I was meant to be a poet, an artist, a writer. Anything. Not a factory worker. And I hate the fucking. And I detest the fucking men who fuck me! They�...�re such beasts! Worse even than the men in Buggery. At least they enjoyed what they were doing!” Tracey wept with Buttercup, acutely distressed by her lover’s own distress. She looked at Zeta imploringly. “This working in factories isn’t doing Buttercup any good at all. It’s fucking killing her. Isn’t there anything else we can do? Isn’t there any. At Sarah's reality, as well, as Sarahbegan using those doorways as often as she could.Space itself is a sea of time and a void full of nothing but, as ithappens, in nothing there is something. Within that something are smalleddies where both time, and that void, swirl and collect. Sarahdiscovered those swirls as her first doorway was created by nature.That's how she'd found the people on the other side. In time she cameto understand that she was once one of them.Sarah had no sense of time. More

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