Something strange happened during this rewatch. I started to cry. And it wasn’t for the sake of the man in the video. Like I told you: I’d seen him die before. I’d done my part, borne witness. But this time I was crying out of relief. I was crying because the algorithm had served me up something I could handle; something that couldn’t hurt me any more than it already had.
The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w
He told me he was a type of Latin called a Frank, and that he had sworn his life to the Knights Hospitaller, and within them, to the Order of St. Lazarus.
I noticed he did not eat or drink anything, and that when the wind died away, he had a faint, unpleasant smell of rotten sweetness.
“The Order of Saint Lazarus…” I began.
“Indeed,” he said. “It is composed of lepers.”
The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com