"Kepe from haire. Der fevreblau hast bifallen us." — Connie Willis

It’s the light, she thought. Everyone looks like a cutthroat by torchlight. No wonder they invented electricity.

“They’re absolutely necrotic, aren’t they?” Colin whispered behind his order of service.

“It’s late twentieth century atonal,” Dunworthy whispered back. “It’s supposed to sound dreadful.”

Nobody deserves this. “Please,” she prayed, and wasn’t sure what she asked.

Whatever it was, it was not granted.