"That's because the dead can't hear the requiems that we sing to them. They're peaceful because you weren't there to witness their destruction."

The projector turned on, and one of the pieces that Howard had discussed during the lecture appeared before Dylan. The archaeologist put his hand on his hip and smiled. He tapped at the board behind him, his figure cast a long shadow on the projected work. It all returned to the past. It all returned to what came before.

"Do you think the corpses and skeletons left behind by this war are at peace more than you and me? That's pretentious, but it's a beautiful thing to dream."

The monitor flicked off, and Howard clapped Dylan on the shoulder. He didn't know anything about the man's past. He wasn't aware of Dylan's past with his father, his time spent working in offices, or his struggles as a former student. All he saw was a man who was chasing something. A dream, an ideal, a goal. Those were admirable.

Howard could not fault Dylan.

"I wish you the best on hunting down this 'green slime'. I've never heard of such a phenomenon. Tell me about it if you ever find a sample." Howard said as he shouldered his briefcase. "I teach here pretty often."

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dylan sayer