Roy continued his mad dash north. Tonight he was the Ichabod Crane of the cycle world. As if the headless horseman was in hot pursuit. Or worse, the devil himself chasing a man who had somehow come into possession of a “piece of truth” which could give some sense to a mad cap world of time and space which could dispel the shadows on the wall of the cave and lead to freedom. The sixties and seventies were long since gone. The eighties rolled by with relative ease of the spinning wheels int...