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Two
Itwasdaylight(howwasitdaylight?atinyvoiceasked,inthebackofhishead.Ithadbeenalmostnightwhenheenteredthealley,what,anhourago?),andhewasholdingontoametalladderthatranuptheoutsideofaveryhighbuilding(butafewsecondsagohewasclimbingupthesameladder,andhehadbeeninside,hadn’the?),andbelowhim,hecouldsee...
London.
Tinycars.Tinybusesandtaxis.Tinybuildings.Trees.Miniaturetrucks.Tiny,tinypeople.Theyswaminandoutoffocusbeneathhim.
TosaythatRichardMayhewwasnotverygoodatheightswouldbeperfectlyaccurate,butitwouldfailtogivethefullpicture.Richardhatedclifftops,andhighbuildings:somewherenotfarinsidehimwasthefear—thestark,utter,silentlyscreamingterror—thatifhegottooclosetotheedge,thensomethingwouldtakeoverandhewouldfindhimselfwalkingtotheedgeofaclifftopandsteppingoffintospace.Itwasasifhecouldnotentirelytrusthimself,andthatscaredRichardmorethanthesimplefearoffallingevercould.Sohecalleditvertigo,andhateditandhimself,andkeptawayfromhighplaces.
Richardfrozeontheladder.Hishandsclampedtightlytotherungs.Hiseyeshurt,somewherebehindtheeyeballs.Hestartedbreathingtoofast,toodeeply."Somebody,"saidanamusedvoiceabovehim,"wasn’tlistening,washe?"
"I..."Richard’sthroatdidn’twork.Heswallowed,moisteningit."Ican’tmove."Hishandsweresweating.Whatiftheysweatedsomuchthathesimplyslippedoffintothevoid...?
