The smile of Fabenouw the inventor, when he left his atelier that day, was heavier with menace than ever before. The citizens of Werdecu expected that sort of thing and thought nothing of it, a complacence which aided him in his scheme.
"Neighbors!" he called out. "This is my latest invention, the camera! It takes a picture of whatever I point it at! Limitations apply."
The city folk whistled and admired the object he flourished. They took his achievements more seriously than his attitude. "Is it expensive to operate?"
"A little pricey, but nothing unmanageable."
"Is it as good as Master Magonim's portraits?"
"Not yet, and that's why I want your help in developing it further. Wasn't it kind of Master Magonim to promise every one of us a portrait for free? Even though he warned it wouldn't be his best work, think of how much he's losing because of his charity. Now once this camera is better . . ."
The novelty would have been enough, but with the prospect of helping the generous Magonim added, the citizens rushed to participate. They even brought Magonim over despite his protestations. He struggled a little like a man of true humility.
Fabenouw chuckled with satisfaction when he retired to his atelier, but soon his wicked contentment succumbed to shock. "This one too! And this one! And him! Where are their souls? Does my camera not work after all?" Feverishly scanning his developed pictures, he grew increasingly agitated until one of them made his mood explode. "He already took them! Magonim! He has all their souls!" The inventor tore apart the portraitist's resemblance while he imagined greater tortures than that.
Finis
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