No.92. Bluebottle. He decided that despair embraced more motivation than despondency did. Every day he would try again, and by the end of the week he was painting on a large wooden panel, working it so relentlessly that it finally groaned and gave him back a field of images, one of which appeared to be a gigantic blue beetle-shaped, carapace-like object that he he found both beautiful and repulsive in equal measure. The landscape in which the Bluebottle rested appeared to be on some cold and distant planet. The pink, reagent-like cylinder at his left was perhaps, he thought, some kind of life-support canister dredged up from the wetlands of his unconscious.