Branch
"Perhaps someone should go down and check on Boris and Irina?"
"They'll be alright. Irina didn't seem any more agitated than usual."
Meanwhile, the head of the Weeping Eye has been watching you. You see your face reflected back six times in his sextuple lenses.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask, operant. How did you earn your name?"
"Was it just assigned to you at random, or was it chosen with purpose?"
"Cryptonyms have no meaning. They're meant to be arbitrary."
"And yet when humans try to make something arbitrary, they always end up affixing some subconscious meaning to it."
Assignment compromised. Rating: CATASTROPHIC. The day is lost.
"And yet when humans try to make something arbitrary, they always end up affixing some subconscious meaning…"Which makes me wonder, have you grown to fit the name?""I would love the chance to debrief a real Opera controller. Unfortunately, it's been a very long time since…"Come on, operant. No need to play stupid games any longer."
Time. You need time. Keep them engaged. Keep your eyes open. Every moment you breathe is a victory.
"I only ask because there's one thing that's been bothering me -- A niggling matter I was hoping you might clear up."
Branch
"What's this 'niggling matter'?"
"My name." He straightens himself. "More precisely: That name the Opera has seen fit to bestow on me."
A barely-perceptible edge to the way he says 'that name'.
"What, you don't like 'the Hundred Eyed Golem'?"
"No, operant. I don't."
A wince. You've got under his skin, just slightly.
"A good name has to suit the role, don't you think? 'The Grand Lich', I understand. Facundo worked hard to cultivate a certain mystique with his body doubles and so forth."
"Are you saying you haven't earned your epithet?"
"I'm saying it's my horrible burden to look into the hearts of humanity and weigh their contents. I'd expect my epithet to convey something of the grandeur that implies."
"But 'Hundred Eyed Golem'?" He shakes his head. "I don't know what to think of it, as a name."
"I'm saying it's my horrible burden to look into the hearts of humanity and weigh their contents. I'd expect…"It's my horrible burden to look into the hearts of humanity and weigh their contents. There's nothing 'cool'…"It's my horrible burden to look into the hearts of humanity and weigh their contents. I take my role very…
"I think it's the eyes. There should be more of them."
"Maybe that's it." He drums his knuckles against the tabletop. "It's just not that many eyes, when you consider the magnitude of my burden."
This is good. Keep him talking.
The jukebox. Signal. Fighting chance.
Branch
"Mind if I put on some music?" (Gesture to the jukebox.)
"I do mind. Let's stay on the subject, please."
Just for a moment there -- he was curious about what song you would choose.
"The eye deficit."
Branch
"Come on. Just a little tune to bring the mood up."
"I agree. It's heavy in here."
"I think the atmosphere is appropriate to the subject."
Branch
"A hundred is already an obscene number of eyes."
"This is a disappointingly narrow perspective." He shakes his head, sadly. "What's obscene are the visions those eyes are made to endure."
"What sort of visions?"
"Hordes of repugnant, spiritless wights sleepwalking through a dark thicket. The whorehouse wonderland of depraved 'individualism'. A crazed disorder that nevertheless reproduces itself anew with each day."
The world, as you've found it.
"Just close your many eyes then."
"No. I refuse. Someone must have the strength to face the world as it truly is."
"I have to agree."
Branch
The man pulls at his collar, uncomfortable.
The veins on his neck bulge, blood drips from his ear.
Branch
"First off, where are we going?"
"The airport, naturally."
"And from there?"
"There's an unlisted flight waiting to take us back to Cicatriz Frontera. We'll arrive by sunset." He glances out the window.
"If you're lucky, you may be able to catch the cupolas glittering as we descend."
Perhaps the last such aesthetic experience you'll have.
Branch
"That's great. I have a flight of my own to catch."
"Happily enough, we're booked on the same flight. Don't worry, the arrangements are being made as we speak."
"What's in Cicatriz Frontera?"
"A very, very small room."
"For me?"
"That's right."
"And in that room, a very small desk. And on that desk a new script. You feature heavily."
He glances out the window. The city-state of Portofiro blurs somewhere beneath you.
Its people blur with it. Some look up as the oldest aero-tram line in the city shudders high above them, a bird without wings.
"And that brings us, at last, to your role: The doomed Opera assassin."
The only thing to hand is intimidation. They know you, but they don't know what you're capable of. Unsteady them.
Lie. Draw it out. Time is not yet your enemy.
Branch
Look around first.
The tram today is only lightly occupied: A handful of commuters, a couple of old pensioners, a few shopkeepers and small tradesmen.
A shopgirl nods her head, aware of nothing, lost in the same rock-and-roll dream she slips into every morning on her way into the city. A young boy, traveling with his mother, shifts nervously from one foot to another.
He watches, like his father taught him to do, a trick to keep him occupied. On the lookout for sinister bodies.
Does he see any?
Something unnatural about the Luzian man with the funny glasses. He makes the boy shiver.
Branch
Unnatural, how?
He can't say. He's only fourteen.
Branch
And the woman across the table?
Branch
She looks very sad, he thinks, like she has a lot on her mind.
Branch
She looks a bit crazed, he thinks, like the cousin his mother tells him not to speak to.
She looks very hard, he thinks, like his father when he comes home from work.
She looks distant, he thinks, like she's not even really there.
Does he see an aggressive-looking schoolgirl?
Alternative wording
Does he see a grown man in an Ultra Violeta hoodie?
He noticed someone like that when he boarded. He can't see them now. They must be downstairs.
Branch
Shake it off.
"These aero-trams all smell like shit. Am I the only one who notices?"
Branch
"I've come to like this place actually."
"We must not be talking about the same city. The day of Reunión can't come soon enough."
At the word 'Reunión', a number of necks stiffen. A man in a bucket hat casts a hateful look over his shoulder.
Branch
"You think it's bad up here, you should see it up close."
"I do my best to keep my distance. At least until the day of Reunión arrives."
Branch
There's nothing more to say for them. They're just normal people, and not very interesting to you in the end.
No sign of your squadmates either.
(To the Sombre Goon.) "Your kids, are they even real?"
"My girls?" He wrinkles his brow. "How dare you."
Branch
(To the Composed Goon.) "You're dying anyway. What would you do in my situation?"
"I would kill myself, the first chance I got."
Completely matter of fact. He's considered the hypothetical many times.
"You must have some tips or something."
"I'd go for the window, personally."
