The sports arena Julie calls home is unaccountably large, perhaps one of those dual-event 'super venues' built for an era when the greatest quandary facing the world was where to put all the parties.

God has made us study partner. We need to talk about our project.

You know things are moving. You're changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?

I can no longer believe in any voodoo spell or laboratory virus. This is something deeper, darker. This comes from the cosmos, from the stars, or the unknown blackness behind them. The shadows in God's boarded-up basement.

The past is made out of facts...I guess the future is just hope.

I am Dead, but it's not so bad. I've learned to live with it.

Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting?