“Do not stare,” Blinky said. “It is a lamentable sight.”

“What’s with you guys and TVs?” I asked.

Blinky spoke in a hush. “Do not be quick to judge, small-brained one. There is no sun in the life of a troll, indeed scarce little light at all. Is it any wonder that we cherish your televisions, that some of us even worship them like primitive man worshipped his sun gods—Ra, Helios, Apollo, Sol Invictus, Huitzilopochtli?” His tentacles rippled haughtily. “There is not a troll alive who possesses fewer than two sets.”

“What shows do you guys like?”

“What you would consider lacking in entertainment value, we prefer. Commercials, in fact, are prized among us for their accelerated pace and bright colorings. Nothing, though, satisfies like pure static. Should you find time to study this liquid weave, you will discover beauty, divinity. So many sifting layers, so many patterns of meaning, so many whispered secrets.”

Drool poured from the slack mouths of at least two of the mesmerized trolls.

“So it’s like a drug?” I asked.

“It is precisely a drug. The calming effect is unlike anything else, and it is perfectly healthy in moderation. Today’s troll experiences almost daily televisual contact. Nurses use them to ease the dementia of the elderly. Mothers use them to quiet their brood. I myself once spent a period of years riveted by an extraordinary signal from a faraway place called the BBC. I like to think that it contributed to the melodious harmonics of my voice.”

“It did,” I said. “Trust me.”

“But I am one of the fortunate. Like any drug taken in excess, it can ruin a mind. Those poor souls there will give every coin they have to try new signals, better signals, any signal at all, and while doing so will forget to eat, forget to drink, forget to excrete their waste. It is no coincidence that many cemeteries are located near Static Dens.”

“Why doesn’t it affect people that way?”

“Doesn’t it, dear boy?”

“All right. I see what you’re saying. But why—”

Jack slapped the brick with his right hand and snarled without turning around.

“You ask too many questions. Why this? Why that? How does it all work? What does it all mean? Down here things are what they are. You better get used to it. Or better yet, stop caring. Because there will never be enough answers to satisfy you, and even if there were, we don’t have the time.”