Solid stagecraft. Very results-oriented. This goon knows of what he speaks.
"Can I have my gun back for a second?"
"I'm afraid not." He gives you a sympathetic smile.
Branch
"What if I want to live?"
"You're asking a very 'then' question. Once you understand you're in a 'now' situation, you won't ask that question anymore."
"Not helpful."
"Alternatively, you can just enjoy the view." He turns away from you.
"The Opera never tires."
The four words come clean and sharp, like the flick of a blade.
The men around the table glance at each other.
"That's very good. That should play nicely in front of the cameras."
"Never gets tired of what though? I don't understand."
Unsettled.
"Winning."
"But you're not winning... are you?" He glances at you, then looks down.
Got one.
"It's good that you're already inhabiting your role: The depraved Opera assassin, murderer of our own Minister of Mass Culture."
Branch
As he looks at you evenly, his eyelid begins to twitch.
THE IMPERIALISTS ARE SHAPING NEW REALITIES WHILE YOU SIT AND DO NOTHING.
"What a tragedy, that poor Facundo relied on us for his protection, and in his moment of dire need, we were nowhere to be found." He wipes one of his lenses.
"Massive fucko on our part."
Branch
"Joke's on you: That wasn't even the Lich."
"Please, operant. Explain the joke." He nods.
Branch
"The real Facundo Reyes is in a secret EMTERR jail."
"Really... that's..." He breaks into a grin, then full, unbound laughter.
The kind of laugh that compels others to politely avert their gaze.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Everything. Facundo may have gotten himself 'detained' by deviant accountants, but... excuse me..." He breaks into laughter once more, then composes himself.
"... But your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, has just been assassinated by communist fanatics, led by yourself."
Dread, realising itself as vomit rising up the back of your throat.
"... But your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, has just been assassinated by communist fanatics,…"You've got it backward. Facundo may be gone, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a perfidious Opera…"You've got it backward. Facundo may be already dead, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a perfidious…"Then let's return to reality: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a…"You'll find the people can't really deal with ambiguities, so let's remove one for them: Your 'Grand Lich',…"I have to say, she saw right through me. It was quite a moving experience, actually.""I was taken in by her conversational prowess. She spoke very movingly about death.""I don't even know where I was. I'm unaccountable."
Could these be the sensitive, invisible fingers you've always felt, hovering darkly above your days?
No. His fingers are muscle, blood, fat, bone. Mortal like yourself.
"Whatever you may be feeling now, take heart in this: You played your role very adequately."
Alternative wording
"A shame that you flinched at the critical moment. Fortunately we were on-hand to keep the performance moving."
"But I didn't kill him, you killed him!"
"I watched your ascent, but we were too late for anything but heavy retribution. Fortunately you detailed it all in your signed confession."
"Hold on, I haven't confessed to anything!"
"I watched your ascent, but we were too late for anything but heavy retribution. Fortunately you detailed it…"The rest of your fanatical kill squad. They'll of course have their turn onstage. You told us all about them…"Thank you also for providing us with such a detailed signed confession. This will simplify the proceedings…"I wouldn't be so sure. You say some awfully ungenerous things about your controllers in your signed…
"You didn't need to. The relevant documents are all prepared and waiting for you. When the time comes, you'll only have to read the lines as written."
Here it is, laid out: the logic of the ritual sacrifice.
"You didn't need to. The relevant documents are all prepared and waiting for you. When the time comes, you'll…"I'm not. The relevant documents are all prepared and waiting for you. When the time comes, you'll only have…"That's no problem. The relevant documents are all prepared and waiting for you. When the time comes, you'll…
Behind the man's gaze, the world turns against you.
Fight. Kill. Live.
"What happens now?"
"In a few hours we'll board an unlisted flight to Cicatriz Frontera. There will be state media and propagandists from across the Imperio Illuminado waiting to record your arrival."
Alternative wording
"In a few hours we'll be in Cicatriz Frontera. There will be state media and propagandists from across the Imperio Illuminado waiting to record your arrival."
"They'll expect another convincing performance from you. Max will make sure you're camera ready."
Alternative wording
"They'll expect a more convincing performance than what you managed up at the shrine. Max will make sure you're camera ready."
The composed man nods and gives you a sad smile.
This prick still has our gun. When the moment comes, we jump him first.
"Your show trial will be compulsory viewing, I expect. The finale -- and the live executions -- will be a public holiday across the Illuminated Empire."
Branch
What about your friends? Do you not owe them, for everything they've given and are about to give for you?
My friends, where are you?
What about your friends? Do you not owe them, for everything they've given and are about to give for you?What about your friends? The dialectical counterforce, the only ones you've ever truly known to be on your…What about your friends? The ones who've been beside you this entire time...What about your friends? Those who keep you grounded, the only who give solidity to all your abstractions...
Branch
Beneath your feet, Karolina trembles under her see-through coat.
Branch
A few metres away, Ramses shifts uneasily from one foot to the next.
Wait! There, at the far end of the carriage.
A few metres away, Ramses shifts uneasily from one foot to the next.A few metres away, PSEUDOPOD can barely contain himself, his fist balled and trembling with nervous energy.Branch 798The young watcher averts his eyes but his posture betrays his attention. He knows there's something up with…Busted in-theatre.His eyes go wide. His cheeks flush pink as he turns back to his mother.Confirmation. Stagecraft acknowledged. He'll remember this moment as long as he lives.
Branch
A familiar face, giving you the faintest of nods.
Your controller was right: KALEIDOSCOPE has eluded the Weeping Eye's gaze. To them, he's simply a middle-aged man in a slightly inappropriate hooded sweatshirt.
Awaiting your signal.
A knife in your boot. You can turn this around.
Gäng! GÄNG!
Branch
"Hold on, there's a few things I'd like to get straight first."
"Go ahead. It's good to make sure you've got your backstory down."
Branch
"You're against the secret treaties the Lich was negotiating with EMTERR, is that it?"
"You're right. I want nothing to do with the Developed World and its degenerates. Anonimo's imprints were meant to transcend the cesspool of the now, not go dipping our cocks in it."
"But Facundo had his own ideas: 'Cultural Victory'. Pop music, space concerts..." He makes a retching sound.
Something about the way he says the name 'Facundo'...
"You're envious of the Lich. You wish you were him."
Alternative wording
"You envied the Lich. You wish you were him."
He's taken aback, for a sliver of an instant.
