A.Journal

Checks

Easy

Startled by the sound of her own joy.

Trivial

Could explain why Dr Hugo dislikes Septimus so much. His daughter's living in an old doss house.

Medium

A stolen keyboard watches the underside of the thief's bed. Alone but not forgotten, it develops rust.

Medium

'FEEDBACK PARTIES'? SHE MUST MEAN COMMUNAL IDEOLOGICAL STRUGGLE SESSIONS.

Trivial

Luzian stuff? La Luz is a techno-fascist state. Are they jackbooting on music now?

Medium

A loose wind rattles the window fittings in a long-deserted building.

Trivial

Her voice explodes with enthusiasm, a register so long lost to her that it crackles a little as it erupts.

Medium

Thud, thud, thud. The War Drum's crowd thunders its beat.

Medium

LIBERALISM DESTROYED YOUR DEN OF INEQUITY, FOOL.

Easy

She deflates at the change of subject, back to the misery of now.

Easy

Swish of a dirty-green cloak, dust flies up after it, blinding you. When you can see clearly again, the man responsible has disappeared.

Trivial

Also known to you as VIRTUE, your former asset and friend. Now confirmed dead, mostly for associating with you.

Easy

That's not 'no'.

Medium

Still not a yes. She's nervous, looking away, could get a discount out of it.

Easy

Local law enforcement is far beneath you in effectiveness and influence. No need to lower yourself, operant.

Trivial

Also known to you as VIRTUE. Your former asset. Currently out there somewhere, waiting for you to realign once more.

Trivial

Carabineros: Portofiro's sanctioned police investigators. They report directly to the Prefectura and deal in actual crime -- murder, grand larceny, rape.

Easy

Under the thick hoodie, her eyes are fixed on a single point to the west.

Medium

Psyching herself up. Gathering her gäng.

Formidable

No matter how terrible reality might be, it's better than the not-knowing.

Medium

No longer can she live with the burden.

Medium

It's all that matters.

Formidable

If you don't get back on track, there's a chance you'll both end up in an EMTERR work camp.

Heroic

Or dumped in a mass grave...

Medium

The last words she said to him replay in her head.

Easy

She didn't believe you before. She does now.

Challenging

He'll fall if he can't see...

Trivial

No, but you've seen those glasses.

Easy

Tough blow. The one institution that's supposed to take her seriously.

Medium

Frantic but resigned, exhausted by herself.

Easy

Anonymity is your most precious asset. Salvage what you can of its ruin.

Trivial

She's looking at your glasses.

Trivial

The ones on your face.

Easy

Her hood a burrow, she the mouse within.

Easy

This must be the party vendor the GM mentioned -- the one whose father has gone missing.

Trivial

She raises the photograph until it eclipses the bazaar in front of you.

Easy

This must be the girl the kids by the TV mentioned -- the one whose father was eaten by a payphone.

Easy

Unconvinced, unbothered.

Challenging

He's lying, maybe even to himself.

Challenging

The mangled remains of an aborted paternal instinct have congregated around that two-headed horse like homeless men around a trash fire.

Medium

Bureaucratic object permanence. Out of sight, out of existence.

Legendary

Easy

He's just a nudge away at the best of times. Push him.

Easy

The veins in his eyes pre-pop in anticipation of what's about to happen.

Easy

No reflexive blink or retinal follow.

Medium

For all neurological intents and purposes, he is deep in REM sleep, in the throes of an permanent nightmare.

Easy

Somewhere in the background, Gonza's monologue continues, heedless of any audience but himself.

Easy

Ramses said he'll need 'around half a day' to capture anything significant.

Easy

He must close shop at some point. That'll be your chance to sneak in and do the job properly.

Easy

A little bit of breaking and entering never hurt anyone.