With a loud bang, the door burst open and in came Pus.
The audience backed away in panic, continually glancing over their shoulders so as not to stumble into chairs and tables, but then turning back to fix their terrified eyes on the visitor.
Somebody shrieked, a woman, but otherwise everyone retreated in silence, since pointless screaming would just have been a waste of time, and it was only when another woman had managed to jump out of the window that her loud cry rang out - delayed, but apparently in safety.
The others wanted to follow her example but they have jammed the area in front of the window - nobody managed to jump out - and several heavy sighs were audible in the press of bodies... but they didn't come from the people in the middle, the most crushed - they came from those nearest the window, who were looking out, preparing to jump... "Watch out!" called one of them in a muffled voice and pointed out of the window. In the ensuing confusion the news spread even faster - they were on the top floor of a high-rise building and down on the street a small dark dot was visible, with people running towards it like ants. No, this was not a retreat route.
Pus didn't move.
He leant against a table with his eyes closed - perhaps so as not to cause more panic in the paralysed herd, pressed up by the window as if sucked there by a gigantic vacuum cleaner. Some of them still looked desperately round the room for some kind of aid, but after a while they understood that the situation could only be resolved from above, or most likely by Pus.
He waited, leaning against the table; he knew that he was now playing the leading role in the room and he savoured the feeling for a little longer with his eyes shut. Then the silence had lasted too long. He opened his eyes a fraction and at first saw nothing through his lashes but a blurred dark smudge.
He knew it was the audience, lined up by the window filling every bit of the space furthest from Pus - he closed his eyes again, wanting to remain in this beautiful situation just a few seconds longer - then he opened them.
He saw a grey mushroom covered with white boils - the eyes of the audience as they seemed to him at that distance, stacked up tidily in three rows and covering the window like a dark cloud.
He made a move.
With one hand he unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled out a camera, warmed by his silken chest.
And then he took a picture of them.