Maier felt great and assumed his mental well-being to be the result of the drug he had been given. Everything in his head repeated itself over and over, at unfathomable speeds. He knew that he’d been lying on his bunk for ten thousand years. He could feel himself lying there ten minutes ago. Or perhaps his euphoria could have something to do with the fact that he was still alive. Wherever he was now, his life couldn’t be worth much to anyone but himself.
Outside, somewhere unimaginably far away, he could hear birdsong, perhaps a few insects. No people, no engine noises. Familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
After some time, he managed to move his head.
The White Spider sat in front of him. He was alone. The man was so old, a single kick would end it all. But Maier couldn’t eve
