“And you don’t think anything of it?” I said.

He took a purposeful drag on the cigarette, pulled his mask down, and exhaled.

“The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born; now is the time of monsters.” The smoke streamed from the sides as he spoke, his eyes pressed shut against the stinging fumes. “The question folks need to ask themselves is, which sort of monster do they want to be? Are they gonna be the monsters we see in old pictures, condemned, or are they gonna be the monsters whose crimes are forgiven–heroes?”

“Which are you?”

He laughed. “Ask whatever’s left in 10 years.”

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