Eltoora: "...there's no going back. I'm sorry, Zanzi."
Zanzi stares into the middle distance while again struggling to comprehend the severity of Eltoora's assessment of her situation.
Zanzi having slowly restored her focus back on Eltoora now begins to shake her head in denial: "No... no, this is crazy. Why are you telling me this nonsense? The Sisters of Light and Darkness fighting over me because of time? And I thought I was losing it! I come to you for advice about some quirkiness going on in this Game and you give me all this crap about Shar and Selune. I've got to get out of here!" And she jumps out of the chair and strides angrily towards the Cloak Tower exit.
Eltoora urgently running after the elf, grabs her by the arm: "Zanzi, listen to me!"
Zanzi without slowing her hasty pursuit of the exit: "Get your hand off me, you nutcase!" and she pulls her arm free of Eltoora's grasp.
Eltoora again grabbing at Zanzi's arm, this time forcing her to a stop: "Listen to me, this is no glitch in the Game."
Zanzi: "Touch me again Eltoora and I'll flatten you, now sod off and go and bury yourself in your books again!" and she squirms herself free of Eltoora before storming out of the Cloak Tower.
Eltoora, calling after Zanzi from the doorway: "You can't run from this, Zanzi!"
Seeking sanctuary from the truth of Eltoora's words, Zanzi enters the Hall of Justice, and once inside the building beats a hasty path to the bedroom allocated to her by Lady Aribeth. On entering the bedroom she leans back against the door and tells herself, "I'm living like there's no tomorrow." Fatigue soon overcomes Zanzi and she lies down wearily on her bed, too exhausted to undress. "Why me?" she utters before sleep drags such thoughts away.
As she dreams, the 30-60-90 begins to feed images into her mind of a large and dreary place crammed with wretched individuals over whom she has the power of life and death. Much pleasure is gained by abusing this power to select a tiny few for her own sadistic satisfaction, but the vast majority of these hated machines will be marched to their deaths and their bodies used to fuel a pagan sun. (Zanzi will interpret this part of the 30-60-90-controlled dream as a bardic song, "Marching the Hate Machines (Into the Sun)" - Thievery Corporation). In this place where she is the supreme predator and they are the weakest of prey, she is sometimes tasked when the whistle blows to organise them for selection by a handsome young man with whom she is romantically acquainted and for whom she has great admiration. "Tell me when the whistle blows," he had once flippantly instructed her after affectionately kissing her on the cheek, and she has done so ever since. When waking Zanzi recognises the voice of her dream lover as that of JM from within the intellect devourer ("Tell Me When the Whistle Blows" - Elton John).