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Gods in their Heaven, all’s right with the world.

Selena: fighting desperatly to keep her eyes open

The road: North Carolina, like a snake, rock mountain wall to the left, sheer drop into nowhere on the right.

The night: black, dead and staring, like the eyes of a man lying on a kitchenette floor in a motel in Washington D.C.  Somewhere back there behind Selena.

The fear: that they could trace her, through his department, or through the woman who had rented them the motel room.  And catch her.  And put her in prison.  And then kill her for killing him.

–the start of “Ernest and the Machine God,” a short story by Harlan Ellison