“The contrast between the bipolar hours astonishes him. Not twelve and twelve, noon and midnight – at twelve noon most people still retain hangovers, night-horrors, and at midnight work still impinges on sleep, drink and sex. The real contrast comes later, three versus three.
At 3pm in the office, surrounded by wisecracks and sandwiches, daily gripes and daylight distractions, Hook can almost convince himself the world’s under control, that life can be segmented, as pioneers segmented the American plains; digitised and pixelated and reduced to byte-sized chunks.
Yet when he awakes from some internal horror at 3am Hook senses there’s no control, order, plot, history or sense to any of it, only the slither of life’s light being crushed from all dimensions by darkness, and darkness conquers and all will be still and cold and (most of all) silent.”
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