I WAS NEARING THE TOP—ALTHOUGH still a good fifty feet away—when there was a sound, a series of sounds, actually, thunk—thunk—thunk, like a ham bouncing down metal stairs, and something sprinkled my face. That’s when I realized that what had fallen (and bounced off the beams) was in fact a human head. By then, of course, it was gone, and I was continuing my ascent: trying not to acknowledge how the city had become so small or that lightning could strike at any instant or that the shaft of the crane was swaying woozily in the wind. Trying and mostly succeeding—at least, that is, until I reached the top, whence I climbed onto the platform next to the operator’s cab (which was hanging wide open) and proceeded to vomit, although whether it was from a fear of heights or the smell of decompositi
