I worked in the boiler room of the great machine I didn’t understand. For years I slept in beds of coal, ate food pellets, didn’t see another soul.

That doesn’t mean there weren’t soulless creatures about. There were the demons in the fire of the furnace. Gremlins would steal my coal shovel from time to time. Then there were the coal eaters; inky shadow forms one could only see in the periphery of one’s vision.

The presence of these creatures was disconcerting, but they never caused me much trouble. The trouble came when a deep growling voice came to me while I was sleeping in coal. It said my name, which I’d nearly forgotten. It said I should step into...