When someone engineered the deaths of a few dozen people, it was Duvall’s experience that they often wanted to tell. Some were ill with grief and horror, and they needed to confess, the way someone with a stomach bug might need to vomit. It was the only way to expel the sickness that had built up inside them. Others were proud of themselves. They wanted to brag on the clever thing they had done to pulverize twenty or thirty human bodies into small blackened bits.
