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"
This
place
is
called
All
Flesh
Will
Perish
,
"
yelled
Trepp
above
the
noise
as
we
forced
our
way
in
through
the
crowd
.
She
pointed
to
the
girl
and
then
to
the
black
glass
rings
on
her
fingers
.
"
Where
I
got
the
idea
for
these
.
Great
effect
,
isn
’
t
it
?
"
I
got
drinks
,
quickly
.
The
human
race
has
dreamed
of
heaven
and
hell
for
millennia
.
Pleasure
or
pain
unending
,
undiminished
and
uncurtailed
by
the
strictures
of
life
or
death
.
Thanks
to
virtual
formatting
,
these
fantasies
can
now
exist
.
All
that
is
needed
is
an
industrial
-
capacity
power
generator
.
We
have
indeed
made
hell
—
and
heaven
—
on
earth
.
"
Sounds
a
bit
epic
,
Angin
Chandra
’
s
outward
-
bound
valediction
to
the
people
sort
of
thing
,
"
shouted
Trepp
.
"
But
I
take
your
point
.
"
Evidently
the
words
that
had
been
running
through
my
mind
were
also
running
out
of
my
mouth
.
If
it
was
a
quote
,
I
didn
’
t
know
where
it
was
from
.
Certainly
not
a
Quellism
;
she
would
have
slapped
anyone
making
that
kind
of
speech
.
"
Thing
is
,
"
Trepp
was
still
yelling
,
"
you
’
ve
got
ten
days
.
"
Reality
tilts
,
flows
sideways
in
gobs
of
flame
-
coloured
light
.
Music
.
Motion
and
laughter
.
The
rim
of
a
glass
under
’
my
teeth
.
A
warm
thigh
pressed
against
my
own
which
I
think
is
Trepp
’
s
,
but
when
I
turn
another
woman
with
long
straight
black
hair
and
crimson
lips
is
grinning
at
me
.
Her
look
of
open
invitation
reminds
me
vaguely
of
something
I
’
ve
seen
recently
—
Street
scene
:
Tiered
balconies
on
either
side
,
tongues
of
light
and
sound
splashed
out
onto
pavements
from
the
myriad
tiny
bars
,
the
street
itself
knotted
with
people
.
I
walked
beside
the
woman
I
had
killed
last
week
and
tried
to
hold
up
my
end
of
a
conversation
about
cats
.
