“Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn’t touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror—of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:

“‘The banner! The banner!’

“I turned the server off and left the site. The Kommentariat were yelling in the messy-room, and I took my place opposite Spilly, who lifted his eyes to give me a questioning glance, which I successfully ignored. He leaned back, serene, with that peculiar smile of his sealing the unexpressed depths of his meanness. A continuous shower of small trolls streamed upon the Twitter, upon the Facebook, upon our phones and tablets. Suddenly PFTCommenter put his insolent white head in the thread, and said in a tone of scathing contempt:

“‘Mistah KSK,,,he dead.’

“All the Kommentariat rushed out to see. I remained, and went on with my dinner. I believe I was considered brutally callous. However, I did not eat much. There was a lamp in there—light, don’t you know—and outside it was so beastly, beastly dark. I went no more near the remarkable man who had pronounced a judgment upon the adventures of his soul on this earth. The voice was gone. What else had been there? But I am of course aware that next day the Kommentariat buried something in a muddy hole.”

–Michael Tunison, HMS UPROXX