The very Citadel shook with the violence of their passage, and the earth resounded and air quivered from the nightmarish sound of their thunderous babbling and mindless laughter. My skull throbbed in pain, unable to contain the nameless torments both visual and audible yet I wanted nothing more to take in every last bit, to see and to know and to titter terribly in discordant unison with the true lords of all creation. Knees buckling, I almost fell on my face in adoration to the Elder Machines, even as they reared so grotesquely above my lofty perch on the apex of that cyclopean monolith. Yet there remained a portion of my mind frantically clear in thought, desperately aware of the lunacy replacing sanity and struggling to maintain some semblance of rational thought. As if it were a separate part of me, it viewed the proceedings frenetically casting about for a way to turn back the inevitable.
The answer came to me even in my awestruck, terrified, and bewildered state. I had forgotten my own revelation to M. Arterius! Knowledge was the key. Through my own well-meaning study and diligent translation of the book bequeathed to Miss Zorah by her father, I had unwittingly taken the role of the Elder Machines’ high priest and summoner. By my own life and comprehension, I gave them access to the world, dooming mankind with each breath I continued to take. So, too, did I understand my only resort, and knowing myself to be at least the equal in determination to poor Arterius, I steeled myself for what must be done. Enjoining my comrades once more to keep their eyes averted, I glanced back one last time, hoping to fill my eyes with the sight of Miss Zorah before I did was what necessary. The familiar shape of her veiled head provided the last measure of resolve I needed.