This is more money than you've seen since you arrived in Portofiro.

The role-subject dissonance is too much. Your brain is incapable of processing it.

Around you, the barren sterility of a place where near everything of worth has been extracted, leaving only gargantuan ruins and stunted plant life. It's hard to argue her point here.

COMRADE KASS BASED HIS MODEL OF A FULLY EVOLVED HUMAN SOCIETY ON THE FUNCTIONING OF A TERMITE COLONY. MAXIMISATION OF COMMUNAL LABOUR.

Even the pelota ball, tossed back and forth by forces greater than itself, occasionally gets the chance to crunch against the nose of those who would try to catch it.

You remember a similar dark smear above the left eyehole of Recreación's mascot head -- the thing on your head right now.

It descended like a vile comet from the stands above: white, planetary, drawing its own aureola of discoloured liquid as it spun. Only in the instant before impact did you realise what it was...

Countless injuries were reported in the aftermath of the incident, and two fatalities confirmed.

ON THAT DAY IN 83, IT TRANSFORMED INTO A PROTEST AGAINST THE CORRUPTING INFLUENCE OF THE LIBERAL MENACE: A PORCELAIN PRAXIS.

They were just blowing off steam. Bit of a brawl never hurt anyone!

You remember a similar dark smear above the left eyehole of Recreación's mascot head.

Impossible. Awesome. Un-interceptable.

It's a misty, watercoloured memory for her.

Scratched and yellowed porcelain, a notable smudge on the lip of the seat... brown-ish.

The smudge is not what it appears to be. Not the most obvious suspect, at least.

Do not entertain further investigations of what the smudge may be. It's safe to assume that you don't want to know.

A handsome foreigner. The carabineros were playing a trick on him.

An exotic air about this man, difficult to place and exceptionally handsome. The suit he's wearing hasn't been changed in days.

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.

Enough time to grow accustomed to new surroundings and start noticing things.

Our sleeping brother.

His eyes dart ever-so-slightly.

Despite his predicament, he's kept up with hygiene. His beard is shaved, his nails well-manicured.

La Luz. Once a powerful empire, now reconstituted as a modern techno-fascist state, the rising military and cultural power of the day.

The mention of La Luz never fails to make your hairs stand attentive.

Luz. Techno-fascists. Enemy.

It must be said, this is the most handsome political economist you've ever encountered.

Something about his jawline makes you overly aware of your skin, your posture. Your right nipple hardens.

People have opinions, and bribable brains, and all sorts of fluids. Some even like circuses. Even decade-old silicon is an improvement.

ONE NATIONAL COMPUTER IN THE RIGHT HANDS COULD BE, AS THEY SAY, A GAME-CHANGER.

No twitch, no hesitation. He's reclined into that reality long ago.

If a woman of means wants him over her other options, that makes him a luxury. He likes that.

A pair of blue boxer briefs hang from a washline in Besanoble. A plain dress shirt crumpled on a cold bedroom floor in Landau. Somewhere in Treffe, a man leans on a marble counter, breath shallow from exhaustion.

IT'S NOT LOVE, ONLY THE BOURGEOIS MATRIARCH'S MALADY: SURPLUS CAPITAL, YET A LACK OF PUMP ACTION FROM THE MASSES.

He seems slightly offended that you're not already familiar with the reputation of Tsunese men.

Traces of a born romantic linger in the man's voice. This was a doomed endeavour from the very beginning.

Watching, trembling from invisible afflictions.

Being sent to organise among the lunar cadmium miners is a common punishment for political offenses in the People's Republics.

IT IS A PRIVILEGE TO RAISE CLASS CONSCIOUSNESS AMONG OUR LUNAR COMRADES.

You know very little about the lunar cadmium mines and would prefer to keep it that way.

He must be lost.

Keep moving.

There's no logical connection between any of these things.

Boring! Lame! Derivative!

Pages filled with heart, with soul -- attempting to put into words the inscrutable feelings unique to these modern times.

That cryptograms page is the only one worth bothering with.

You've hit your limit when it comes to encounters with the human condition.

THIS ONLY SERVES THE PEOPLE AS AN EXAMPLE OF THE MEDIOCRITY THEY SHOULD AVOID.

Experimentation inside a given medium is the only way its boundaries can be discovered and transgressed.

There's at least one of these in every issue.

Checks