There will be no great-grandchildren for him. There will be no yearbook photo for some descendant to peer at, tracing their high cheekbones through flesh and photo as they flip through the pages. There will be no video tapes, no secret stash of letters. There will be no amber to pass on. It will die with him, like everyone around him will die, and all of their embarrassing high school stories, monuments, war crimes, and bullet...