These people can break up a photograph into millions of pieces and send the pieces whizzing through the air and then put them together again at the other end.

Confess themselves baffled. Some note that none of the quakes took place in a densely populated area and are somewhat reassured. Some note the uniquely powerful though strictly local intensity of the blasts and are perturbed. Some note the utter inability of their science to explain the quakes even after the fact and fear that the end of the world is at hand. But.
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Course he will come back and do it again if Sam tells. He will be in the closet late at night; under the bed; perched in a tree like some gigantic misshapen crow. When Sam looks up into a troubled sky he will see the Library Policeman's twisted contemptuous face in the clouds. He will be anywhere; he will be everywhere. This thought makes Sam tired and he closes his eyes against that lunatic mole-face against everything. The Library Cop grabs him shakes him again. Yeth what? he hisses. Yeth what son? Yes I understand Sam tells him without opening his eyes. The Library Policeman withdraws his hand. Good he says. You better not forget. When bad boys and girls forget I kill them. Little White Walking Sam sits against the wall with his eyes closed for a long time waiting for the Library Cop to begin punishing him again or to simply kill him. He wants to.
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