So I live my afterlife. I am serious; I read a great deal and I drink sparingly. I teach, I research and I consult. I am well paid by students who have fathomed the mystery that is Carthage, and come to understand that they will need an actual education as well as whatever else they find here. I conduct myself with a scholar’s dignity, and I shall experience a comfortable prime and a long and well-respected dotage. I am on the faculty now—and while we may yet occasionally find some small physical consolation among ourselves, we dons, we do it generally in a far more sedate mode. Candlelit dinner at which other guests somehow fail to arrive, casual proximity and perhaps a little wine to unclasp the toga: mutual complicit seduction, all elegantly and discreetly Roman. One hardly needs theatrics like this.