"Hersh."

"Hersh."

"Having fun, making friends?"

"Uh, guess so. The bartender's nice. It's been a while since I was out and around new people."

"Feeling a little agoraphobic?"

"Not at all. But I do miss my machine. I could be tinkering right now."

Stupid assignment getting in the way of the real shit.

"Sketching out some ideas in my head though. Something to look forward to when we come back..."

"You have torture scars, just show those off. Everyone knows scars are cool."

Wordlessly, she pulls down her scarf. The skin is thatched, thick with rootlike knots which creep down towards her chest. She lets go.

Nothing in her eyes.

"I don't think it looks very cool at all. But maybe I'll show them to the Lich before we kill him."

She says this pleasantly, her head cocked to the side.

"Septimus has been keeping you locked up. But no more -- K's back on the scene."

"He hasn't been locking me up, Hersh. I like it back there with my machine and he made it comfortable." She sighs. "I miss it, I could be tinkering right now..."

"About the assignment. I need to know now if there's anyone you won't work with."

"Uhh, no. Nobody."

It hadn't occurred to her that she would have a choice.

"I trust you, I'll follow your lead."

"Septimus must be upset that you're here."

"Yeah... We're, uh. Taking a break."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Thanks. I know he acts like a dickhead but he's just playing a character: Nestor's son. I won't miss that but... I will miss him."

"I don't really want to talk about it, Hersh."

"Don't worry, you can get back together if we live."

"I... yeah. Maybe."

"Good. He was a little bitch about this."

"He was. But... It's not really his fault. Growing up with Nestor did something to him. He can't drop the irony, the distance between himself and reality."

"Everyone responds to this kind of thing differently. And it's okay we just... can't be together."

"Do you want to keep your cosmonaut figurine?"

"I don't really know." She taps her pocket thoughtfully. "I think I'll throw it away."

She won't.

"Just wondered."

"Cool."

"Good, you should get rid of it."

"Yeah. I think so too. It's a shame, really. I used to love it so much..."

"I got it from someone who really liked it. Could give it back to him."

"Oh, yeah?" She smiles. "I'd love that. I used to... It used to mean a lot to me. It would be nice if it meant a lot to someone again. Here."

She takes one last look at the figurine, a thin-lipped smile on her face, before holding it out to you.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Take it to someone who can love it as a little space man again, free it from all the horrors of meaning."

"Thanks, K. He'll love this."

"I'm so glad. Thanks, Hersh."

"You look better. How do you feel?"

"Not since the last one." She shrugs. "I think my brain finally remembered how to turn off."

"Funny you ask... I did dream about that star-shaman again. He was alone this time, walking through a forest or a wood. I don't know the difference."

Alternative wording

"No star-shaman last night." She sighs. "I had a good dream. Or... it would have been good. I don't know."

Alternative wording

"Yeah. Another nice one. I was on a rowing boat at night with my cosmonaut figurine. But he was life size, rowing us gently around."

Alternative wording

"Hersh, yeah... I saw the star-shaman again. It was... Disappointing. I had started to think he might be real, that I was really seeing things from the past. Daft as that sounds."

"I got the sense that he was looking for something. He kept tossing those same bone dice into the palm of his hand."

A weathervane for the flow of fate.

"He must have been using them to speak to his gods."

"I... yeah, but. He's not real, is he? I hope not. I don't have time for anything like that right now. Not with the Lich and everything."

"If you see him again tell him to fuck off."

"Ahah, yeah." She narrows her eyes, thinking. "I don't think he can see me, though."

"Not that I think he's real or anything. Just dream stuff."

She does think he's real.

"Must be trying to tell you something. Can you guess what?"

"I think maybe I just studied the runescript for too long, it got lodged in my head funny."

"It was about Septimus."

Sex dream.

"Tell me all about it."

"We were..." She sighs, looks down. "We were in our bed up in the old projection room. Some old horror movie was playing..."

