<strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Interior of the Augustus Chambers Elevator</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape Merrin Police Department</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape</span></strong><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> Merrin</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">As the old fashioned floor indicator notched its needle into the ornate “4,” the power inside the elevator flickered out, leaving Alice in the dark. She was assaulted by a furious avalanche of fragmentary and broken sensory impressions that cascaded down from the center of the elevator’s roof. Her own physical presence was reflected back at her in the mirrored interior as the images crashed into her mind accompanied by a blue light also emanating from the center of the ceiling in the elevator car. </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . a man in a red robe . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . a sense of darkness, dampness . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . cool, subterranean rock that was somehow oddly simultaneously aquatic . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . a blade that undulated with curves gleaming in the darkness . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . a flurry of downward strokes from the blade, connecting with something soft—the motion happening again and again and again and again . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . a croaking voice . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">. . . the shattered cries of children . . .</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Then suddenly with the abruptness with which it had fled, the power came back on. The images and the blue light retreated. The elevator chimed the arrival of the car at the fourth floor in an inappropriately cheery tone, and the doors withdrew backward, opening the interior to the light of the mostly silent homicide division of the Cape Merrin Police Department.</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span>