This defensive system, which had seemed formidable to him when he compiled 
it, now seemed like a pathetic gesture. It might stop a youth gang. But he had 
insensibly transcended the plane of petty delinquents and moved into a new 
realm, ruled by powers almost entirely hidden from his ken, and knowable to the 
likes of John Percival Hackworth only insofar as they perturbed the 
trajectories of the insignificant persons and powers who happened to be in his 
vicinity. He could do naught but continue falling through the orbit that had 
been ordained for him. This knowledge relaxed him more than anything he had 
learned in many years, and when he returned home, he kissed the sleeping Fiona, 
treated his wounds with more therapeutic technology from the M.C., covered them 
with pajamas, and slid beneath the covers. Drawn inward by Gwendolyn's dark 
radiant warmth, he fell asleep before he had even had time to 
pray.