This man sold his country for gold, and laid her under a tyrant’s sway; he set up and pulled down laws at a price; this other forced his daughter’s bridal chamber and a forbidden marriage; all dared some monstrous wickedness, and had success in what they dared. Not had I a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths, and a voice of iron, could I sum up all the shapes of crime or name over all their punishments. —Virgil, Aeneid XLVI WE PASSED THROUGH THE ruins swiftly and approached the Colosseum. It was lit up like a cheap festival attraction. Now, instead of faux clouds and holographic pillars, Aquilinus had opted for a theme of damnation and fire. Beyond the entrance, a long stone tunnel led to the bright lights of the arena. Julius Gemminus’ winged head appeared above us again. “Welcome, welcome to the final round! Our arena spectacular! Emperor Aquilinus is proud to present the Arena of the Old and New Gods!” Those very words lit up the sky above the arena in letters of fire. I snatched up a spear from the chariot’s arms locker and climbed down to the ground; the vehicle was too wide to fit through the tunnel.
