They sat at the head of the conference table, three a side, and glared at each other in icy silence.
Momo, who had watched these developments with horrified fascination,
noticed that the temperature rose appreciably every time another batch of losers disappeared.
Compared to what it had been before, the cold was quite tolerable.
″Six,″ remarked one of the survivors, ″is an unlucky number.″
″That's enough,″ said another. ″There's no point in reducing our numbers still further.
If six of us can't survive this disaster, neither will three.″
″Not necessarily,″ said someone else, ″but we can always review the situation if the need arises - later, I mean.″
No one spoke for a while. Then another survivor said, ″Lucky for us the door to the time store was open when disaster struck.
If it had been shut at the crucial moment, no power on earth could open it now.
We'd be absolutely sunk.″ ″You're not entirely right, I'm afraid,″ replied another.
″Because the door is open, cold is escaping from the refrigeration plant.
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