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The boy tosses and turns in its sleep. Visions of endless caverns, giant whales, fantastical sea-creatures and underwater volcanoes haunt him. And machines… what about the machines? Were they really there? It had been so dark, and so hot. Could it all have been a figment of his imagination? It just didn’t make sense. And so on and on through each hour of the night, in a cold sweat, with a gut feeling that there is still something to be accomplished, that there is a greater program at work, a greater good to be achieved…