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You won't forget this ever happened.

You remember this. The first bullet. Landau. Friends counting on you then too.

The words of the Metal Stripper return to you: 'Where is it? Where's the disc...?'

Just one of the neat tricks you've learned to keep yourself alive in-theatre. There are many others still to come.

Ignatz turns to you and grins his lopsided grin. "Wow, no time for your old friend after two years of nothing? Cold, Hershel. Hopefully I can live with this."

Khalti -- a Rustamian term of endearment for an older woman.

One of eight great trenches in the mapped world. Its edges run from the Telmaar Gulf to the Lioaran sea. Conservative estimates suggest a depth of twelve thousand metres.

Mimi Serafina is twenty seven years old.

Fringe health theorist, frowned upon by most medical bodies in the People's Republics and the Developed World. Owns dozens of 'wellness centres' across Tsun's Arc, and millions of followers.

By contrast, the international market for Proletfolk consists of five geriatric scenesters on a commune outside Capoblanco.

The former overseers of Essilk #3 stood at this very window, studying the movements of the dye workers, looking for any signs of disturbance.

After her work attracted the attention of the Ministry of Mass Culture, Barcide was forced to flee for the relative protection of the Eastern Republics.

A hole in the collective memory that won't be noticed at first... but it'll be felt, sooner or later.

You've seen that name before, browsing at the newsstand while Tempo badgered and bartered over cigarettes.

EMTERR's personnel department. Infamous for their hands-on approach to quarterly check-ins.

Tritos 91. A highly-inebriated Operant CASCADE (schnapps count: ??) is pulled over for 'reckless tuk-tuk driving'.

The details are hazy. It was some years ago, you were in the city for work, he pulled you over for something bad you'd done.

At the Novessa Greenhouse, you and the other would-be operants were trained on steel. There's something comforting in the familiarity.

Professionally? Low-triple digits, by the time they put you in the Freezer.

'Nestorismo' -- Nestor's personal brand of politics. It meant whatever he meant at that moment.

Part of the global Periphery, and not aligned with any of the major power blocs. It's estimated that about 20% of the world's telephone scams come from a single unmarked building on the edge of Tsun's Arc capital city.

Sometimes they try. There was a rather notable broadcast during Nestor's second deposement where Portofiro's top radio host called for that exact thing.

Sacrophobe coat -- the out of towner Kurt told you about.

Repository updated. All listed wolves have been memorised.

You were never told. No formal directive, no rationale. He simply appeared two days after you did, already briefed.

The last time you spoke was the day your network blew. You never called her back like you said you would.

The last time you spoke was the day your network blew. You definitely called her back like you said you would.

An insanely subsidised economy of illusions.

The few members of the Illuminated Empire allowed to expatriate find themselves in high demand throughout the Developed World as mercenaries and bodyguards.

Discrepency. What of the time-stamp from earlier? It was nested among redactions.

When Nestor's space program was abandoned, so was the Tract.

Former Supreme Leader Nestor cleared out an entire neighborhood to build the hub of Portofiro's space program 30 years ago. When the program was abandoned, so was the Tract.

Remember the box of dubbed martial arts tapes that one of your mother's 'work friends' smuggled in for you when he came to visit in 79?

There were reports of a ghost-site labour colony on Ile-de-Söze that the Opera took seriously.

Perhaps they're running a writer-in-residence program on the wasteland mesas of Ile-de-Söze.

Not since the crew dissolved and you left Portofiro.

A conversation. Fogged Mirror. Two gin cocktails, her regular table.

Immediately apparent in the copies she passed you. Annotated, pertinent sections marked with colour-coded flags.

Five years ago, he was one of the top experimental somnologists in the Developed World.

Gonza seemed pretty serious. But the speech also felt rehearsed.

'Plaything'? The immortal image of the 'thing' on the bed upstairs comes back to haunt you.

Not in the official literature? Interesting. Take notes.

You remember him saying that, a long time ago. Chant-like. A little ritual.

Sounds familiar... she's talking about Goat-Eyes, the lovelorn soul of many endeavours.

When you were sixteen you once put your blood type down as 'mysterious' in an attempt to impress a vaguely attractive doctor.

Not precise, no. But not a liar either.

'Ritual' brings up zero matches in the Tempo archives. Or any archives.

CASCADE: 'Are you sure it's okay to just... leave them behind, M?' CONTROLLER: 'They're assets, CASCADE.'

A new and strange crime added to your ever-lengthening rap sheet.

PORTOFIRO 91: Network DISSOLVED. 5 Assets and 1 Operant LOST. CASCADE: EXTRACTED. Competency rating: INDETERMINATE. Loyalty rating: INDETERMINATE.

131 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual