THERE WAS NO LIGHT. That was precious knowledge. The realization of which had cost her more than she would have thought possible, if she had but known. Everything needs a context. And for the darkness to mean anything there had to have been a memory of light. The memory was fading fast. It would happen, and then, more often than not, happen again. Sometimes there was more than just the tentative awareness that, in its-self, did not always register. She could not remember. It would come back to her, things usually did. She always remembered didn’t she? But she couldn’t remember. Time was something she had an eternity of, milliseconds were like millennia here.