CALCIUM CALCULATES. HIS chalkboard filled with mathematical scribbles and chemical equations, he ponders. He paces. He stares out a still-standing window frame at his ruined town. He plays his burnt violin. Unearthly music. Modern Phrygian mode, I’m guessing. He goes back to the board. He practices rock climbing on what remains of his interior climbing wall. It doesn’t seem like he would need the hand and foot holds, since he is an ant and I presume has arolia. Perhaps his various hand and foot mutations have rid him of those. He is, in any event, quite skilled. I was, for several years, an avid recreational climber and quite good at it. I had been told by my internist that my body type is well-suited to climbing, so I took it up, and in a very short time, I was teaching my teachers. If it weren’t for an unfortunate and frankly inexplicable fall to the bottom of a sixty-foot sinkhole at the base of Mount Bald, I would still be at it. I wasn’t seriously injured, but I spent four days down there before my outfitter realized I had not returned my equipment. It was a traumatic experience and put me off climbing. That I had to eat three of my toes to survive contributed mightily to my subsequent aversion to this sport. I cannot say why I felt compelled to eat the first of my toes within fifteen minutes of the fall. I attribute it to an irrationality that often accompanies panic.