"Do you imagine that simply because one madman is gone, there are no more? Yes, Robespierre is dead. And Marat. Saint-Just. Hebert. But there are always more, waiting on the wings. History always throws off these power-hungry monsters. It's because of people like them that this little boy suffers." I think about another Max. And another little boy. I remember the future. "Maximilien R. Peters! Incorruptible, ineluctable, and indestructible! It's time to start the revolution, baby!" he shouted. I remember the other people who lived with him in the Charles. Poor people, damaged people. I think of how I walked past them every day, not seeing them, not caring. Until it was too late.