"In my more optimistic moments, I can imagine the phone
ringing. I can imagine an anonymous email or a single sheet of paper
slipped under my door. I can imagine the Smoker's ransom demand.
And then I can't. Because I've got nothing to trade.
Sure, I'd sell my soul, but how much is that worth? There was a time
when it might have attracted a few bidders, but there's no one left."