He felt as if he were watching a story unfold before him in holos, and was 
curious to find out what would happen next. He seemed to have stumbled onto a 
kind of arc in Kathryn Amij’s life. The next card he slipped in was from ’41. A
nearly supernatural image appeared: Kathryn in a hospital bed, surrounded by 
flowers. She smiled for the camera, almost as winningly as when she’d been a
little girl. In fact, she seemed genuinely happy. But her face was a death mask, 
a skeleton frame with skin stretched taut over the bone. The holo transfixed 
him. He stared into her eyes, wondering what illness had made her waste 
away.