Point to the Opera.
"You misunderstand. In another world, Facundo and I might have..." He looks down a moment. "But there was something in him, a sign of psychogenetic drift. We both knew it would always come to this."
There are times even now when he wonders whether the 'drift' is actually within him, a secret tide pulling him ever further from himself.
Branch
"Better deals and compromises than a thousand years of darkness."
"Don't you get it? This is the darkness."
"It's fine. One day, a new warlord, psychopathic but literate, will appear in the east and melt the Developed World in the crucible of his armies, and in 500 years everything will sort itself out."
Branch
"Your Final Society can never exist. It's a corruption of a memory of a dream that belonged to someone else."
"I agree. Better for all of us to wake up."
"I thought techno-fascism was supposed to transcend all this?"
"All ideologies decay over time. They become swollen, they develop ulcers and sores in their hard to reach places. By the time the decadence is visible, it's too late."
The slowly collapsing mind of an old political philosopher, violently working through its own contradictions.
"You have a problem with your fellow imprints, it sounds like."
"Don't you also hate what reminds you of yourself?"
"Anonimo died without ever knowing what his Final Society should look like, let alone how we should build it." He turns to the window. "My brother-imprints have been trying to make up our mind for 300 years."
Branch
"You and the Grand Lich were in some kind of internal power struggle, is that it?"
"Hold on. What would've happened if I'd never come along?"
"I suppose we would've made it up as we went along."
"I would have liked a little more direction, personally."
"Lucky for me, the Opera seems to have reached the same conclusion via different means." A tight smile. "Happy convergence."
"When did you realise the Grand Lich was planning something?"
"Please, I know my own mind. We've been doing this sort of thing to ourselves for a long time."
Branch
"And his deal with Tempo del Sur? What did you know about it?"
"Only that Facundo was fond of those bottom-feeders, 'culture' addicts. The details are a few rungs beneath my station, to be honest with you."
"I still don't get what this 'imprint' stuff is about. Are you all the same guy, or what?"
"I'm not interested in giving you a techno primer. That was more Facundo's domain. Too bad you shot him."
"How does it work?"
"'How it works'? You find the most sweetest, weakest boys you can, then you pump their young skulls with psychoactive drugs and guided dreams and other unspeakable torments until there's no trace of sweetness or weakness left in their eyes -- only this." He traces the line of his mouth with his finger.
"All of my brother-imprints have the same smile. The tides of psychogenetic drift have pulled us farther and farther apart mentally, emotionally, politically, but this little marker has remained."
Branch
"Who were you... before?"
"I was no one. A four year old boy from a little village out on the Luzian plains. Sweet. Weak."
"But the Lich knew what you were planning, so he pulled a switch on you."
"Facundo knows as well as I do that it's the role that matters, not so much the body that fills it. Whether Facundo himself yet lives is no matter: The role of the Lich is dead."
Alternative wording
"Facundo knew as well as I do that it's the role that matters, not so much the body that fills it. Now man and role are both dead."
"I'm sure your controllers will take a similar view."
Alternative wording
"I'm sure your controllers will be doubly pleased."
"A truly massive collab. We should do it again sometime."
"Yes, it's been grand. Sadly, I think it'll be a one-off."
Branch
"I'm not done yet, you're next."
"That's good. They'll like lines like that during your interrogation."
"Let's get history going again. Great power conflict. Play all the hits."
"It warms my ancient heart to hear someone say that, but sadly our collaboration is coming to an end."
"And you get to pin the Lich's death on me and my squad."
"Please. You're not some idle voyeur. It was always your aim to kill the Grand Lich, improbable as that goal must have first seemed..."
"But now, you can stop flicking coins into old wells. The 'Hundred Eyed Golem' has come through for you."
"Okay, I feel it now. Definitely needs more eyes."
"Say the word, I'll update my stationary."
"If it's all for show, can't we just go our separate ways?"
"Even now, you understand so little? Maybe you're some kind of idiot savant."
Alternative wording
"You know that isn't so, otherwise you'd have left poor Dante the unfortunate body double where you found him."
"La Luz is the empire of images. Her people demand new and fantastical stimulations to prepare their minds for the Final Society. No complicated characters or ironic speeches, no uncomfortable feelings to ambush them in their lonely hours. They aren't prepared for reality as it's constituted, so we must constitute reality for them."
Branch
"Enough of this." (Go back.)
"I hope that cleared it up for you."
Branch
"Why did you kill Ignatz?"
"... Ignatz?" He turns to the man to his right.
"The special asset." He gestures loosely back up the tram line. "He didn't pass his probationary period, unfortunately."
"Ah, yes. A high functioning modern organisation has to be ruthless when it comes to personnel."
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."
"I'll kill you for that."
"Why?" He seems genuinely confused.
You don't know why you just said that. But you meant it.
"I don't really know. But I will."
"Another heart that doesn't know its own contents. Disgusting."
Branch
"Because you've got it coming."
"I've had many things 'coming to me', but so far I haven't gotten any of them. Strange."
"You wouldn't understand."
"It's true, another of your heart's disgusting mysteries."
"I'll wang you for that."
"He probably deserved it on at least one level."
"Multiple levels, would be more accurate."
"Who's going to look after the cat?"
"Cat?" He again turns to the man next to him.
"I don't think it will last long, to be honest with you." A sad smile. "There were a lot of boars around."
"Shame. My daughters have always wanted a cat."
"Why did you wang Ignatz?"
"Do you remember an Opera network called the Whole Sick Crew?"
"Yes... 91, wasn't it? We rolled up a good few that year." He turns to his right. "It started with a girl, if I recall."
Branch
"I remember her very well. The Hayato girl. Karolina, wasn't it? She's downstairs now."
"Twice unlucky, it seems."
(To the Composed Goon.) "You're MANTICORE, aren't you?"
"I figured she'd be out of league play for good, after what happened in 91. I'm honestly surprised you brought her." He nods his head. "Very surprised."
"Ninety-one..." the sombre goon says, somewhat wistfully. "I'd just gotten married."
"I figured she'd be out of league play for good, after what happened in 91. I'm honestly surprised you…"I think that's doubtful. I think it's going to be like 91 again.""We did terrible things to that girl in 91. It's no surprise you'd leave her on the bench. That was a humane…"We did terrible things to that girl in 91. At the same time, she carried herself well, she never gave us…
Branch
"What about an operant called HOLOCENE?"
