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d see the intertwined people that made up the body： the backs like turtles packed together to offer the sweep of the pectorals； the lashed and knotted acrobats at the joints of the arms and the legs alike； rolling and unwinding to articulate the city。
But surely the most amazing sight of all was the face。
Cheeks of bodies； cavernous eye…sockets in which heads stared； five bound together for each eyeball； a broad； flat nose and a mouth that opened and closed； as the muscles of the jaw bunched and hollowed rhythmically。 And from that mouth； lined with teeth of bald children； the voice of the giant； now only a weak copy of its former powers； spoke a single note of idiot music。
Popolac walked and Popolac sang。
Was there ever a sight in Europe the equal of it？
They watched； Mick and Judd； as it took another step towards them。
The old man had wet his pants。 Blubbering and begging； he dragged himself away from the ruined cottage into the surrounding trees； dragging his dead legs after him。
The Englishmen remained where they stood； watching the spectacle as it approached。 Neither dread nor horror touched them now； just an awe that rooted them to the spot。 They knew this was a sight they could never hope to see again； this was the apex…after this there was only mon experience。 Better to stay then； though every step brought death nearer； better to stay and see the sight while it was still there to be seen。 And if it killed them； this monster； then at least they would have glimpsed a miracle； known this terrible majesty for a brief moment。 It seemed a fair exchange。
Popolac was within two steps of the cottage。 They could see the plexities of its structure quite clearly。 The faces of the citizens were being detailed： white； sweat…wet； and content in their weariness。 Some hung dead from their harnesses； their legs swinging back and forth like the hanged。 Others； children particularly； had ceased to obey their training； and had relaxed their positions； so that the form of the body was degenerating； beginning to seethe with the boils of rebellious cells。
Yet it still walked； each step an incalculable effort of coordination and strength。
Boom…The step that trod the cottage came sooner than they thought。
Mick saw the leg raised； saw the faces of the people in the shin and ankle and foot…they were as big as he was now…all huge men chosen to take the full weight of this great creation。
Many were dead。 The bottom of the foot； he could see； was a jigsaw of crushed and bloody bodies； pressed to death under the weight of their fellow citizens。
The foot descended with a roar。
In a matter of seconds the cottage was reduced to splinters and dust。
Popolac blotted the sky utterly。 It was； for a moment； the whole world； heaven and earth； its presence filled the senses to overflowing。 At this proximity one look could not enpass it； the eye had to range backwards and forwards over its mass to take it all in； and even then the mind refused to accept the whole truth。
A whirling fragment of stone； flung off from the cottage as it collapsed； struck Judd full in the face。 In his head he heard the killing stroke like a ball hitting a wall： a play…yard death。 No pain： no remorse。 Out like a light； a tiny； insignificant light； his death…cry lost in the pandemonium； his body hidden in the smoke and darkness。 Mick neither saw nor heard Judd die。
He was too busy staring at the foot as it settled for a moment in the ruins of the cottage； while the other leg mustered the will to move。
Mick took his chance。 Howling like a banshee； he ran towards the leg； longing to embrace the monster。 He stumbled in the wreckage； and stood again； bloodied； to reach for the foot before it was lifted and he was left behind。 There was a clamour of agonized breath as the message came to the foot that it must move； Mick saw the muscles of the shin bunch and marry as the leg began to lift。 He made one last lunge at the limb as it began to leave the ground； snatching a harness or a rope； or human hair； or flesh itself…anything to catch this passing miracle and be part of it。 Better to go with it wherever it was going； serve it in its purpose； whatever that might be； better to die with it than live without it。
He caught the foot； and found a safe purchase on its ankle。 Screaming his sheer ecstasy at his success he felt the great leg raised； and glanced down through the swirling dust to the spot where he had stood； already receding as the limb climbed。
The earth was gone from beneath him。 He was a hitchhiker with a god： the mere life he had left was nothing to him now； or ever。 He would live with this thing； yes； he would live with it…seeing it and seeing it and eating it with his eyes until he died of sheer gluttony。
He screamed and howled and swung on the ropes； drinking up his triumph。 Below； far below； he glimpsed Judd's body； curled up pale on the dark ground； irretrievable。 Love and life and sanity were gone； gone like the memory of his name； or his sex； or his ambition。
It all meant nothing。 Nothing at all。
Boom…Boom…Popolac walked； the noise of its steps receding to the east。 Popolac walked； the hum of its voice lost in the night。
After a day； birds came； foxes came； flies； butterflies； wasps came。 Judd moved； Judd shifted； Judd gave birth。 In his belly maggots warmed themselves； in a vixen's den the good flesh of his thigh was fought over。 After that； it was quick。 The bones yellowing； the bones crumbling： soon； an empty space which he had once filled with breath and opinions。
Darkness； light； darkness； light。 He interrupted neither with his name。
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