He settled himself near the stage set up beside the station where the last ceremonies would be taking place. It was there Handy saw more photographers than he had even seen since coming to this world. Most of them were similar to those ancient flash cameras you saw in old movies, with the tall stands filled with a heap of powder and a cover for the photographer's head. Surprisingly, most of them didn’t have a tripod to hold them up, but were rather held to the photographers by a simple harness around their neck. Hell, he even saw one that was made of wood—must have been some poor desperate paper slate that wanted a piece of the story.