Bloat.

[Back] in our high-school, in the old auditorium, which had been converted into a classroom and filled with students I didn't know. We were listening to my third-grade teacher, who had died five or six years before. She stood in front of a very large chalkboard packed with lines and symbols I didn't understand. Her lecture was wordless. She'd point to a patch behind her and the class would nod in unison. When I asked the girl next to me what was happening, she said, "We've almost got it. We almost know how to destroy everything."