the ground.
It stood upright, ten feet tall, rested its hands on the hilt of the sword, and halted. It didn't look very much different from its posture on the slab, but this time there was an air of alertness about it, a sense of huge energies idly ticking over. It paid no attention at all to the four who had awoken it.
The screen stopped its wild pulsating. Something had sensed the presence of the golden man and was focusing its attention on him. Which meant that it was temporarily removing it from elsewhere.
There was a stirring from the audience. They were waking up.
Victor grabbed the Librarian and Detritus.
'You two,' he said. 'Get everyone out of here. Get them out of here fast.'
'Gook!'
The Holy Wood people didn't need much encouragement. Seeing the shapes on the screen clearly, without the cushion of hypnosis, was enough to make anything brainier than Detritus have a sudden urge to be a long way away. Victor could see them struggling over the seats, fighting to escape from the pit.
Ginger started to follow them. Victor stopped her.
'Not yet,' he said, quietly. 'Not us.'
'What do you mean?' she demanded.
He shook his head. 'We have to be the last ones out,' he said. 'It's all part of Holy Wood. You can use the magic, but it uses you, too. Besides, don't you want to see how it all ends?'
'I had rather hoped to see how it all ends from a long way off.'
'OK, look at it another way . . . it's going to take a couple of minutes for them to get out. We might as well have a clear run at it, eh?'
They could hear shouts in the ante-chamber as the former audience piled into the tunnel.
Victor walked up the suddenly-deserted aisle to the back row and sat down in a vacated seat.
'I hope old Detritus is bright enough not to be left holding up the ceiling again,' he said.
Ginger sighed, and sat down next to him.
Victor put his feet up on the seat in front of him and fumbled in his pockets.
'Would you like', he said, 'some banged grains?'
The golden man was just visible under the screen. His head was bowed.
'You know, he does look like my Uncle Oswald,' said Ginger.
The screen went dark with such suddenness the inrushing blackness almost made a noise.
This must have happened many times before, Victor thought. In dozens of universes. The wild idea arrives, and somehow the golden man, the Oswald or whatever, arises. To control it. Or something. Maybe wherever Holy Wood goes, Osric follows.
A point of purple light appeared, and grew faster very quickly. Victor felt that he was dropping down a tunnel.
The golden figure raised its head.
The light twisted, and took on random features. The screen wasn't there any more. This was something entering the world. It wasn't an image at the other end of the hall, but something frantically trying to exist.
The golden man drew back his sword.
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