Eight ten-thousandths of a tiny fraction of an inch was all that remained of the distance between heaven and earth.
Zero point zero eight tiny fractions of an inch.
It was a distance smaller than the wavelength of red light, narrower than the cell wall of a yeast spore, and thinner than the film of oil left by a fingerprint on polished glass.
Yet until that tiny clearance collapsed to total zero, the World-Engine was merely a huge machine resting upon a foundation.
It wasn’t yet the spine of the continent.
At Mile Twenty, the four hundred massive power loads of energized earth-heat current had steadied within the quartz lattice.
The blinding golden beam had crushed the breakdown wave. That left the night sky clear, cold, and studded with silent stars.
Now came the physical lock.
