The loneliness was in his belly, aching like a tumor.
"... read me?" Control's voice in his earphones.
"Loud and clear," he said absently.
"... minus two minutes ... mark!" A different voice. So many different voices. They knew him, they talked to him. But he was alone with his bitch.
I had a true wife but—
"... minus one minute ... mark!"
This is my day I had a true wife—
"... three ... two ... one ... mark!"
There was the sound of a world dying in his mind, the sound of thunder, the sound of a sun splitting, the sound of a goddess giving birth, with pain with agony in loneliness.
A giant's fist came from out of nothingness and smashed into his body. His chest was compressed, his face was flattened, he could not get enough air to breathe. The heavy sledge of acceleration crushed him back into the padded chair, inexorable, implacable, relentless, heavy. His vision clouded in red and he thought he would die. Instead, he spoke into the lip mike, resenting it bitterly.