And now he planned to make me a great public works project, too. Dexter the Magnificent, who doth bestride the world like a colossus, many lovely corpses at his feet, brought to you in living color just in time for the evening news. Oh, Mama, who is that large and handsome man with the bloody saw? Why, that's Dexter Morgan, dear, the horrible man they arrested a little while ago. But Mama, why is he smiling? He likes his work, dear. Let that be a lesson to you —always find a worthy job that keeps you happy.

I had learned enough in college to appreciate the fact that a civilization was judged by its art. It was humbling to think that, if Weiss was successful, future generations would look back on the twenty-first century and weigh its accomplishments with my image.

This kind of immortality was a very tempting idea —but there were a few drawbacks to this particular invitation to eternal fame. First of all, I am far too modest, and second —well, there was the whole thing about people discovering what I really am. People like Coulter and Salguero, for example. Which they certainly would, if this video of my image was projected onto a large public building with a pile of corpses at its feet. Really a lovely thought, but unfortunately it would lead these people to ask certain questions, make a few connections, and before long the meal of the day would be Cream of Dexter Soup, lovingly cooked on Old Sparky and served up to you on the front page of the Herald.

No, this was very flattering, but I was not really prepared to become a living icon of twenty-first century art. With all possible reluctance, I would have to extend my regrets and decline the honor.

And how?

It was a fair question, after all. The pictures told me what Weiss wanted to do —but they told me nothing about how far along his plans were, or when he wanted to do it, or even where.

But wait a minute: they did tell me where. I turned to the last picture again, the one that showed the whole lunatic project in brightly colored detail. The drawing of the building that served as a projection screen was very specific and looked familiar —and the two rows of royal palms, I had seen this somewhere before, I was quite sure. Someplace I had actually been, too; but where and when?

I stared at the picture and let my giant brain whirl. I had been there in the not-too-distant past. Perhaps only a year or so before I got married?