> After a time, he comes to a place of oracles. The Tarot readers and the
astrologers and the numerologists and the casters of the Yi Ching beckon to the
god in the red loincloth. But he passes them by.
Finally, he comes to a place where there are no people.
It is the place of the machines which predict.
At random, he selects a booth, enters.
“Yes?” inquires the booth.
“Queries,” Horus replies.
“A moment.”
There comes a metallic click and an inner door opens.
“Enter the cubicle.”
Horus moves to enter a small room. It contains a bed, of sorts. A heavy