Narrator

A ladder hugs the edge of the canal, rust eating at its rungs. Darkened patches show where the water level has risen, lowered, then risen…

You're not going to just wear that boring, brown paper bag, are you? It's an insult to the rich tradition of facial ornaments.

The violet night comes on like a stain. The full moon makes its stately procession as, one by one, the first of the fixed stars reveal…

You stop and take the world in, a figure jittering on PAUSE. Nobody looks up. Nobody asks why you're here. Nobody waves.

The wind combs through yellowed grass. Around you, old foundations and half-built walls lean crooked against the sky.

A weather-worn building looms over you, its back to the road. Yellow-beige plaster peels like parchment, exposing old brickwork.

The control panel glows steadily, its purpose fulfilled.

Are we trying to fuck it?

The crumpled paper should crinkle in your hand, but it doesn't, stained with something rancid and dank.

You notice something in the corner of your eye...

The question before you is the same one that obsessed Operant PROBABLE during the period of their precipitous decline.

A Mircean background makes you a natural for in-theatre work across the Developed World.

Why would you deny that beauty is real? Why would you turn from the gentle sadness that is the passing of the world?

Does it make you feel powerful? To live so many lives in sequence and in parallel?

Nothing means what it seems to mean. In fact, safer to assume the opposite.

Pretty clever, isn't it?

You are a blast zone. A vast circle of scorched earth and human ash waiting to happen. Abandon all pretense to the contrary.

They say that, once, a whole tribe stumbled upon the valley during their winter migration, and they became enamoured with those plants --…

Looks like you're on your own. If you're going to believe in anything, shouldn't it be the friends you've brought along with you?

It's 96 now. There are still day labourers, and students, and soldiers, but they no longer burn calendars or shout slogans in the streets.…

Beware, CASCADE. You have seen how easily you can be shelved. As soon as your assignment is over, all bets are off.

It doesn't have to be so hard. You wrestle with the guilt, the shame. But if you just said 'the world did this to me' -- some of that…

Some say the Philosophical Spy is simply the Manus Fati's finger puppet. Others call it a walking massive depressive episode. But one thing…

Vending machines are basically a ten-thousand year old grift, you ever think about that?

The regular verbal acrobatics won't cut it anymore. Time to pull out the big guns -- Diplomatic Privileges.

Debt is platonic, Hersh. Big or small, it doesn't exist as long as you don't pay it.

Other people, they just go for it, but you, you like to keep something in reserve. Limit your exposure, you know?

You've an expansion now, Hersh. Revel in your success.

It all comes down to you, Repentful Spy. Ninety-six years of human suffering -- most of which you weren't even alive for -- it's time…

The track goes round and round forever. You can't escape its logic, so you may as well embrace it.

Absolute hostility on behalf of the infiltrator must be presumed. It is the only sane approach.

The world expands and contracts like god's lungs. Birds fall silent. The eternal circular march of clock hands grind to a halt, forming a…

Be the shroud the city needs. Walk the streets, snuffing out lanterns and hope. Be an acolyte of Gloom and spread the word.

How many full moons have you seen in your lifetime?

News from the crash site: Recovery crews have pulled a scorched orange box from the wreckage.

This line of work can be nothing but songs you sing to yourself between curtain calls.

Keep up your hardcore ways and they'll have you in a bulletproof box, facing a tribunal for the crime of 'getting results'.

Uhh... something's peeling underneath your chin, right there.

It's time to begin. Turn the scalpel inwards and then peer into the orifice you have made.

The world is yours, if you dare. The only thing stopping you is your ovine adherence to the rules.

What are you waiting for? Why put off your desires for abstractions like 'being able to afford it' or 'economic literacy'. Become a…

Muscle and metal, a compromise at your centre.

This is a template thought flow, the content is not set yet.

Everybody knows males are the top level. You're destined for mediocrity, the eternal supporting role -- just smile and accept it. Only…

When the drinks are poured out and shirts slowly unbuttoned, will it be your heels scuffing the parquet?

You. You are an animal. The divide between human and beast is an illusion, stops you unlocking your full potential -- your connection with…

Ever feel like you should be living your beliefs a bit more? Join a union, organise a protest, write a pamphlet? Start a reading group to…

You better hope that bullet comes fitted with homing capabilities, operant. You're betting everything on it.

Put on your seatbelt, Hershel. The future is here.