"No one ever needed anything worse," Marc said emphatically.
Toffee glanced curiously about her. "This place is a mess," she commented. "Is your whole world as shabby as this?"
Marc shook his head, explained briefly about the explosion.
"I don't understand about human beings," Toffee said. "The minute they get their hands on anything they have to start changing it so that it serves a purpose exactly opposite what it was intended for. What goes up must come down, what goes down must come up. You're all perfectly mad, all of you. Are you happy that you've managed to make heavy things light?"
"What?" Marc asked absently.
"I asked you if you were happy now that you've managed to make all that stuff behave contrary to its nature, rather indecently I might add."
"What are you talking about?" Marc asked.
"All that stuff floating around on the ceiling," Toffee said. She pointed.
Marc whirled about to gaze in the direction she indicated. Then he sucked in his breath with a sharp gasp. Toffee had spoken the truth. Slowly, the rubble was rising from the floor of the basement to the ceiling. Some of it had already described the full journey and was hovering about the ceiling. Chairs, pieces of desk, desk drawers, fragments of equipment, scraps of metal were bobbing about next to the ceiling like apples in a washtub on Hallowe'en. Marc suddenly felt very lightheaded. In a matter of minutes the world had become an unfamiliar place; reality quickly slipped away from him and he was caught for a moment in a spell of moon-splashed madness.
"My God!" he whispered. "I did it!"