'Eszti Kavanaugh' -- it rolls oddly off your mind's tongue. 'Newitz' had a nicer syllabic flow...

Paycheque from the literary magazine, followed by several copies of the magazine itself. So somebody paid by them who doesn't care to read the mag...

Enough poetry. Move on.

A life sacrificed on the altar of her cover.

The danger isn't over for him. He's still waiting to see what you'll do.

Hook it right up to your pleasure centre, this is the good stuff.

Like you, the eternal stranger. All safehouses, no home.

Bands of rain continue to move slowly north and east across the region. Walks home expected to be unseasonably melancholic. North wind 5-8 kph, becoming calm after midnight.

Overcast skies incoming, bringing light rain and a strong tendency to see oneself reflected in the environment. Expect gusts up to 20kph.

Patchy fog in the morning expected to burn off yesterday's illusions. Increasing clouds, low near 9 degrees.

Education: University of Landau (Degree incomplete). Course of study: Modern economy (maternal pressure).

Preferred vices, mother: Nicotine, alcohol, 'diet shakes'. No known history of solvent abuse ('low-class').

No references found under 'mother' and 'abuse, physical' ('low-class'). 'Abuse, verbal' contains frequent references to 'withholding affection' and 'withering criticism'.

Speculative freelancing. Your old asset had no authority to make offers on behalf of the Opera.

HE CAN FIND HIS 'IMMUNITY' IN THE LUNAR CADMIUM MINES.

A romantic image drawn from postcards issued by the Tourism Bureau.

Slavering, savouring.

You can practically feel the fetid water sloshing about his feet.

You've exchanged the tyranny of history for the tyranny of the spreadsheet. A poor bargain.

FALSE, TECHNO-FASCISTS ARE ALWAYS EASY TO KILL. THE NAMES ARE SIMPLY THE TRUTH OF THEM.

Trapped between the old reality that created it and the new one it failed to bring about.

We would never... would we?

It dawns on you that you've delivered the punchline to a cosmic joke only he will understand.

OF COURSE, THERE'S NO DENUNCIATION LIKE SELF-DENUNCIATION.

Your would-be asset Ignatz used very similar language.

You can nearly make out the sound of sloshing water without the irony to muffle it.

The motif of dream-instruction recurs periodically throughout Mircean history and culture, most recently as a weight loss fad.

Your mother once tried it to keep her breasts from sagging.

A VISION OF HYPERKITSCH, TO BE RESISTED ON POLITICAL, MORAL, AND AESTHETIC GROUNDS.

Ejected from a helicopter over the Noscorrentes.

SOMETIMES THE PEOPLE NEED A VULGAR EXPRESSION OF POWER. FOR THEIR HEALTH.

Any recordings of the event would become highly sought collectibles for certain segments of regime insiders.

He phrases it like he's asking if you'll be over for tea next week. It doesn't hide his desperation.

Syllables -- mangled. Something in his mouth?

Suddenly, so quiet that it's almost imaginary, a muffled pounding answers from the other side.

The outline begins to ripple with colours, gestures, tones. The viscera of voice and name.

You can practically feel the gaffer up in the rigging, guiding the spotlight along your path.

Where is that 'subeditor'? When is she going to spring the trap?

No way out but through. The deal. You're here for the deal.

THE BLOODY HAND OF TRANSNATIONAL CAPITAL.

At the base of your skull, a tickle in your brainstem.

THE BANKER AND THE SECRET POLICEMAN IN PASSIONATE, TONGUE-HEAVY EMBRACE. THE PEOPLE'S STOMACH TURNS.

Enough chatter. Get out of this place while you're still able.

You can practically hear the fetid water sloshing about his feet.

A shift in his tone. Barely disguised concern.

Tactical misfire -- always leave yourself a clean exit.

Hemmed in. Not even a shadow to hide under.

Another piece of the outline begins to fill itself with colour and detail.

You picture your interlocutor, ankle-deep in dirty water, less than a metre away. He's not used to standing this long. He rests his arm atop the intercom's cool metal.

Your mind hums. Your inner eye awakens.

Checks