Burning the image into the gelatin silver of her amygdala.

She recognises no neighbours -- only potential threats.

Reports from Operant PROBABLE suggest that 'Proyecto PESCADERA' was aborted in early 78 after one of the study's dolphins developed a violent sexual obsession with his trainer and committed suicide by sinking to the bottom of his tank.

Heart-in-throat, crumpled knees against cold linoleum. A deafening pulse inside the skull. Oblivion oozes through the doorframe.

Even if he's not the man she knew anymore, she doesn't know if she can bear to see him hurt again.

She knows.

Failed artist types always have a few pale downward shots of their own genitals stashed somewhere. She's seen it.

The darting eyes, the hunched posture, the furtiveness -- she was watching for a watcher.

There are no spies contained within this photo.

Staring at photos all day doesn't make her a student of the human condition, just another species of voyeur.

Are you two speaking about the same show?

Where do you know him from?

Four hearts, four points of light, waiting for you to draw the constellation between them.

AN IRREVERSIBLE BLOW TO ALTER THE WORLD'S AXIS. IT WILL TAKE CENTURIES FOR EQUILIBRIUM TO BE RESTORED.

A deeply off-putting answer, she thinks.

'Don't do it. If you do, I won't recognise you anymore.'

'Don't do it,' her voice says. 'If you do, I won't recognise you anymore.'

She has a copy of your pomegranate folder open in front of her. All your patterns and tells: itemised.

Yes! Crack them and gut them. Spend their offal on sweet pleasures.

There is something incredibly satisfying about making that 'nom' sound. You should do it some more, just to see what happens.

Something takes flight in your chest. She thinks of you.

REACTIONARY NOSTALGIA. THE YOUTH OF THE WORLD CRAVE THE DIALECTIC NOW MORE THAN EVER.

Pen at the ready, considering how she'll phrase the emergency extraction order.

Your smell, she thinks.

A forgotten beast, hibernating in your hippocampus stirs, raises its head and snorts.

She can be as sarcastic as she wants, doesn't change the fact that we're mega hot when we're being all deductive.

You are a cosmic mystery. Get up there, into the void. You could be the first to expose it as a fraud.

OPPOSE SENTIMENTAL FIGMENTS INCOMPATIBLE WITH A MATERIALIST WORLDVIEW.

Could say anything, though. 'Unauthorised speculating' or suchlike.

A matter of interest for the psychomancers, perhaps.

Deduce why the Opera sent you.

This has to be Reno's pied-a-terre. He's one of the only people in Portofiro who could afford this kind of luxury.

A camera!

HAS HE NOT CONSIDERED THE INTERNATIONAL SHAME THIS COULD BRING?

He's on the oüts. Not part of the in-crowd. What a löser, to not be told what everyone else already knows.

His voice cracks. The intercom pops.

Proper posh.

A whiff of fried shrimp layered under a pervasive antiseptic odour.

The call of the meat cannot be denied.

Look, his hair's a bigger catastrophe than usual -- he just stuck his head out of the window.

Wow. An under pressure phase. He really pulled it off, right when it mattered.

She knew you had it on you, and was looking for one thing only.

Perhaps an avid Einzeltone collector?

THE RESILIENCE OF A CREATURE BRED FOR SPACE EXPLORATION.

An odd smile -- there's something insincere about this woman.

That's a call and answer protocol, also known as a sphynx. He asks a question to which there is only one right answer.

Careful. You are not alone.

INCOHERENT LYRICS, NOT EVEN A DIRECT QUOTATION FROM THE PARTY. NOTHING HERE BUT GIMMICKS AND SEXUAL INDECENCY.

DECADENT AND SACCHARINE. AN OBSESSION WITH 'REVERB' THAT IS BOUND TO TURN REVISIONIST.

THERE IS NOTHING TO 'BUY'. IN THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLICS THE PROMULGATION OF IDEOLOGY IS TOO PRECIOUS TO LEAVE TO MARKET FORCES.

Checks