The sun is silver gray again, but the beach is full as always this time of the year. The Beta Police steps through the sunbathing rock bodies, paying no care to avoid any physical contact. Some Betas kick the tourists, but these do not object; they’re good three hours away from returning to their waking form. Suddenly, a piercing shriek rises from the other side of the pebble beach and a flock of gulls flies up in the air before they disintegrate at first contact with the silver sunlight. The Betas run towards the shriek in hazy dissonance. Lying down in the shallow water a half-man, half-rock is dying covered with moss, and nobody, not even the most senior Beta, can hide the fear that piles thick in the air.
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