"Hie!" it cried in a buzzing voice, like a thousand flies fluttering their wings in unison. "You! On our wavelength! Carry our message! It's heavy, made of rocks!" "You aren't real," Sophia repeated like a mantra, shaking her head violently as she rummaged through the cluttered pantry. "You're a hallucination, not real, no, nothing to see here." "Apocalypso dancing! Sunday Sunday Sunday! You'll want to cut your wrists with the whole knife, but you'll only need the edge!"