As I walked, I ran my fingertips the length of the wall, in the hopes of encountering one of the panels, the opening of which would discover the contents of a chamber by which I would orient myself. To my surprise, despite the number of panels I had passed on my way in, my fingers reported none such on my way back. My steps increased in speed, on the reasoning that my only chance was to reach the corridor’s end. In the meantime, never had I before found all my senses so obscured. For the second time, therefore, my body found itself in a moment that was neither an instant nor an eternity. The difference this time was that the constant rhythm of my own stride let loose a powerful reflective state of mind that began to both produce and order ideas of the profoundest and most fantastic magnitude. I began to view a picture of the universe that I could grasp at the level of the galaxy, or at its smallest atom, and comprehend entirely its workings. I felt, in fact, a great hurry to write it all down, but the absence of light and my lack of ink had to postpone this. I began to suspect that my hand was tracing the characters along the wall of its own will.