. . . almost anything, he amends, somewhere underneath the layer of Rich's memory. Anything except this, smothered and blind and deaf inside his own head, unaware that there even is something so much more, never mind being able even to conceive of getting to it.

The boredom isn't better than this, but at least it can be escaped. At least it isn't all there is until he's dead.


(He's doing them a favor when he kills them.)