“There was no answer. I looked up.
Epsilon’s light shone out onto a picture on the wall.
A round picture in a square frame.
The golden symbol of O. The One. The symbol of perfection.
The symbol of eternity. The One without beginning or end.
The One who is the beginning and the end.
The One to whom time is meaningless. The One who could do whatever he wanted with time. What had Mrs. Shiling said, in the kitchen, a year ago?
“Time is nothing. Not to him. A moment in time. What is that t him?”
Quivering from head to toe, I stared up at that simple O.”