The screaming stopped。
SOMEONE HAD CALLED the local arbites。 They moved in through the crowds of onlookers as the last of the rain fell and the skies began
to clear。
I showed them my credentials and told them to keep the crowd back while I finished my work。 The trailer was already burning； and
Alizebeth and I threw the last few hololith prints into the flames。
The pictures were fading now。 Superimposed on each one； every portrait； every landscape； every miniature； was a ghost exposure。 An
after…image。
Bakunin； screaming his last scream forever。
（The End）
。 … 。………【gzbysh】整理