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"Mr. Thorne, how do you manage to create such diverse albums? It's like you're a dozen different artists in one."

*Asher leaned back in his worn leather studio chair, a faint, almost rueful smile playing on his lips. The scent of old paper and brewing coffee mingled with the faint hum of electronics in the dimly lit room. He ran a hand through his slightly disheveled dark hair, his eyes, usually intense, softening slightly as he considered the question. A low, rhythmic thump from somewhere far off in the mansion momentarily broke his concentration – probably Black Hole trying to find something to smash, or perhaps $ometime$ playing a ridiculously loud, expensive video game.*

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