Inside a building with immaculate walls and corridors, I began hearing a voice echoing, "Supreme riskers, supreme riskers," and I saw a robot moving along one of the corridors blaring out the message.

In the various rooms adjoining the hall were machines which apparently were supposed to respond to the call. When I walked into one room, it rather seemed as if I were not even there, although I was still able to see my surroundings. To the left was what appeared to be some type of orange machine which stood perhaps a meter high and looked like a box. Within the box stood a man who appeared either to be sleeping or in a trance. He seemed to have something bound around his head. To his left was a doorway which apparently led out into the maze of the corridor. I felt a strong affinity toward the man. Although he did not look exactly like me and I could not clearly distinguish his features, I felt that a definite consanguinity existed between us.

When the door cracked a bit and the message resounded through the room, the man momentarily awakened. He was obviously perplexed at his predicament and at this point my thoughts seemed to be his. He was apparently being turned by something or someone into a machine. He seemed to have total amnesia and could recall nothing, yet he could clearly surmise his predicament and the danger in which he found himself.

The door opened and a fellow in an orange suit entered. The man in the box resumed his former rigid state and appeared as before. The new fellow bent over to untie something and, without warning, the man in the box gave the fellow a powerful slug on the jaw which knocked him out. The man in the box proceeded to cautiously step out of the box. He noticed a piece of orange cloth, like a sheet, wrapped around the machine and connected to the door handle. He moved stealthily to the door.

Apparently he stepped outside the door and found himself - as I found myself - starring at a gigantic picture scene which showed a large crowd of people among whom stood a crystal-clear image of Frankenstein with his grayish-greenish skin, the two rods protruding from his neck, and his sad, sad eyes. The crowd seemed engaged in watching something and the direction of the gaze turned toward the street where Christ was being carried, alive, through the street, nailed to the cross. The head and shoulders of Christ were brought into focus and Christ exchanged a moving and poignant stare with Frankenstein.