Trail of Shadows — The Black Signal

The idiot buzzing didn’t tell you the careful attention Maro Uno put into arranging the bodies of his kills. He had an inspired eye. I don’t know art, but I know what I like. The muttering voices didn’t tell you what they saw when they looked into his head, that the same parts of his brain lit up that lit up in Michael Angel’s brain when he painted the Sistine Chapel. I know, Chuck. I heard them murmuring. What else aren’t they telling you?

More food for thought: why does the universe save the wicked ones? It’s only the dreadful actions of the Maro Unos of the world that live on in echo. We’re never haunted by the child selling lemonade or the couple that celebrated their 70th anniversary. Norman Rockwell never reaches out of the mirror. What does that say about the universe’s selective memory? Eternity’s favoured children.