‘The Jaw of Saturn,’ says Dr. Vércsehalmi in the classroom while Csabi tries to suppress a yawn, ‘is that one single minute during a funeral when the sleeping Great Lord might open his eyes for a moment, if he deems the deceased and the mourners worthy. And then a miracle could happen, a horror, which the human mind cannot comprehend.’

Richard wipes his glasses in the tent, the rain slowly pouring in drops. He is waiting for the answer to his question.

‘Sometimes the dead come back,’ says Leila. ‘That happens quite often, they say. There are only stories of what the Jaw of Saturn is like. Nobody I know has ever been to a funeral where a miracle actually happened. If it did happen though, we would go mad. We would die. Maybe the world would come to an end.’

Aurora and Csabi are lying in bed. Aurora is leisurely smoking a menthol cigarette. Csabi finds the taste of her menthol-­infused kiss particularly appealing.

‘One time in Damascus,’ says the woman, ‘the sun disappeared. A terrible, dark object concealed it. The mourners looked up to the sky, at the absence of the sun, and out of the dark matter, from the depths of the universe, something boiled up. Black spiders fell from the sky like rain onto the mourners’ heads, each more venomous than the deadliest snakes on Earth. On another occasion, in France, I believe it was still in the times of human sacrifice, the corpse got off the catafalque and began to speak. He unveiled everyone’s darkest secrets, which started a violent fight among the mourners. By the end of the massacre, the talking corpse had disappeared. Some believe the Great Lord had taken him. Others think he still walks among us, poisoning our lives.’

Peter sits in the studio, facing the cameras, and he himself is surprised that his voice doesn’t quaver.

‘There was a case,’ he says, ‘when all the mourners went gray at once, and they had the same dream for the rest of their lives. Another time, the Earth refused to accept the corpse; instead, the mourners watched as it twisted itself into a tree of flesh whose fruit was an unending crop of monsters that overran the Earth. And the Sunless Slaves talked for the first time in their lives.’

He knows he is making a mistake. The Slaves should be mentioned as infrequently as possible.

Richárd, Csabi, and the television host all ask the same question, in very different times and spaces.

‘Is this true?’

Leila shrugs her shoulders.

‘If I thought otherwise, I would be punished by the Great Lord. So it must be true.’

Aurora stubs out the cigarette.

‘As true,’ she tells Csabi, ‘as the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the miracles of Christian saints. As true as Buddha is an overweight, smiling man. As true as God is the Word.’