Dave

I don’t do this for the fun of it. It’s true that curiosity compels me, but there are deeper reasons. In my case, it’s not the hunting instinct. It’s a test of darkness. You won’t see me if I do my job right. I have slipped into the darkness. Why? Because I’m suspicious of what goes on in the darkness.

While I’m prowling I make sure that everything is right. It’s a drive for justice. It’s also self-validation. Can I still do it? I’m like a stage magician whose trick is to disappear from the stage. Like a blind man, my sense of hearing is heightened. I can hear distant footsteps, or somebody’s breathing, or the softest touch of a finger on a light switch.

Maybe I’m shy. Years of living by myself have diminished my confidence in relating to others. I feel better if I avoid social interactions. Because of what I do, I’m suspicious. I don’t believe that people are basically sinful; I know that they sin more frequently if their actions are cloaked by goodness or shrouded by darkness.

There are more ways to disappear than you see in the movies. Once I was prowling an old warehouse when a light came on. If I had been wearing spandex and a mask with cat ears, I would have been apprehended and reported. But I was dressed to blend in—a ragged coat and hat, worn shoes, five o’clock shadow. I opened a small vial and suddenly smelled like urine and vodka. I lay down as if I were asleep.

You don’t always know, from looking at someone, whether they’re a devil or an angel. That’s why it’s always better to treat others with respect. You can tell people’s character by their attitudes toward the homeless, the immigrant, the drug addict, the poor.

I don’t ask for credit. Say I save someone’s life. Praising me doesn’t change that. So nobody else needs to know. I have a higher calling.

You won’t see it happen. You don’t want to. But if there’s one fewer, let’s say, “rat” in the alley at night, that’s a good thing.