His body walks out onto the darkened stage , and a roar goes up from the crowd. He stands in front of the mic, and he can feel his face twist in a sneer-the Elvis sneer from his dreams-though he never told it to move. He is powerless now, a spectator at his own moment of glory.

And maps can really point to placesWhere life is evil now:Nanking. Dachau.

The enlightenment driven away,The habit-forming pain,Mismanagement and grief:We must suffer them all again.

Evil is unspectacular and always human,And shares our bed and eats at our own table ....

Suddenly, as one, all the Greys stop talking and gape at Christian. What? Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I've heard him sing before, haven't they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that's fallen over the room. Kate glances questioningly at me and I shrug. Christian turns on the stool and frowns, embarrassed to realize he's become the center of attention.'Go on,' Grace urges softly. 'I've never heard you sing, Christian. Ever.

I know nothing, except what everyone knows - if there when Grace dances, I should dance.