Portrait of Zoltan Abbassid, on a wanted sign. Somehow, some incoherent target-maker making his way across time has his eyes on Abbassid, in echo of an older anger that perhaps never had expression (however, with a million universes able to fit on a pin these days, bad things not happening here are surely happening somewhere else, and since there isn't far from here, considering we're talking distances from point to point on the tip of pin, There Is Here and the bad thing is happening now).     They would show me my victim at the moment of the kill.