Boxes of popcorn on the floor around them, a stop-motion beast roaring flame. She laughs, he pulls her closer.

"We kissed... And I swear I could feel it. I climbed on top of him and... He wrapped his arms around my back..."

"Are you thinking of going back to him?"

"No. Not now. It would be cruel."

"Sorry, Hersh. Didn't mean to be such a downer."

She smiles and ruffles her hair, trying to shake off the dream.

"So you had a wet dream. Congratulations."

"Yeah. But... mostly with the crying."

"Your body longs for the evil male organ. You must resist."

"My body longs for him. And we're all fucked..."

"All women long for the male organ. We know we're incomplete without it."

"I don't feel incomplete. Just... really fucking sad."

"Your subconscious must be missing him."

"Yeah... And my conscious."

And her body.

And her body.

"I don't think I need to hear about that one."

"Yeah. I... it made me feel weird too."

"We were in the middle of the ocean, it seemed like. But it was peaceful. We spoke a lot."

A thousand stars reflected and warped in the black of his helmet, the edges of the universe all purple and blue.

"What did he say?"

"I... don't remember. Weird, right? I know we spoke. I think maybe it was about my dad or... he was my dad."

"I do miss the sound of water at night, sometimes."

"I was hoping for more about that shaman guy."

"I can't summon specific dreams on command, Hersh."

"And if I could then I'd go for the ones about Septimus."

"But he was standing on a ledge, looking out over a swampland. And... then I could see my equipment. My bootlegging machine, hulking in the water beeping and flashing."

A two-way mirror.

"Maybe it is real, he can see you too."

"I... hadn't thought of... that."

Horror in her eyes.

"He was so afraid of it, Hersh. I wish I could tell him it's okay." She frowns. "But... it isn't okay. They're all dead and the world they understood is gone."

"You still use those same sigils."

"Yeah." She smiles. "I do. And they work. I can't help but feel that we've forgotten something that we knew once about the world. How did they find those words, or invent them?"

Drugs.

"Anyway. I hope he's alright. Or... happily dead at least."

"That's not a bad thing. Time erases all failures."

"Yeah. I guess it is kinda nice to be reminded how small you are. No matter what happens here, something else will happen tomorrow."

"It could be that your equipment is a time traveler."

"Ha. Like it travelled forward in time to me, or it will travel back in time in the future from now?" She shrugs. "I'll make sure to write the sigil for 'peace' on there just in case it wanders off."

It's not going anywhere. It wouldn't leave her side.

"Suckers. Forget them, we'll be legends."

"I hope not. People will only know our names if we get caught, right? Maybe we can wait until we're old and almost dead anyway and then out ourselves."

"Destruction isn't all bad. We're trying to destroy a path of history right now."

"Yeah... Shit. But this guy was just... Shit what if he was a paleo-fascist shaman? He didn't seem like a paleo-fascist. But I suppose that's how they get you isn't it."

HER SHAM-MAN IS A BLACK ELEMENT. ALL MAGIC AND MAGE-ING IS REACTIONARY UNLESS IT WORKS.

"You don't think it means anything?"

"Not... that I can tell. It was just upsetting."

"Ah yeah, just creepy brain stuff."

"Yeah... It's just that he seemed so afraid of it. I wanted to tell him that it was okay, but I couldn't speak his language. I only know how to write the sigils, not how or even if they were pronounced."

She sighs and rubs her arm.

"But it isn't okay, is it? They're all dead and the world they understood is gone."

"Haven't slept since you last asked." She shakes her head.

"Weird. Like I'm on the wrong planet. I keep trying to control things with my mind like I'm still in the machine."

"And I'm dreaming again. I think."

Bet the tech hangover is making them vivid.

Or even making them real.

"Better not be losing your mind. I might need it."

"Don't worry. I have it on a yo-yo string, never gets too far." She smiles. "It's just been so long since I've slept that I can't tell what's a dream and what's... something else."