"The name means nothing to me."
"We didn't pick up anyone from Novessa that time. He must've disappeared."
Branch
"Ramses Molloy. Rustamian guy. What happened to him?"
"We just talked to him, I believe."
"That's it? You 'talked'?"
"Yes. Not long after, one of our associates in the Prefectura shredded all his official records. He's not really a person anymore, legally speaking."
"Administrative execution." He nods thoughtfully.
Branch
"What about Tempo del Sur?"
"Tempo, Tempo..." He rubs the side of his head.
"The bootlegger. He's been known to us for many years. An associate of Facundo's, as it happens."
"And my friend, as it happens."
"Right. Irina and Max handled that one. Downstairs." He nods toward the floor.
Branch
"He's the one who kicked this whole thing off, in a sense."
"Not to worry. Your signed confession speaks vividly of his contributions."
"What'd you do with him?"
"You'd have to ask Irina and Max. They handled that one. Downstairs." He nods toward the floor.
"Vespar Sondo. Carabinero. Remember him?"
"The carabinero, of course. We hoped we could turn him for a while. Eventually we delivered him over to the Azzurris."
"Unintelligible, sodomitic swine. Azzurris."
(To the Golem.) "That was my network. My crew."
"If memory serves, apart from the carabinero, there was very little interesting about your friends. I ordered them set loose."
"Why?"
"Everything I do has a dozen reasons. I could pick one out for you, but it would be arbitrary and unsatisfying by its nature."
"Go ahead, give me a reason."
Branch
"It was a jubilee day, my mind must have been in a forgiving cast."
"You have a very forgiving nature. Not a lot of people know that."
Branch
"I'd say my judgement's proven prescient. Without your friends, would you even be here?"
Branch
"To be blunt, rolling them up was so easy I was partly convinced it was some kind of set up, a bird in painted feathers."
"Not a very nice thing to say, but unfortunately accurate."
"They weren't worth the bullets."
"I have to agree with that, I'm sorry to say."
"I experienced a vague premonition that they needed to go free, and that I would discover why in due course. And now, here we are."
"The universe speaks, all we can do is listen."
"And now? Did you make the right decision?"
"Fine. Forget it." (Back.)
"Ninety-one, wasn't it? We rolled up a number of them that year." He turns to his right. "It started with a girl, if I recall."
"She's going to fuck you all up."
"I think that's doubtful. I think it's going to be like 91 again."
"I remember her very well. Hayato was the surname. She was spying on her own father."
At your direction, of course. Her father was head of a secret Dream Study receiving EMTERR funding.
Branch
Branch
"I left her behind."
"We did terrible things to that girl in 91. It's no surprise you'd leave her on the bench. That was a humane decision."
"Where is she? What became of her?"
"We did terrible things to that girl in 91. At the same time, she carried herself well, she never gave us your name."
Feign indifference.
"Take me wherever you want, but let my friends go."
Ultimate gäng move. Set them free.
"Your friends are you. Each a separate limb of the whole."
You have miscast your company. You were all amateurs, unfit for your roles, and for this stage.
"Please."
"No strange mercy for you."
"You and your friends embarked on this together, you will see it through together."
Fäte and fäscists have decreed: the gang stays gang.
In spite of your pleas -- relief floods your heart.
The head of the Weeping Eye looks at you for a long moment. He reaches into his coat.
"Right. Now that the formal part is out of the way, let's get to the fun stuff."
He thuds something heavy on the table in front of you. A deck of weathered black cards.
"Here? You're sure?"
"We still have a ways until we reach Central. Let's get to know each other a little bit."
To your left and right, his goons avert their eyes.
"What's this?"
"Entreaty."
Ancient Luzian game of divination. Uses a unique deck of cards not seen elsewhere.
TURN THE FASCIST'S SUPERSTITIONS AGAINST HIM.
Do it. Stall. Draw this out.
"If you want to do a reading, I could really use some music to focus..."
"You are the focus. Nothing else is necessary."
"Alright, let's see the cards." (Accept.)
"I will play the augur, the stars' chosen mouth." His shuffles the deck.
His upper lip inclines to the right as he speaks. His canine is chipped.
"You'll be the querent. This first card will help us see what you're made of."
Branch
He turns the top card and lays it between you. It shows the rippled surface of moving water, stars reflected within.
The violence of the wave, the crushing weight of the abyss. The cards see your strength.
"'THE OCEAN'. A body. Constant, changing, unrelenting." He touches it, lightly. "And full of death."
Branch
"I'm a materialist, I don't believe in this."
"You believe that a thing cannot exist which has no body?" he shows all his teeth. "Disregard for a material does not unmake it."
Branch
"This card represents my physical strength."
"You have corrupted a gifted flesh." He clicks his tongue.
He takes the card away, then lays two more side by side on the table.
"You have corrupted a gifted flesh." He clicks his tongue."Be grateful that your flesh is so disgusting, or else I'd eat you just for the pleasure of shitting you out…"Please, there's nothing sadder than self-deception." He clicks his tongue."No belief, only fact." He traces its edge lightly with his thumb. "The card sees your power over others.""The card sees your power over others," he touches it, lightly."Useful properties for an assassin such as yourself. A shame for us you applied your gift so ignobly.""Fitting for an assassin such as yourself. A shame for us you applied your gift so ignobly.""Obviously. We're on our way to Cicatriz Frontera. And we're taking a plane, as we've established.""Afraid even in utero -- of what you could have done and what would have been expected of you.""You were raised in the shadow of envy." He shakes his head.
"Second, for what you have made of your life. Choose only one."
Branch
"I don't want to."
"Boo-hoo. Now choo-choose."
Branch
"Why can't I have both?"
"Because you cannot have two lives. One truth must remain hidden, you may choose which."
"A blind choice isn't a fair one."
"Instinct is not blind."
Branch
Take the left card.
Branch
THE PRISM.
"It's 'THE PRISM'." (Call it.)
You turn the card in your hand to find another, severed at the wrist. A single droplet of water dangles from the tip of its index finger.
Branch
"It's as you said..." He wipes his brow. "'THE PRISM' scatters light, degrades it so that our meagre sight organs might comprehend its truth. How did you know?"
"Massive spy intuitions." (Wink at him.)
"You've suffered greatly." He looks at the card. "There's truth in pain. In some cases, ecstatic revelation."
Recall the case of Operant DUTY, who was tortured so effectively by the Weeping Eye that he began to reveal the secrets of his captors.
"You've suffered greatly." He looks at the card. "There's truth in pain. In some cases, ecstatic revelation.""The unconscious lies that make living possible." He looks at the card. "And yet there's truth in pain. In…"Another ritual. Another sacrifice." He looks at the card. "There's truth in pain. In some cases, ecstatic…
"The world often shares its wonders with those least able to comprehend them. One of its cruel ironies."
He shuffles his deck and places three more cards, carefully, on the table.
"The world often shares its wonders with those least able to comprehend them. One of its cruel ironies.""No," he shakes his head. "A loadbearing pillar.""I don't think so.""The attitude of a minor soul." He shakes his head."We're nearly done."Still a strong trade. Absolutely worth it.Portofiro's sprawl flashes briefly across his six-fold lenses as he sneers at the city below."You're right. I'll never understand 'communists' who pretend to play at 'bizness'.""This is a tool. Your ignorance doesn't diminish its use-value, it only obscures it from you. Very sad!"Slowly, deliberately, the composed man slips a hand inside his jacket.Branch 708
"Third, for your now."
Branch
Take the left.
Branch
You lay out the card. It shows a magic lantern projecting a greyhound in various stages of a sprint.
" 'THE TRACK'. You're the beloved of authority, made to run an endless chase. Tragic."
Melita's voice in your ear. Tired, comforted.
"My controller will miss me."
"Beautiful." An unmistakable sad tinge to his voice.
He bows his head as if in prayer.
"Does this love comfort you?"
He respects the idea of this love even if he would despise its reality.
"No. It makes this worse."
"Yes, I imagine it would."
He puts your cards delicately aside, then shuffles his deck again.
"Yes, I imagine it would.""That doesn't mean it isn't real. Another dimension to the tragedy.""In this way, no. The only authority I obey is the voice that was pressed into me as a young boy.""Good." His voice is sincere.The Opera set you up. They knew you'd fail; they sent you here to die."The delusions of absolute mediocrity, another symptom of your so-called classless society. Or is it a…"And yet you bested the Weeping Eye's finest." He turns to his goons. "Reflects poorly on you all, I'd say.""Your heat burns those whom your light attracts.""No, I think there's much more to it than that." He shakes his head. "Your heat burns those whom your light…"A case-in-point." He nods to the composed man, who tips his head in reply."I'm sorry, do you find this vulgar?" He wipes the card gently on his coat. "I thought we were getting…Like Operant KEEPSAKE, who was fed to sacred hawks by the Mircean inquisition in 21 -- consigning her soul to…"You're joking, but I'm grateful for a well-honed opponent.""All the same. I'm glad we have this chance to chat.""So this is the level the Opera is working at. Unbelievably disappointing.""I find myself disappointed. I would have preferred a honed opponent."
Rhythmically, like blades of a machine churning together.
Now. Offense. Turn the table.
"Final. When all else burns away, this remains."
Branch
"Let me guess... TORTURE, GOLEM, DEATH."
"No." He shakes his head slowly. "We don't need the cards to see that."
Branch
Turn the left card.
Branch
The card shows a shoot erupting from dark soil.
"'THE TREE'." He pauses. "Interesting."
He raises a hand to the goon at his side, hesitates, and lays it back on the table.
Branch
"You have concealed something from me. Commendable."
"I'm going to immolate you all."
The sombre man looks up and around, just for a moment.
The composed man's curiosity or apprehension overcomes his reverence. Your eyes meet. He looks away.
Branch
Blood trickles from Ignatz' lip to his eye.
With a caress, the head of the Weeping Eye places the last card back into the pile you drew, then lays them out again, one by one.
Branch
Branch
"Contrary to your socialistic pretensions, the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral. Everything has a price tag, nothing is sacred."
"And now you find yourself at the very end, with nothing left to trade."
"Contrary to your socialistic pretensions, the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral.…"Pretensions to 'brand ambassadorship' aside, the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral.…"In keeping with your essentially liberal worldview, the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and…"Your beliefs may be incoherent and inconstant, but the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral.…
Branch
"And now you find yourself at the very end, with nothing left to trade.""In some of them you'll attain the forgiveness you've sought so desperately. But in all of them you lose a…"In some of them you'll come close to untangling the skein of secret power that comprises your reality. But…"In some of them you'll destroy yourself for the sake of your task, just as you've always imagined. But in…"Whatever the result, you'll accept it with the same cold detachment with which you've carried yourself all…"You've gained that trust by promising that things will be different this time. Your friends wanted the best,…"You've gained that trust by offering to lead your friends into the secret rooms where reality is ordered.…"You've gained that trust through your own visible tenacity. Whatever self-devouring mechanism propels you…"You've gained that trust by seeming to remove yourself from the whole human situation. But when you're gone,…"He's preoccupied with 'forgiveness', and in his distraction only causes more grief.""His paranoid babblings have left him unable to perceive the world as it is. The only conspiracy is what his…"He's thrown himself headlong into his task with delirious abandon. His blindness is a destructive force. In…"This is by design, of course. With no belief in his own agency, how can he be expected to do anything…"Presented with many choices, you have chosen to become nothing. Now others will make of you what they will."
Branch
"Pretensions to 'brand ambassadorship' aside, the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral. Everything has a price tag, nothing is sacred."
Branch
"In keeping with your essentially liberal worldview, the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral. Everything has a price tag, nothing is sacred."
"Your beliefs may be incoherent and inconstant, but the cards see a mercantile nature, relativist and amoral. Everything has a price tag, nothing is sacred."
Branch
"There are developments that even the cards can't fully foretell. A swerve in time's road, a crack in the edifice. Even now, the dice dangle in midair, containing 36 possible futures within them."
Branch
"In some of them you'll attain the forgiveness you've sought so desperately. But in all of them you lose a part of yourself."
"In some of them you'll come close to untangling the skein of secret power that comprises your reality. But in all of them you lose a part of yourself."
"In some of them you'll destroy yourself for the sake of your task, just as you've always imagined. But in all of them you lose a part of yourself."
"Whatever the result, you'll accept it with the same cold detachment with which you've carried yourself all along. But you knew that already."
Branch
"The issue at hand is people, the trust that binds them together and raises them above the animals..."
Branch
"You've gained that trust by promising that things will be different this time. Your friends wanted the best, but so far it's turned out like always."
