“ Greg , what ’ s going on ? You don ’ t sound sick , but you don ’ t sound like you .”
“ Go to sleep , Marg . Things will look different in the morning .”
There was a light patter against the door followed by footsteps .
He lay down again on the cot . He was prepared not just for sleep but the changes he knew would come . That had been Walter ’ s mistake : believing that he could carry on by either hiding or rejecting his newness . That morning , Walter had possessed the face of a corpse . All colour had been drained from him , leaving him like a hollow husk . His appearance drew the attention of concerned colleagues who crowded around him . He was sweating profusely across the paperwork on his desk and breathing heavily . One of the old hands from the accounts team tried to speak with him and even crouched down so he was on the same level , the way an adult might sometimes do with a small child . He asked Walter a banal question , but out of the silence that followed came not a human voice but the whirring sound of machinery . That was the first moment that Walter looked up from his desk and his frightened eyes met the confusion of the account man ’ s face . With trembling fingers , Walter started to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt . Looks of confusion and revulsion could be found on the faces of everyone present , except for the accounts man who looked perplexed . Until he caught sight of what lay beneath his shirt .