He thought: Miracle of miracles! The life-after-life nuts were right.Īnd although that was a humiliating way for an atheistic physicist to die, he felt only the mildest surprise, and no alteration of the peace in which he was immersed. He was down there, sprawled, face contorted. Now, with the pain gone, the others were still hovering, still anxious, still gathered about his fallen body –– Which, he suddenly realised, he was looking down on. He had been in the laboratory when the pain had struck, quite without warning, and when he had staggered, he had heard surprised outcries from the others before everything vanished into overwhelming agony. He opened his eyes and noted with distant amusement that the others in the room were still agitated. Murray felt an almost giddy lightness as though he were lifting in the air and hovering. There is no pleasure like the absence of pain – immediately after pain. He could feel his breath slowing and a kind of gathering peace washing over him. The pain had come suddenly, had mounted to an unbearable peak, and had then ebbed steadily. Murray Templeton was forty-five years old, in the prime of life, and with all parts of his body in perfect working order except for certain key portions of his coronary arteries, but that was enough.
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