"For Christ's... no, not knitted booties. Chain-sandwiched-between-thick-leather booties. What in good hell's use would knitted booties be?"

Summer nights in Beijing were brutal: hot, muggy, the air thick as the puddles left on the road after a shower, covered in iridescent patches of gasoline. We felt like dumplings being steamed, slowly, inside the room we were renting.

The Thin White Duke grips the Motorhead's shoulders, grinning askance, a twinkle in his mismatched eyes. “They will learn. Their fear and anger is the worst of them; let us take the very best of them, their art and their passion and their creativity! We can show them how to live as their true selves, and how to accept others for their true selves. We will make them ready!”