A hallucination.

A living memory.

A SYMPTOM OF LIBERAL PSYCHOSIS.

"You're remembering more of the interrogation?"

"No. Those dreams are gone for now. I hope they don't come back."

They will -- creeping in on padded feet, striking with a shiv to the spine.

"I saw a man in a tent filled with smoke. There were soldiers or hunters gathered around him, with spears. He was chanting. Like a star-shaman."

"Azzurri dream assassins. Trying to steal your secrets. Keep them out."

"No, this was way older. People were wearing furs; the tent was lit by flame in a pit."

The tent reeks of burnt meat and herbs. The Paleolithic huntress inhales, deeply. Her mind swims in blessed smoke.

"He threw what looked like dice onto the ground, but when he picked them up I saw they were bones. Each side carved with the runescript, just like I use."

"I didn't understand anything that they were saying but... they didn't like whatever the bones told them. It was like they'd been sentenced to death."

She's trying to seem detached, but she's clearly disturbed.

She's seen something true, if not real.

"Dreams are weird."

"Yeah, probably. It's nice to have dreams that are just mind nonsense again. Difficult not to look for meaning in them, but... it would be like convincing yourself you're hearing words in a cooling fan, right?"

Rhetorical question. She's undecided but you won't be able to push her one way or the other.

"What do you think it could mean?"

"Probably nothing... I don't know. It was so vivid that it's difficult not to look for meaning, but... it would be like convincing yourself you're hearing words in a cooling fan, right?"

"The dice rendering judgement for their sins."

"What could you even do to deserve death in the ancient times? You think they had paleo-fascists?" She laughs. "Who knows... maybe I'll see them again."

"This is undoubtedly a message from higher powers." Squint, mysteriously. "But which powers?"

"Mm. I don't know. Septimus mentioned that weird dreams happen when people go cold turkey off... whatever." She looks down. "I dunno. It's probably normal."

"I'd have grabbed a spear and skewered the fucker right there."

"Ahaha." She looks down. "Yeah."

"Maybe it's the script. You've given it a new future, so it's showing you its past."

"I wonder what they'd think if they saw my bootlegging machine. The shaman and the hunters, I mean." She smiles. "Probably just spear it."

"Probably just Septimus yelling in the foyer."

"No... it was an ancient language. Really clear. Old stuff. And they were wearing furs; the tent was lit by flame in a pit."

"Go on."

"They were wearing furs but not from any living animal. Thick brown and white stripes... The tent was lit by flame in a pit."

"What are you dreaming about?"

"Any more interesting dreams?"

"See you later." (Leave.)

"I'll be here." She nods.

"See you."

"Hey, Hersh."

Karolina still looks gaunt and tired -- but animated. There is an excitement to her movements, a flush to her cheeks.

She has a purpose.

"Hersh, are you ready?"

"Talk to me, K: I know you were picked up by the Weeping Eye when the Crew went down. Is that what all this is about?"

"Picked... up."

A sad little euphemism, a child's fiction. An unspoken and impossible hope that they might just put you back down.

"Is that what your nightmares are about?"

She looks down, unable to keep your gaze. Says nothing.

"I'm so sorry, K. I was meant to protect you and I failed."

"It's fine."

"I'm just glad you're alive."

She nods in agreement.

Unconvincing.

"It isn't. It's all my fault."

"No... It's fine."

"You're a real spy now, that's the initiation."

She looks up at you, bloodshot eyes creased into a smile.

"Yayyy."

"I need you to remember for me. What did you tell them?" (Proceed.)

"Nothing."

Survivors of Weeping Eye interrogations have reported enduring sensations of despair, self-loathing, and phantom pain in limbs they never had.

"The Weeping Eye doesn't let people go in exchange for "nothing"."

She shakes her head frantically.

"Denial won't help you."

"I don't need help. I'm fine. It was whatever. They just... asked me...."

