Smith looks back over his shoulder, and then the inevitable happens. As he is turned the other way, the five sections of lighting ahead of him go out in quick succession. The darkness actually seems to lunge. Smith plunges into it. She has a brief glimpse of the scene in passive infrared, Smith falling painfully on his face, something cracking in one knee. He gets to his feet and calls out some sort of apology: "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it," although frustratingly the conversation is in media res and he doesn’t feel the need to say what he’s sorry for, or to whom. She hears what might be footsteps, or water dripping from a pipe, or some sort of static, and then the feed cuts as the recording comes to an end.