"Wasn't it you who created this festival, Lucifer?" Satan asked.
The screening of the first film had just ended across the city, and the crowds were flooding into the streets like a school of migratory fish.
"Only partially."
The festive moods, the energetic whispers, and the colorful clothes seemed to slow down the time for Lucifer.
It was as if he was looking at a sketch or one of those idyllic village paintings.
He could almost see the pencil outlines. How real was this world? And how false was this moment?
"I never meant it, really," he continued. "It was an accident."
"Ah, that film, you mean?" Satan nodded his head in contemplation. "Culture and Collapse."
"Yeah…"
The devil could still recall the memory as if it were yesterday.
"Gene Conti," he muttered. "From the moment I met him, I thought he was an interesting person."
Satan bobbed his head in agreement.