Her expression cracks, breaks, splits at the seams.

"I'm sorry..." she sniffles. "So... embarassing."

"I used to have a nightmare, the interrogation... playing over and over again... So I built the machine. No more sleep, no more dream."

Her subconscious was stuck, reliving the event over and over again.

"This is insane. You're dying of exhaustion. Let me help you, so you can rest."

"No, Hersh. I can't."

Help the poor thing confront this nightmare, it's killing her.

She gave information to the Weeping Eye. Make her show you the dream so you can find out what.

"I need to know what you told them. About me. About us."

"I won't. I can't. I don't want to see it again. Please."

Accessing these servers while she's plugged into them might allow you to see what she gave up.

THE ENEMY HAVE CONSTRUCTED AN OUTPOST WITHIN THIS YOUNG REVOLUTIONARY'S MIND.

"I need to know what you told them."

"Nothing! It was whatever. They just... asked me...."

"I've heard they can be... cruel."

"It was fine."

Say nothing.

She looks up at you, her eyes piercing through the film of exhaustion.

"How long have you been like this?"

"How long? Since..."

"What... happened?"

No sarcasm. Time and space appear to have become mysteries to her.

"What's going on? Why are you plugged into... whatever this is?"

"We're... talking..."

Her attention wanders back towards the screens, back to you.

"What were you saying?"

A crease grows between her eyebrows, she blinks slowly. She doesn't remember.

"Do you... remember the old crew?"

She makes a warbling noise, as if trying to pronounce 'hmmm' while also trying to stifle a scream.

"Yeah."

"This is bootlegging equipment. Is that what you're doing?"

"Oh... yeah. Built this myself. Lots of anti-bootlegging tech... coming out of Luz. Brand new. All the time. Got to stay ahead of... the trends."

Dedicated to the fight, waging it on a back-alley field. She'll do whatever she can to help you.

She's a fucking queen.

"People want all this Luzian... poison. L-Pop. Bullshit. Least we can steal it."

"Look, remember getting me these? For my birthday." (Lift your shoe.)

She looks down, takes in the eye on your loafers. A coral flush passes over her cheekbones.

"You still have them..." she smiles. "That's so nice."

"I met your... boyfriend. Septimus."

"Uhh..."

"What do you like about Septimus?"

"You'll like him too. He's nice. Likes all the movies... Iron Petal, Hero Without a Face... Have you tried talking about movies?"

Oh, she wants the two of you to be friends and you already threatened him...

"We're talking about producing our own movies together... writing scripts..."

"Very cool that you're in business together."

"Yeah," she smiles, taps her keyboard. "Media bandits."

"He's the fruit of reactionary loins. Does he perform regular self-criticism?"

"We just hang out, mostly."

"He's exploiting your labour."

"No... we're together. It's us." She smiles, taps her keyboard. "Media bandits."

"I'm glad you have a man to look after you."

"Yeah... he does all the errands and... yeah."

Oh, she wants the two of you to be friends...

"About something else..." (Back.)

"Okay."

"Our paths diverged but fate seems to have drawn them together once more."

"Oh... Too bad..."

She doesn't know what she's responding to.

"This is fucked, K. You look fucked."

Wonderful, she's so over the Crew falling apart and getting tortured that she doesn't even remember!

"I want to ask about your life here again."

"Mmm?"

"I've looked at your setup. Constant REM, no dreams. It'll kill you."

"No, no. Not killing. It's nice..."

"Why did you bring me awake... you want something?"

"Needed to pull you out of this visibly evil machinery."

"No, no. This is my bootlegging gear, work stuff... I built it. It's nice."

She strokes the headset a few times to demonstrate.

It's more than nice. This is the nastiest, most plague-ridden shit you've ever seen -- even if there's a bit of woo woo involved.

"Regulates my sleep... so I can work all the time. Busy busy. No dreams, no nightmares. I had nightmares."