They would be wrong. For Rebecca, the poor thing, the definition of a moment, of an instance, mattered so much. As her head slammed at near terminal v...locity into the grey walkway, as her skull flattened, snapped, crushed to dust and brain began to pulp, there was a single moment, a single unit of Planck time, in which every surviving neuron up until that point worked dilligently, desperately, to communicate to Rebecca, to form the thought in her mind “I’m dying. My head is exploding like a. She looked at Martha, smiled and told her to wait, and with a small wave walked away.Martha heard footsteps, almost military in their regularity, and a small nun approached, maybe sixty Martha guessed."I am sister Grace, you I presume are Martha" Yes Sister" Then come with me." Martha followed along long cold corridors with plain stone walls and worn stone floors, and up narrow stone staircases until they arrived in a long room. a long partition ran the length of the room seeming to divide a. More

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