"You've gained that trust by offering to lead your friends into the secret rooms where reality is ordered. Now you're in one of them -- what do you do?"
"You've gained that trust through your own visible tenacity. Whatever self-devouring mechanism propels you forward must also carry your friends along."
"You've gained that trust by seeming to remove yourself from the whole human situation. But when you're gone, where will that leave your friends?"
Branch
"The cards summon the image of a blind man groping around in the dark, his hands extended helplessly before him, knocking into objects, utterly unaware of himself."
Branch
"He's preoccupied with 'forgiveness', and in his distraction only causes more grief."
"His paranoid babblings have left him unable to perceive the world as it is. The only conspiracy is what his mind does to itself."
"He's thrown himself headlong into his task with delirious abandon. His blindness is a destructive force. In the end, he will be destroyed too."
"This is by design, of course. With no belief in his own agency, how can he be expected to do anything different?"
"An ugly reading. Formless. Indefinite. It reminds me of scum forming on the surface of still water."
"Presented with many choices, you have chosen to become nothing. Now others will make of you what they will."
"From you? With all those eyes? Never."
"Don't lie to me." He shakes his head. "Not now."
"Yep. This tram's booby trapped to shit."
"Is that so?"
"Empty spaces, awake and watching. Hidden companionship. You have another friend."
"Nope. Just me and the ones you got already." (Lie.)
"I have loads of friends. This whole tram is full of my assets."
You turn the card to reveal an open latch, a dark hole in the floor. Two mammalian eyes peer outward.
" 'THE OUBLIETTE' ." He pauses. "Interesting."
Choose the right.
Branch
You turn over the rightmost card to show a mountainous landscape, moon low and far too large on the horizon. Its name is written in golden script.
" 'THE SATELLITE'. Asymmetrical symbiosis. The umbilical cord. A burden that shall follow you wherever you go." He raises his eyes to you. "Your friends downstairs, the ones who depend on you absolutely?"
Branch
" 'THE SATELLITE'. Asymmetrical symbiosis. The umbilical cord. A burden that shall follow you wherever you…"'THE HEARTH'." He shakes his head. "A home you can never return to. Comforts physical and mental. Your…"THE HUNCHBACK. Monstrous, all too human. You choose the company of the cast-off and malformed." He gazes up…
KALEIDOSCOPE is still unknown to him. Good, good.
"Those are my friends, you prick. They're here for me."
"And now they're in my care. You have failed in your responsibility. That knowledge is your burden."
As it was with Operant AXIS, captured in La Cupola in 75 and then dragged behind the resurfacing machine at every Luzian ice hockey game until he finally succumbed in 78.
"And now they're in my care. You have failed in your responsibility. That knowledge is your burden.""Let me alleviate your paranoia: Your friends' loyalty was absolute. This failure belongs to you and you…"If they didn't, they will very shortly.""Beautiful, stupid, meaningless. I'm talking about your impending deaths."
"This whole thing's been rigged from the beginning. I suspect one of them may've been in on it."
"Let me alleviate your paranoia: Your friends' loyalty was absolute. This failure belongs to you and you alone."
"They knew what they were signing up for."
"If they didn't, they will very shortly."
"True friendship is impossible; that's why we must cling to it."
"Beautiful, stupid, meaningless. I'm talking about your impending deaths."
Yana is still unknown to him. Good, good.
Branch
You flip the card to show an image of a dying fire, over which hangs a collection of heavy pots.
"'THE HEARTH'." He shakes his head. "A home you can never return to. Comforts physical and mental. Your friends downstairs, the ones you've drawn together again?"
You turn the card to see an image featuring a stooped figure, face concealed by a heavy cloak. One narrowed eye peers up from beneath its hood.
"THE HUNCHBACK. Monstrous, all too human. You choose the company of the cast-off and malformed." He gazes up at you. "Your friends, the two lost boys downstairs?"
"Your turn." (Draw a card for Tesoro.)
You reach for the deck. In either surprise or disregard the man stares at you helpless as a boy. You take his cards. You shuffle them.
"Wanna call it?"
"No. Play the role you've usurped."
Draw a card. Place it face up on the table.
The card is blank, plain white, with text at the bottom which you read upside down. In golden script: LUMINESCENCE.
"There's something wrong with the light..." His jaw slackens. "Look at the card. The light seethes... a skin ready to burst."
"The light has failed you. You're on your own."
"No. No..." He goes silent a moment.
"Are you done?"
"Strange... A strange thing for you to say to me now. You remind me of somebody I once knew, though you and he are nothing alike."
"Then how do I remind you of him?"
"He said the same to me, in a similar circumstance."
A distance grows between you as his mind wanders into the past.
His attention was so strong that you feel cold in its absence.
"Hey, back here." (Snap your fingers.)
"Nothing alike. But perhaps there's something dialectical to it."
He pronounces the word 'dialectical' with a teasing viciousness which is almost like flirting.
"We were schooled together, with fifty other boys, in an old barracks around a ginkyo tree. He was kind, delicate. Unassuming and generous."
Branch
The golden shade, the screaming boy beaten by his fellows...
"Hold on, I know this school. The ginkyo in the courtyard..."
"No." He shakes his head. "This happened nearly 300 years ago. You only know Facundo's corrupted impression of it."
"You're deluding yourself. Your 'memory' is every bit as corrupted."
"Shut up!" He slams a fist on the table.
Rattled. Good.
Reflexively, the goon to his right reaches for his inside pocket, before folding his hands again.
"He should not have existed. The world should not allow a boy so pathetic to exist... so I became the world. I saw the ginkyo's canopy flashing yellow in his eyes, wide with fear, and I beat the light out of them."
The goon sitting behind you turns his head, slightly.
Drawn by the malice in his master's voice.
"Why did you do it?"
"Because I craved it. I was an addict to his pain -- I longed for it, looked for him. When he hid from me I... learned what we are."
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL.
"Because I craved it. I was an addict to his pain -- I longed for it, looked for him. When he hid from me…"What's worse is that I craved it. I longed for it, looked for him. When he hid from me I... learned what we…"Yes. And what's worse is that I craved it. I longed for it, looked for him. When he hid from me I... learned…"There was undeniable craving, perhaps it's similar. I took all of him. When he hid from me I... learned what…
"All this he did to me and then he looked up, bloody and frail, unrecognisable. Like you, he said: 'Are you done?' I was not. I never will be."
