He cried aloud.
The pinkish lights went out. He was in the dark again, worse dark than
before.
For before the light had gone, McCray had seen what had escaped
his eyes before. The suit and the microphone were clear enough in
the pinkish glimmer; but the hand--his own hand, cupped to hold the
microphone--he had not seen at all. Nor his arm. Nor, in one fleeting
moment of study, his chest.
McCray could not see any part of his own body at all.