My only body consciousness was the heavy thud ... thud ... thud of blood being driven through my veins. I toyed with stopping the thudding, feeling and savoring the pause between those sledge-hammer strokes on my brain—knowing that any one of those pauses lengthened to eternity was death.
Suddenly I shrieked and sat upright. For an instant, my body had completely stopped and I had known it. Only a nameless grasping fear had snatched me back.
My heart beat wildly as I gasped for air. With shaking hands, I poured a drink and gulped it down. It had been close.
Still trembling, I arose and slumped into a chair. I had to organize myself, to think my way along this thing.
What had happened to me?
This one thing I knew: I could do it. I could stop my body at will and I had done it, if only for a second.
This thought reassured me or perhaps the brandy opened my reserve of courage, for I had been sitting in the chair some time.
With caution, I approached the pallet. I regarded it with suspicion, as though there were a deadly scorpion in its folds. Then, jeering at my hesitation, I lay down and composed myself as before. The clock said 5:05. I stirred again only to record this on the pad.
Despite my nervousness, things proceeded faster this time. A morbid excitement carried me along the path I now already knew. And at its end, I flirted with the stopping. Going over and stepping back, going over and stepping back.