Branch
"I get it. The weak get what's coming to them."
"What's worse is that I craved it. I longed for it, looked for him. When he hid from me I... learned what we are."
"You're a morbid symptom of a sick age."
"Yes. And what's worse is that I craved it. I longed for it, looked for him. When he hid from me I... learned what we are."
"Yeah, man. That's love."
"There was undeniable craving, perhaps it's similar. I took all of him. When he hid from me I... learned what we are."
"So what really happened, to the boy?"
"Sounds like you loved him."
"I hated him."
"Yep. Nothing like me."
"No. But his simplicity and your incompetence inspire in me a similar urge."
"What became of him?"
"Was he a prisoner, too?"
"In a way... yes."
Let him talk.
"I'm way cooler, I bet."
"Bolder, certainly."
"Don't care about your personal lore." (Back.)
"As far as history is concerned, that is all you are."
Branch
"You've disappointed the light. You're a decaying impostor."
You hold out your hand for his deck. He raises an eyebrow at you in question.
"A role switch... unconventional. Yet the allure... undeniable." With both hands and a short bow of the head, he hands you the deck.
He bites his lip, apprehensive.
Fuck his deck out the window.
You all watch as the cards scatter and flutter in the wind, like a handful of leaves.
"Much better."
"That deck was three hundred years old."
Behold: He has transcended rage. You are witnessing the birth of a whole new emotion.
Rage 2.
"We'll return to this topic... soon."
Branch
"I'm sorry. This is not what I meant to happen."
Spit on them.
You summon a cloudy wad of phlegm into the barrel and take aim.
"Fuck--"
The Golem shields the cards from your mucoid assault with his own arm. He slips the cards back into his coat, considers the slime on the back of his sleeve, then looks to you. Hurt.
"Repulsive, disappointing."
Branch
"These cards are sticky. Is this cum?"
"What? Ludicrous."
He snatches the deck from your grasp.
"I know cum, my friend."
"Ludicrous," he repeats, as he stuffs the deck angrily into his jacket.
Branch
(To the goons.) "He cums on them."
The sombre man's face knits itself into a look of bewildered incomprehension.
"Sorry, my mistake."
"I don't know. I can't feel it."
"That doesn't mean it isn't real. Another dimension to the tragedy."
"Have you never known how it feels to be loved yourself?"
"In this way, no. The only authority I obey is the voice that was pressed into me as a young boy."
Nod.
"Good." His voice is sincere.
"Why's that tragic?"
"You have failed them; they have sent you to your death." Sadly.
"Exactly. My controllers will get me out of here."
"You misunderstand. No one can run your race for you." Sadly.
"If my controller loved me then she wouldn't have sent me here."
"You're a dog to her, just as she's dog to another." Sadly.
You lay the card. It shows a magic lantern projecting a greyhound in various stages of a sprint. Its title is upside down.
Branch
" 'THE TRACK'. Its reversed configuration suggests you've disappointed your authorities. Perhaps the Opera you claim not to know."
Melita's voice in your ear, distant, irritated.
"Yeah, my controller's probably pissed at me right now."
"Mm." A wrinkle forms between his brows. "You believe this is your punishment then."
The Opera set you up. They knew you'd fail; they sent you here to die.
"Your card's backward. I'm tops at espionage."
"The delusions of absolute mediocrity, another symptom of your so-called classless society. Or is it a feature? Something to ponder in the small room that waits for you."
"Makes sense, I'm a shit spy."
"And yet you bested the Weeping Eye's finest." He turns to his goons. "Reflects poorly on you all, I'd say."
" 'THE TRACK'. Its reversed configuration suggests you've disappointed your authorities. Your controller, no doubt."
Choose the middle.
Branch
Your turn over the card. Its face shows a dozen moths, some of them have embers on their wings.
SINGED IN THE GLORIOUS FLAME OF REVOLUTION.
Branch
"To be expected. 'THE SWARM'. Dissolution of self. Animal warmth. People are drawn to you, and you to them. Why?"
Block out these vicious theatrics. Don't give him the fear he wants.
"People just love me, always have."
"Your heat burns those whom your light attracts."
"It's a burden I've been trying to escape."
"I gathered them and protected them."
"No, I think there's much more to it than that." He shakes his head. "Your heat burns those whom your light attracts."
"I'll just give everyone up now. Number one: Eszti Newitz."
"A case-in-point." He nods to the composed man, who tips his head in reply.
(Spit on the card.)
"I'm sorry, do you find this vulgar?" He wipes the card gently on his coat. "I thought we were getting intimate."
"'THE SWARM'. Dissolution of self. Animal warmth. People are drawn to you, and you to them. Why?"
Your turn over the card. Its face shows a dozen moths, some of them have embers on their wings. But the scene and title face your enemy: The card is upside down.
OVERTURNED LIKE THE OLD ORDER.
Branch
"'THE SWARM', reversed. Unsurprising for the traitor. Atomisation. A widening gulf between self and world. Operant: you are alone."
"No way, I'm the People's Spy. Universally beloved."
"A perspective shared with exactly no one. You weren't meant for the company of men."
Like Operant KEEPSAKE, who was fed to sacred hawks by the Mircean inquisition in 21 -- consigning her soul to eternal torment.
"I didn't want to drag everyone down with me."
"You hold yourself at such a distance that you cast a great shadow. The fewer caught within it, the better for them."
"I'm a loner. Don't need anyone else."
"Perhaps you weren't meant for the company of men."
"'THE SWARM', reversed. Atomisation. A widening gulf between self and world. Operant: you are alone."
Flip the right.
Branch
You flip the card. Its face shows an acrobat, naked to the waist, performing a sword-swallowing trick. His chest is burned through to reveal a flaming blade inside.
Funny name, difficult trick. This is about training.
"'THE CLOWN'. The cards commend you your discipline, you have a pocketful of tricks at your disposal. Too bad I've got more."
"This game is rigged. I want a different card."
"You're joking, but I'm grateful for a well-honed opponent."
"This head is buzzing with ways to take you out. I'm just enjoying our chat."
"The only thing your head buzzes with are the asinine edicts of your Party."
HEY.
"All the same. I'm glad we have this chance to chat."
"Hey, look: It's your card."
"So this is the level the Opera is working at. Unbelievably disappointing."
You flip the card. Its face shows an acrobat, naked to the waist, performing a sword-swallowing trick. His chest is burned through to reveal a flaming blade inside. Its title is upside down.
