cross the river he will be safe from all these nightmare creatures.
He wades into the river, far enough to be pushed off-balance by the current. He begins to swim. Halfway across, he feels something clutch his leg. He is suddenly dragged under. That damned hermaphrodite is holding him down. It seems perfectly at home here and even seems to be breathing easily. Soon Hawley has held his own breath so long he thinks he'll burst. Seeming to sense this, and, in a cruel parody of rescue, the hermaphrodite rises slowly to Hawley's face and kisses him.
Hawley struggles madly in the arms of the hermaphrodite, freeing himself suddenly, violently from Its embrace. But rather than rising to the surface, Hawley falls against something hard with a shocking thump. He shakes himself to his senses and partly rises on one elbow.