The Executioner's Art

Thirty years of hiding have buried nothing

A mysterious man is found sandblasted to death and nobody seems to care. With a coroner's report reading, "It is clear that death was far from instantaneous. It would have taken many minutes, if not an hour or more to inflict damage to the skin sufficient to allow an apposite loss of blood," this is a particularly gruesome murder—even for Sheffield, a dark and gritty city of steel where rivers disappear. The police investigate the murder—and then destroy evidence and lie to the press about what they found. This offhand attitude towards justice—and the murder's sheer brutality—impel Dr. Tilt towards the funeral on Stillgate Hill. There is only one other man there, and when asked why he came, his response is, simply, "I had to make sure he was dead." Thrust into the "victim's" past, Dr. Tilt is forced to consider some uncomfortable questions, such as: Can retribution ever erase the suffering of past injustice? Where is the difference between victim and murderer? and What is this strange sculpture in flesh?