Las Vegas, Nevada, Traverse Point, today. Gilbert woke up from the shaking hand of the dumpster. He looked at Dumpster's right hand, occupied with a bloody finger, which would not stop writhing under his grip. "Lar Surtana!" Dumpster said in a language Gilbert had just heard moments before but didn't understand. The finger stopped moving, the blood turned a dark, muddy black color and crystallized into powder. In Dumpster's left hand was a small wand the size of a very long pencil. The end stopped glowing blindingly white, reduced to the bright red glow of an ember. He dropped it next to Gilbert. Then he noticed the little blue bird coming out of the dumpster's jacket pocket and up to the shoulder of the dumpster. The bluebird trembled and feathers flew everywhere. Strangely, the bluebird was no longer blue but multi-colored. “A bird that changes color,” Gilbert said. “Wow.” Dumpster nodded. Gilbert studied Dumpster as he stood up. It looked clean again, like before when the sunlight filtered through the glass bottle while it sat in the dumpster. Previously, when he exclaimed, this visual change happened because...