The courtroom was growing dimmer and shadow had engulfed the dandified mien of the former emperor. The man from the Friesenbergeralpe road, the goat man, was still out there and no one was even looking for him except for another solitary man in the vastness of the mountains. In fact, it wasn’t the machinery of justice that frightened Phillipp most anymore, but the machinery of time, winding events among its cold coils, cogs, and spindles, winding many things into being all at once and all at once taking them back again, into the interstices of the machine, where everything vanished, never to be seen again or ever to be understood.