Receptor had taken charge and wasn’t going to give the reins back. That was okay with Chet. He just wished it wasn’t all so strange. Everything was unfocused and, although it was cold in the car with the door open to the wind and the rain, he was sweating. He unbuttoned his coat and he stepped outside into mid-air. He was falling and he found himself mumbling a prayer to Receptor. The Earth, below him, grew larger and larger. He took a deep breath and his fear flew away from him. He knew that Receptor was infallible. Nothing was ever going to hurt him anymore.
His body stretched out on the bench-seat of the car and stared hollow-eyed at the ceiling. He just lay there, staring upwards, gazing at a small rip next to the dome-light. He floated up into that slit in the fabric and he hid. Inside his mind were colors – colors floating and twisting together, spreading out like a gas spill on cement.
He was happy and mindless, content in the knowledge that he had now become the watcher and not the doer of his life. He had tossed away that responsibility because he knew Receptor could take care of him. Receptor knew everything. Receptor had all the answers. Receptor, the overmind, was everywhere at once. Receptor flashed through time and space and the images, the sounds and the feelings flooded the man’s brain until it flowed out his ears and his eyes and his mouth and it filled the car with steaming, smoking, electrical impulse.
A lifetime later, he climbed up, fought his way past the car’s steering wheel, and pulled himself out of the car. He put the keys in his jacket pocket. He closed the car’s door. He went down into the valley to meet God.
Receptor knew the way. Receptor was the eyes-behind-the-eyes of the man. It could see all that he saw. Plus, it could see the edges and the insides of his eyes. It could see the currents of energy running through his body. It had taken over. The man didn’t care. He was happy to be a spectator. He didn’t even wonder where he was going. He was just along for the ride.