The funeral is held a week later, in Endre’s hometown. He is buried next to his parents. It is raining. Everyone wears black, so it’s not that different from the crowd at a Steelbird show. Most of the band members are there, even Tibi, the original singer. Nobody cares anymore whether he was an informer or not. The song ‘Like Crows in the Sky’ plays from the speakers. Everyone is crying by the time the song is over, then they bury Endre. Later on they drink in the pub across the street from the cemetery. They drink and remember, drink and laugh, drink and cry. I wish I could be drinking with them, but I just watch from the dark corners. If I closed my eyes I could imagine them talking to me.

They toss around the idea of getting the band back together again, maybe for a memorial show. Possibly even recording a final album; Csaba mentions that he has an album’s worth of songs on his computer. Everyone nods significantly, like they’re seriously considering the offer. He only mentions later on to Tibi that he can’t even turn on his computer anymore; that everything he has done throughout his life has now turned into ruins, worthless rubbish. Then he throws up.

Later that night he is offered a job. I made it happen. I created the idea through dreams and impressions; my tiny spiders can crawl into any place and any person. The offer is being made by a woman named Betti Csernák; her father was a big Steelbird fan. As a child she often saw them play live. She came to the funeral to pay her respects, and there, understanding Csaba’s situation, she makes him an offer. She has a small company, and there is an opening.

It’s not a difficult job; he would need to inspect, supervise, and register the merchandise at the headquarters of her export-import company. It would be just perfect for Csaba. He asks for a day to think it over. I know that if he says yes, then he will also take his place on the Throne. With people like him, one small crack in the wall of self-esteem is enough to completely break it down.

He roams the streets drunk the entire night, thinking about the offer. Work, from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., fixed salary, cafeteria. With the money he could buy a video card, new clothes, could maybe even heat his house properly come winter. The memorial concert and the final album could be arranged, because his life would be in working order again, even if in a limited capacity. I decide that he needs a little push now, so I make myself visible.

He gets a glimpse of me on the surface of a puddle, and he spits right into the water. I don’t even need to say a word, he already knows what I want. But this time he refrains from insulting me; he just watches me. Perhaps it’s the first time he really sees me. Maybe for the first time he can see what I really am, behind my appearance. Then he steps into the puddle and keeps chasing the dawn. I sit down on a bench and wait.