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All of this was true, and I hated myself for forgetting it. The facts I needed were all neatly tucked away in their paper catacombs. There were some things in my favor. This forklift had hardly enough brains to be called arobot,it just followed taped directions to load the cans. There was plenty of exposed film, no doubt filled with studies of my unconscious faceBeforeand After. I had broken a bone when I hityet he had never made a sound. How can you be sure this killer will ever read one of thesethings. And waiting was all I could do.