A pompous-looking man in a 3-piece suit advances on her. "Now, look here, whatever you are," he says, giving her his best glare. "You've made a big mistake, coming ... here...."

His voice falters as he looks into her eyes. Instead of his reflection, he sees a dozen crying faces. Children. Their sobs tear at his heart.

Other faces join the children's. Men he had ruined with the stroke of a pen or a single phone call, or even a simple gesture and nod. Nameless, faceless victims of the slums: nameless, faceless, and voiceless no longer.

He sinks to his knees with the force of their pain.