Snowman stands on the sand and declares aloud that he is “all alone” on a vast sea. He longs for a fully human voice and recalls watching animal‑behaviour DVDs as a child, noting how the sounds of hyenas, lions, and other beasts once comforted him. He cycles through a montage of animal noises—hyena laughter, lion roars, pigoon grunts, wolvog howls—while flinging stones at the ocean and shouting profanities, which temporarily relieves his distress. He stretches, his sheet falls away, and he surveys his own body: grime‑covered skin, bug bites, salt‑and‑pepper hair, thick yellow toenails, and exposed ribs, realizing he is wasting away from lack of animal protein. A woman’s sultry voice whispers “Nice buns!” and later “Nice abs!” but she remains silent when Snowman begs her to speak. He identifies her as a different woman, not Oryx, noting that Oryx has become quiet. He imagines a professional sex‑skills expert, a trapeze artist with fish‑scale spangles, and a series of grotesque sexual fantasies involving demons, mermaids, and hybrid creatures, all of which he deems terrifying. He scans the horizon with his single sunglassed eye, sees only empty hot metal sea, a bleached blue sky, and a sun‑burned hole. In a burst of rage, he yells “Crake! Asshole! Shit‑for‑brains!” toward the ocean, accusing Crake for his plight. He feels his breath clamp like a giant hand, panic rising, and finally mutters to himself, “Snowman, Snowman, get a life.”