There was a philosopher called Diogenes who carried a lantern around, searching for "one honest man." He never found one. Nobody has a soul; nobody is real. That is our code. We live like Diogenes, searching for one honest man, one with a soul, one who we can rely on. If one does care to become honest and pure, dwell Central Park when night has fallen. The bald man or I might decide to converse with you. Make appointments with us, and have absinthe and opium ready. You may be lucky enough to become pure, to become true, to live honestly, and to live no longer.