Terminator’s Eye

To my surprise, there was someone in a mask peering over the commando’s shoulder.

I think she should be informed, I heard. There is a hole.

The commando looked at his watch.

We must hurry, he said.

The man in the mask seemed to agree.


I watched – in kind of morbid fascination – as the robot came towards me.

It stopped, and the arm extended out of the miniature scaffolding of a Macarno set.

On the end of the arm was what I am tempted to describe as the eye of the Terminator.


I had been persuaded as much by their dress as the Terminator eye itself. They were going to have to excavate.

When the pain came down, as though the arm had suddenly and yet quite deliberately ripped something from inside me, I thought:

It must be my stomach! - That is where the hole is.