"Corto, stop. Wait. You’re blind , man. You can’t fly! You’ll hit the fucking trees . And they’re trying to get you, Corto, I swear to God, they’ve left your hatch open. You’ll die, and you’ll never get to tell ’em, and I gotta get the enzyme, name of the enzyme, the enzyme, man. . . ." He was shouting, voice high with hysteria. Feedback shrilled out of the helmet’s phone pads.