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The boy stands at the edge of the fissure, still clutching the branch that the octopus had given him. The temperature is uncomfortably warm, and the vapors being released from the fissure are even warmer. The rumblings have grown more ominous in volume and frequency and are now like peals of thunder. He is shocked to see that there are also large man-made machines, piloted by automatons. What could they possibly be doing there? He feels faint, and at that moment, the vent erupts like a geyser, and the sheer force of it propels him backs to sea level, just before the magic of the octopus’ branch wears off.