Those were troubled times. Left on his own, he often went for a walk and thought of those days, unable to say how long ago they had been; they were just some time in the past, that was all. Now there were even more puddles, and they were even noisier (that is, deeper), his steps were slow and measured, and he was careful not to wander too far from the green eye. He made the same movements as before — pushing, pulling, and turning buttons, handles, and switches, with simple movements of his hands or arms — but now he was alone. One day the last chain on which they had hung like bell-ringers disappeared, and however much he fought against it, his companion went up and out with the chain, dragged by a mysterious, implacable force. He clung to the other man’s body, trying with all his strength to keep it and the chain from vanishing, but it was no use. He felt himself rising with them, but he was destined to remain behind in the darkness, alone in front of a control panel with countless buttons, levers, switches, and valves, facing the mocking look of the green eye that rarely, very rarely, also showed a glint of pity. He felt dragged upward and would not have let go if his head hadn’t struck one of the burning-hot tubes. The blow — for someone or something had shaken the chain at that moment — sent him crashing to the ground, where he lay dazed, almost unconscious, for a long time. When he came around, all the chains and huge wheels as on a ship had disappeared; all that remained was the one controlling the well, which he turned in vain, sometimes vaguely hoping that the chain he could hear strike the concrete walls would bring his companion back. Everything else had been replaced with the superb panel and the dozens of buttons, switches, and levers that could easily be controlled with simple repetitive gestures — and, behind them, the green eye.