The day the leaves fall from the ginkyo is a day of transformation -- he told you himself.

Whatever makes him weep, it's not from the past year -- it runs much deeper.

He traces the veins on the back of his hand, under the thinning skin.

He clearly doesn't believe that's possible, even as he says it.

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING AND PASSIVE LEARNING.

The one that you carry.

Rivalled only by the gun you must acquire.

Across the whole universe, it is humans that actually end up being the unnatural ones.

Can't be complaining about the state of another gäng's territory. That's bad form.

Tempo had that effect on his surroundings. Often spoken about, rarely seen -- unless he had a use for you.

It won't do him much good. His body's reaching the point where aches and pains are par for the course.

Your fingertips crawl with sensation, craving the flaky scalp.

PSEUDOPOD wouldn't have been here a while ago.

Technical talk for a landline. It's connected to the network by copper wire.

The last bastion of an antiquated system. He speaks of it like a beloved relic.

A single thread, fraying.

He shouldn't be telling you this.

Bitemarks and ignorance. The downfall of many a ship.

You may have been on ice for five years but the inexorable march of progress certainly has not.

The result of non-competitive bidding and a bit of self-dealing on the part of the city's governing elite.

Naivety like this is the problem. Healthy competition is what pushes technology forward and society along with it.

The way he said 'service'... like he meant...

He really wants you to believe that.

Every path to her erased, like an ancient treasure being guarded.

A feeling you know well enough.

What he says doesn't add up. The logic is broken.

Whatever he's hiding, it isn't pleasant... It destroyed something in him.

Technical words that only mean something to those with the prerequisite knowledge.

Arteries. Rivers of blood. Coursing under all.

A man stood on a cliff's edge, constantly expecting even the ground to fall from under him.

Seems he has the shakes. He should never have applied for the job, though actually been given it.

He's right. The only reason you should be breaking rules is when it is required to complete the assignment.

You don't need his guidance. Wires and cables are the same everywhere and you are their master.

A shame. Some pointers on how to improve your technical know-how wouldn't go amiss.

If anything, his prior experience may be making this job more difficult to adjust to.

With a gäng, you can go anywhere you want.

The man stands like jelly next to you.

The well-greased cogs of your mind yearn for the challenge.

Old technology is one of the few places the past can still be touched.

The disc blooms like ruby flowers in the reflection of his lenses.

You sense a change behind his eyes. A decision has been made.

He longs to return to lost company. Old gäng.

Even if he doesn't like it, his position gives him purpose, direction. Sometimes that's enough.

Sounds like our man here is missing out on having a gäng to confide in.

Invisible kisses from the lips of the city.

You don't need interests to make you interesting.

Your obsessions and secret passions have saved you more than once, and may yet again.

His face seems to say: 'but not if this job carries on the way it is'.

No need when your body language matches a spider as it stiffly curls up into a ball to die.

Old memories.

The tail you cannot seem to shake.

THE LONG ARM OF THE PARTY.

The memories of your own past claw away inside you.

Snarling beasts! Ripped flesh. Teeth, eat, screaming!

He means to insult you. But he has manners enough to get your permission first.

His insult does nothing. You are a steel wall that cannot be affected by mere words.

OFFENCE USED AS DEFENCE. AN ACCEPTABLE RETALIATION.

It hurts because it's true.

He grimaces, wearing the same look as when you asked him about the moon.

It's not so bad when you've got your gäng to back you up.

His soft heart has had to learn to nestle among wilder things.

It's locked away deep inside, far away from the surface that he's comfortable presenting.

Both minerals used to put the juice in batteries.

You see the pity for the miners in the man's eyes. Men and women drying out inside barren rock, the billowing dust steadily making them blind...

He hid it well. What else could he be hiding?

Either you're still thawing out from your time in the Freezer, or this guy is much better at disguise than he would seem.

Burned to the inside of his eyes.

At least we'll never be alone. Gäng is forever.

The planet's surface may blister, but the clay beneath remains ever mutable.

Something happened on the moon, something he will never be able to face again.

Detecting low levels of 'It' here. Seems his return hasn't solved that particular problem at all.

La Luz. Once a powerful empire, now reconstituted as a modern techno-fascist state, the rising military and cultural power of the day.

Mention of La Luz never fails to make your hairs stand attentive.

Luz. Techno-fascists. Enemy.

No satisfying pleasure from untwisting a tangled braid of cords? No fun at all.

It cannot be overstated how important it is for you to not go around telling everyone you meet that you're a trained professional.

The Auto-Negotiator hums in your hand. You can practically feel the little magnets spinning inside.

Sadness fills his movements, like a sludge.

Unlikely to be a coincidence that he's now occupying a place of reflection.

Something's up. This is a distraction.

As if expecting a miracle to materialise before him.

A familiar dolphin logo on his shirt, peeking out above his arm.

Renotel. A diversified communications company local to the state of Portofiro. Immediately recognisable by its dolphin logo.

That device he's carrying is some sort of all-in-one tracker and intercommunications device. State-of-the-art, wireless, a modern wonder.

That thing he's carrying has got buttons, a little antennae... that's a grade-A thingy, alright.

A familiar dolphin logo on his shirt, peeking out above his arm.