I come and I go, putting Hypatia to sleep as I want. But even when she's awake, I'm with her, looking out through her eyes; my cold, dry sister. She saves her love for the sooted workers, suffocating deep down in the mines. For the children in hovels at the edge of the city, cursed with short, nasty lives. And for Vasco, her trusted assistant, missing now for months. Wherever did he go, dear sister? I long to take him apart, to roll in the mess. Rutting against his slippery skull, driving myself against his red femur. In time, good Vasco, in time.