Alone and lonely is not a human condition only – through passing windows on the C deck, Frost could see it: In phosphorous and enameled star light, the brunt of the cosmos' joke, tumbling and dripping in a wasteland of the collective imagination.
Slithy toves, indeed, thought Frost.
"What is it?" asked Nina, peering through the clouded glass.
"Nothing," said Frost. "Isn't it beautiful?"
She nodded, and her eyes were that of a forest creature, dumb and wide. How had he once loved her so?
Hours later, in their tiny cabin, it passed through as a ghost, and in its vorpal wake, thus slept Nina, red froth and foam all around. Frost sighed, unburdened, and determined, for he had heard its silent reverberating scream.
He opened the door, mome raths skittering at his boot step. Along metal corridors he searched, calling softly, "Captain? Captain?"
And found the beamish boy at last.