Still juggling the balls, oranges, bottles and chair, the legless man threw himself into the air and joined the circle of whirling objects. The Governor left, went through the passageway again to the quadrangle and looked over the railing. The fountain was gone. Goats nibbled at young trees growing through the obscured tiles. A man rode a pony listlessly and disappeared out of sight. A yellow wildcat prowled around, pausing to hiss menacingly at the goats. Lampley walked past closed doors, found himself in front of the elevator. He hadn't seen it—then it was there.
"Down," announced the clerk.
"I don't want ..." began Lampley doubtfully.
"Going down," repeated the clerk firmly. "There's no up from here."
"How do all these people live?" asked the Governor. "The soldiers, the women, the schoolmaster, the juggler?"
The clerk shrugged. "No differently than anyone else. Osmosis. Symbiosis. Ventriloquism. Saprophytism. Necrophilism. The usual ways."
"Imagination? Illusion? Hallucination? Mirage?"
"We are what we are," said the clerk. "Can you say as much? Going down."
"I want to know," persisted Lampley.