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scientism embellished  the erudite aesthetic,  a darkened
            intent  even  fouler  than  those  currently  informing  the
            vintage deprivations behind the rusted machines. A strange
            assemblage of newer apparatuses hummed in an out of older
            counterparts—the  glint  of microchips  decorated  steam-
            powered  cuckoo  clocks,  server  banks  with  their  whirring
            fans and sprouts of wiring sat housed in old metal computing
            cabinets,  and robotic  arms of shining metal  replaced  the
            older stock of untoward utensils. All of the stuff occupied
            the very deepest regions of the cave of science, as if the
            superior depth were a metaphor for their cavernous range of
            deadly effects.
               After taking an actor’s bow to the applause of lunatics
            and tipping his tiny tin crown, the Prince of Wigs welcomed
            Hide and me to the  “Womb of  Wildest  and Darkest
            Rediscovery.” The spectacle was so wonderfully ridiculous
            that I nearly missed the figure standing atop the length of
            twisting stairs behind the crowned madman. The individual
            wore a pristine black apron overtop a neatly pressed suit—
            the type an alienist of yore might have been seen wearing
            while wandering the foggy streets of London. He also wore
            an impenetrable black veil over his face, its blackness broken
            only by a gleaming monocle anchored by a thin length of
            silver attached to a lapel.
               Continuing in the same preposterous tone and manner as
            before, the royal wig proceeded to introduce the figure atop
            the stairs. “Allow me to introduce to you a man who will
            replace the secret stars to their rightful owners, return voice
            to the silent stones, and once again allow madness to replace
            mathematics.  I  give  you  the  great  and  glorious  Doctor
            Coldglow!”  Again the lunatics yelped and hooted their
            approval. I clapped heartily, as I found the entire show quite
            pleasing. Also,  I’m  no  admirer  of  mathematics—numbers
            are exasperating and off-putting.
               In  the  fashion  of  a  carnival  barker,  Doctor  Coldglow
            assumed the spotlight with great aplomb, his voice
            326 | Mark Anzalone
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