"Where's the nearest doctor?"
"Town eight miles down the road," the farmer said. He grimaced in pain. He coughed, and blood flecked his lips. He wiped off the blood and stared at it drying across the back of his hand. "I ... think I'm hurt inside." There was barely controlled hysteria in his voice. He coughed again and shuddered. "My wife, she wanted me ... to stay home this morning...." He shut his eyes tightly. "I've got to patch the roof." He opened his eyes and looked pleadingly at Julia. "I've got to patch the roof, don't you understand!"
"I'm driving as fast as I can. Which way do I turn down there?"
"... turn right."
"We'll be to a doctor just as soon as I can get there."
She slowed down and turned onto the concrete slab of the super-highway.
Then she slammed the car to a full stop; she backed up out of the line of traffic, back onto the cross road. She cut the motor.
Julia had felt the bridge in her mind snap shut. Instantly even the most obscure brain compartment was open to her. Fatigue vanished. She was alert; she was able to think with great clarity.
The lightning recovery of herself forced a series of ever widening implications to her attention; in a blinding flash of insight she was (perhaps actually for the first time) aware of the degree to which she could transform society.