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His eyes are green. And very dry.

He's going to make you say it out loud.

Your name is the flood. Home turf. You have returned.

They wanted PSEUDOPOD to become Tempo's new handler. You were just here to smooth the transition.

You knew it all along. One of your people reached out for you.

He was hoping you could make sense of it.

So either under a lot of mental stress or seeing ghosts. This message could be critical. It could also be nothing but branches tapping a windowpane.

And from the other side, only silence.

Tempo called for help. For cavalry. For you.

Unless... he's in on this too?

Tell him to not go into that office himself. He shouldn't see.

This place was home for him, until now.

Post-mortem loyalties -- sign of a well-cultivated asset.

He doesn't have to like it, but his nights will be kinder for it.

He's trying to be polite and not point out you fucked it on your own terms.

Still, he'd bet on the flashy-jacket prick.

The roundabout's wide open. It'd be hard for a tail to not give themselves away.

It must be slain.

Probably, but not definitely.

The outline of a building, just past the roundabout.

He's convinced of it now.

The 'Decreto de Recaptura Cívica', a set of regulations from 81. Drinking age raised to 16, limits on public assembly, and stringent gun laws. All tied to 'stabilisation' packages arranged by EMTERR.

He turns his head briefly, as if hearing it now.

Long-dead hands carrying the hull, white fingers in the brine.

You know where this is going, right? You're not going to just walk into it?

Progress! Suspense! Quick, ask more!

INSIDIOUS IMPERIALISM. TODAY, THE SOFT POWER -- TOMORROW, THE HARD.

A big gäng where no one's your friends, and there's always more palms to grease.

A tinge of grief flutters past his face.

FIRST THE BOOKS, THEN THE CUPS.

Not that he minds.

Resin on the seams, hairline cracks across the hull. Someone's been fighting to keep it alive.

THUS BEGINS A GREAT STRUGGLE AGAINST INERT MATTER. ALSO EXPLOITATION.

A small seed of him, sprouting.

ON A POSITIVE NOTE, YOU ARE NOW MORE SELF-REALISED THAN EVER.

It won't always be like this. Eventually, you'll learn to dissociate better.

But he's aware you're here.

Fast reply! Definitely awake.

Must be cataract glasses. He's visually impaired. Maybe mentally impaired also.

Starting on their personas at such a young age. Impressive.

So this headphones guy acknowledges the regency of Ultra Violeta.

In their minds, completely unable to conceive of anyone who would want to bring harm to their idol, the only possible explanation is a romantic one.

PSEUDOPOD didn't seem like a suicide, but he was listening to the UV disc when he died.

A lot of people would.

FETISHISING THEIR COLONISERS.

Auditory hallucinations? Teenage hysteria?

Last chance for peace, through gritted teeth.

Solid reasoning, regrettably.

You don't recognise the song.

2,903 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 6 of 59