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Recall the Advanced Cognitive Manoeuvre: 'Subdue'.

Orlavin-3 is a hybrid psychotropic, capable of inducing paralysis-grade calm while forcing vivid, inescapable hallucinations.

You may remember him from such court cases as 'CAMPF VS. SANTOS ELECTRONICS LLC' and 'CAMPF VS. STATE MARRIAGE LICENSING BOARD.'

Doesn't seem familiar.

You've seen yourself like this before.

In the Portofiran plushie scene, some of the knock off labels have become their own commodity, almost as sought after as the real deal.

Not vigilant enough. Either of you.

One of the reasons, he told you, that he always took the nasal route with his blow: concerns about receding gums.

Somewhere within: A hard drive of perfect memory, each scene evenly catalogued and ready for playback.

'Boundaries are illusions; everything looks back.'

The sequence of the numbers is rhythmic, almost rhymed. You commit all three to memory and archive them away.

Two rows of hieroglyphics would have been easier to memorise. At least those have pictures.

The sequence of the numbers is rhythmic, almost rhymed. You commit all three to memory and archive them away.

Two rows of hieroglyphics would have been easier to memorise. At least those have pictures.

Acuerda -- a coastal city of the Illuminated Empire's mainland. A corrupt commercial centre functioning as the launchpad for Luzian goods, directed at the Developed World.

TEMPO DEL SUR: I heard some stuff over in Cicatriz F. It got me seeing pictures, Hersh. This thing, when it hits... new world order.

Holiday memories of your mother, struggling with an antenna, trying to access foreign cartoons -- through the static, glimpses of a shaggy, vintage vagina.

Where do you recognise that gesture from?

Your recall the THWACK of foot making contact with his forehead. He looks hurt, lost. His glasses are on wrong.

Your memories make you who you are, you memory-killer.

No references found. Probably some kind of sportscar?

You recognise the name on the disc -- Eloísa Alba -- from the 'Weaponised Boredom' section of Petre's music stall. In other words: 'free jazz'.

You'd remember a name that stupid.

Tanka Hônen survived his assassination of East Kodian opposition leader Reido Saiji, whom he shot twice with a homemade firearm at a train station opening ceremony.

Archive yields zero results, bar a few unsolved mysteries where the perpetrator was never uncovered.

Supposedly, The Vessel was disgusted by the practice, but eventually ceded as a political gesture to earn the support of the traditionalists in the Shogunate.

Where do you know him from?

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

You once heard an old hand say that the tortured walk their own province.

Day 523, row unknown: sighting of a senior operant dusting the spines of cloth-bound logbooks. Hands: trembling, liver-spotted. You kept moving.

Solar Point: a small coastal area of Lágundi, a Luzian colony famous for luxury tourist resorts.

Melita's voice in your ear: 'The Bank will always deal'.

Famous for sterile logistics, tax-flexible exports, and a stunning aversion to political alignment.

HOLOCENE has never once lied to you. As far as you know, at least.

The gaps in his remembrance are more detailed than most people's actual memories.

You are reminded of certain religious teachers of your childhood, who wore traditional silk raiments all year round.

However, due to a loophole in the city code, the canals aren't technically a part of Portofiro.

Formal term for one of various conditions that up until a few decades ago were known collectively as dying of old age.

This must be where Project OKEANOS was run -- a secretive EMTERR program, meant to breed dolphin-human hybrids.

Where have you heard of The Civilisation Trust?

The image forces its way back to you -- the man's unblinking, obsessive stare, while on the bed Ramses convulsed uncontrollably.

A pseudo-language stretching back centuries, cobbled together from imperial slang and colonial patois. You first learned of its existence after joining the Opera.

You recall the faint clinking of glasses, just a few metres away.

Even you have memorised the names of their cartoon wolves.

'It is a good thing yesterday was not the end of history after all.'

You remember the first batches of number, at least. The right combination must be among what's left.

Numbers... Blurry... Must try everything again.

You roughly remember where you stopped last time. Whatever's left, you'll have to try all over.

The same 'heroes' who dropped Berrion bombs on the Tenantries of St. Ulwen.

56 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual