And I, Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, traveled west.

I came across a ghost town. There was nothing but metal and brains. The brains were live, they sat in jars, and were all interconnected with wires. Brains along a network of wires, dreaming brains, a world of brains. Each brain was connected with all the others, a world population in wire-connected brains. And suddenly a pack of dogs came, overturned all the jars, and ate the live brains. It was a great slaughter, and so easy.

Ash-painted faces, bare feet, naked bodies. The dancers move and jerk spasmodically, wild, crazy. Fire at their center, fire sending shadows up the cave walls in reaching fingers. Drums, drums, chimes and drums. For Kali: the fire is Kali: for worship of Kali: the dance is for Kali. One wise man sits in a corner, watching. Only he understands the chaos that will spread itself across the earth with that fire.

Fire fire, earthen ash, hear the symbols crash, crash; hear the thunder, cut the gash . . . flesh and metal clash, clash, clash.

Hurry up. Let's go.

Just let me put on my eyeliner.

(Walking into the bathroom.) You look beautiful.

Thanks.

(He takes the eyeliner.)

What are you doing?

Dare me?

No. Don't. We're about to leave.

(Lining his eyes.) I wonder why men never wear this stuff.

Stop fooling around. What are you drawing?

(Drawing designs on his face.) It'll make me the talk of the office.

It's my office and I don't want to be the talk of it.

(Putting down the eyeliner.) Done.

You look bizarre. Wash it off.

I'm going like this.

You're crazy.

Get your coat.

We're not going.

What?