“Sixth, I think.”
“Who are you?”
“—the elevators aren’t running, and the door to the steps is locked. As long as the lights are off, we can’t get out.”
“So you might as well sit down and stay down. That’s what we’re doing. At least you won’t break your nose.”
A yowl, a louder scuffle, and a thud.
“Not on me! Nobody said for you to sit on me!”
“I hit my elbow on this God-damned floor. None of you gives one damn, do you? I could have broken my arm.”
“Is that a man or a woman?”
“A woman. You can tell by the voice.”
“A man. It’s too big for a lady.”
“Probably Emma Cook. She’s as big as a house.”
“Or Corky Davis. He’s as big as two houses, but he pretends to be a woman all the time.”
“Or Candy. That you, Candy?”
“Yes, it’s me,” Candy said.
“No, it’s not. I’m over here. You want to feel me?”
“Hey! Hands to yourself.”
“Move over so I can sit down.”
“I think we ought to go around the circle—are we in a circle? And tell who we are.”
“I am the Page of Wands.”
“You sound more like a woman than a little boy.”
“Let’s go around. Not all of us are crazy. We ought to be able to weed out the nuts soon enough.”
“Is that you, Mr. Stubb?” Sandy asked.
“I’m Candy—over here.”
“No, my name is Dr. Robert R. Roberts.”
“Oh, you can’t help that, we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad!” Sandy objected. “What makes you think I am?”
“You must be, or you wouldn’t have come here. M-e-e-ow!”
“Come on, let’s go around,” Stubb said. “I’m Stubb.”
“Wallace J. Willis.”
“Joan Giraud.”
“Page of Wands.”
“Candy Garth.”
“Klipspringer.”
“Nimo.”
“Maude Gonne.”
“Carlton C. Katz.”
“Hey, Stubb, hasn’t it got back to you yet?”
“No.”
“No!”
“NO!”
“Corona Borealis.”
“Osgood M. Barnes,” Barnes said firmly.
“Jake Barnes.”
“Candy Garth.”
“Hey, you’re not me!”
“She’s not me either.”
“Candy, was that you?”
“No!”
