The dreams of Frankie and the gamers, indeed anyone who patronizes The Vamp, have become Technicolor nightmares. Aidan, if he knew, would not understand. He sees the world in black and white, for him there are no colors, tints, hues, or even shades of gray. His world is as stark and clean as a wood cut. Divisions are absolute. He sees details without gradation, particulars without nuance. The world holds no mystery, sorrow or joy. His father’s DNA, with its confusion of color, lust and longing, its bewilderment of desire and fear, lie dormant within him. They provide only protection from the sun, an interior umbrella of humanity.