The Seventh Wave: a sneak peek into this week's installment

(With which we arrive at the end of the first act of the story.)

..She goes quietly into the other room, the bedroom that looks away from the sea, across the cornfields, past the horse farm, into the heart of the country. She lies in bed and stares at the ceiling for a long time, but then she gets up, looks out into the black night towards the town in the distance and sees something that frightens her. The horses are scared too. They whinny in their stalls. She wakes him and brings him into her room to look.

“What’s that,” she says. “On the horizon, that glow. And now, above us, that noise.”

“The glow is probably a fire,” he tells her. “And the noise, helicopters.”

“What’s happening? Can’t we plug in the TV?”

“It’s not important. If it’s the revolution, it will either fail, in which case things will go on as they were, or it will succeed, in which case things will become a little worse.”

“How can you say that? Such arrogance, such cynicism. It seems to me that nothing will ever be the same. How can we just stay here and do nothing when the world is on fire?”

“We are not doing nothing,” he tells her. “We are doing what we came here to do, a thing that is very important, more important than the uprising. We are falling in love.”