“This is the new reality,â€? he said to no one in particular.

“History will not judge you kindly,â€? I said.

He paused, only to dismissively huff and turn to face the window. This new reality still had light and dark though there were shifting shadows.

“Am I a pontiff if I don’t pontificate?â€? he asked. Again, it was as if wasn’t there, chastising him towards some semblance of morality.

The pregnant pause gave birth to laughter, first from him and then from me. Our voices echoing to a roar until the room’s exotic tapestries swallowed them, made them alien and inhuman.

I fumbled through the folio looking for an exit. I found myself at the barrel of a gun, not in a clause or attachment as I had been expecting.

“This is the new reality,â€? he said to me, distinctively, enunciating each syllable as though he were speaking some foreign language. Or speaking mine perhaps for the first time.

I felt myself slip uneasily into blankness, an unseen assailant blunting me towards the nightmare.

“Sweet dreams!â€? he hissed.