The monster rose up out of the sea, its shadow like night over us. The size! What is size? What can I say but that a mountain was suddenly thrust through the waves? I heard it, then, in my mind—we must have all heard it—the whisper. It was like a flute, a sharp note cutting through my every thought: One singular message, one emotion, from it to us, transferred in some unknowable way. It was simply hate. Hate for its bounds, hate for us, for our freedom, our smallness. Hate and pleasure, pleasure that it would kill us.