A trick, left unmastered.
"'THE CLOWN'. In the reversed position the figure appears hanged. You have nothing up your sleeve. No tricks. A poverty of wit."
"Obviously, I'm captured. Shit cards."
"A shit card for a shit spy. Boo-hoo-hoo."
"No tricks required; this is all part of the plan." (Lean back and fold your hands behind your head.)
"I find myself disappointed. I would have preferred a honed opponent."
"I often receive echoes of things just before they happen."
"Skills."
"'THE PRISM'. It scatters light, degrades it so that our meagre sight organs might comprehend its truth. What do you see in it?"
"Secrets the mind keeps from itself."
"The unconscious lies that make living possible." He looks at the card. "And yet there's truth in pain. In some cases, ecstatic revelation."
"I see a satellite high above the world. A tomb for people sacrificed for a theory."
"Another ritual. Another sacrifice." He looks at the card. "There's truth in pain. In some cases, ecstatic revelation."
"Cool colours and stuff."
Say nothing, just flip the card.
You turn the card over to reveal a doorway, open, allowing insufficient light into the darkness beyond.
"'THE RUINS'..." he breathes. "There is an unknown unknown. You see so little that you cannot even fathom its absence. If you could, it would crush you."
Crushed -- like Operant MARBLE, who was ejected from a Mircean submarine and immediately pulped by the sheer weight of black, icy water above.
Pity, sorrow. He regrets this on your behalf.
"Not possible. I've been extremely thorough."
"On the contrary. You've missed something..." he grazes his heart with his hand, "awful."
"Like... a cool side thing?"
"No," he shakes his head. "A loadbearing pillar."
"An outfit. I bet it was an outfit."
"I don't think so."
"Sounds like I'm better off for it."
"The attitude of a minor soul." He shakes his head.
"What did I miss?" (To the card.)
"It's not the card's to say." Regretfully.
"Can we play a different card game? This one's making me feel bad."
"We're nearly done."
Take the right.
Branch
The card's face shows a system of tubes, alembics, liquid bubbling over a delicate flame. As mad and intricate as vines creeping over the forest floor.
Ultra Violeta loses sight of Portofiro, twinkling softly into darkness.
"'ALCHEMY'. Transmutation. Artifice over nature. An exchange has been made." He looks up.
"Ultra Violeta. I sent her back to Luz in exchange for the Lich."
"AHAHAHAHA...AHAHA"
The sombre man looks over his shoulder toward you, his brow creased with worry.
"HAHAHAHA." (Laugh along, like you get the joke.)
"AHAHAHA... AHAHA... AHA..."
"Hahaha... haha?"
"I suppose I should thank you." He wipes a tear from his cheek. "It's much better that Facundo's glittery mascot be kept under our watch."
"I didn't do it for you."
"You didn't need to, our fates are entwined. Perhaps I even felt a phantom twitch the day your father expressed you, I just didn't know what it was."
"As for the Ultra Violeta, I predict one of her fanatics will ask for an autograph and then shoot her six times as she exits a concert hall."
No reaction. Your face gives nothing away.
"As for the Ultra Violeta, I predict one of her fanatics will ask for an autograph and then shoot her six…"Doubt we'll have the chance." He smiles. "I predict one of her fanatics will ask for an autograph and then…"I can do nothing for her." He smiles. "I predict that in the very near future, one of her fanatics will ask…
Still a strong trade. Absolutely worth it.
No. No.
"Are you still going to send her to space?"
"Doubt we'll have the chance." He smiles. "I predict one of her fanatics will ask for an autograph and then shoot her six times as she exits a concert hall."
"None of this is her fault. Leave her alone."
"I can do nothing for her." He smiles. "I predict that in the very near future, one of her fanatics will ask for an autograph and then shoot her six times as she exits a concert hall."
"It was extremely melancholic actually. No one was laughing."
"Your fascist card game has heard of his majesty, King of Trade."
"This is no game. The King of Trade?"
"No 'The'. Just 'King of Trade'."
"A fraudulent noble, befitting this city-state of fraudulent consumption."
Portofiro's sprawl flashes briefly across his six-fold lenses as he sneers at the city below.
"My wretched beast nemesis who lives for exchange."
"Ah. Another morbid symptom of the spiritual rot endemic to this place."
"Talking monkey."
"Big money business deals. I wouldn't expect you to understand." (Examine your nails.)
"You're right. I'll never understand 'communists' who pretend to play at 'bizness'."
"I've told you, this is just paper and coincidence."
"This is a tool. Your ignorance doesn't diminish its use-value, it only obscures it from you. Very sad!"
"The exchange is gunfire. It's going to transmute you into a corpse."
"Bold in sentiment, empty of content."
Slowly, deliberately, the composed man slips a hand inside his jacket.
You turn the card to reveal a drawing taken from the perspective of someone lying on the ground, looking up. The sun is blocked by someone else's face, looking down.
You recognise the empty features in the drawing. A feeling like an itch in the corner of your mind.
"'THE ECLIPSE'. Interruption. Alienation from the primal source." He points to the card. "What is it? What is the moon that separates you from the light?"
"It's nothing. I told you: the cards are nonsense."
"You turned down an opportunity for the sake of a friend. Admirable, possibly delusional."
Branch
"You turned down an opportunity for the sake of a friend. Admirable, possibly delusional.""No, most people find ways to quiet the blood-moan. Very few can survive making it into a fetish the way you…"Self pity, yum-yum. I'd lick your tears, but sadly, we're in public.""So was I." A smile like a hairline crack spreads across his face."Of course. You believe in the labour theory of value, why not wampyrs too?"The clown thing really got to him. Nice."Of course. Humanity has nothing to fear from the stars.""Much safer that way. Better to charge forward, indifferent to all dangers celestial, earthbound, and…"You're absolutely right." He nods slowly. "None of this means anything but what you make of it."
"The memory of my failures, always hanging above me."
"A heart turned against itself. No matter what happens, your blood aches with loss."
"Isn't it that way for everyone?"
"No, most people find ways to quiet the blood-moan. Very few can survive making it into a fetish the way you have."
"I deserve this. It had to end this way."
He lets out a soft grunt of contentment, leans back in his chair.
"Self pity, yum-yum. I'd lick your tears, but sadly, we're in public."
"It's a false moon, planted by a cabal of psychic wampyrs with ties to pharmaceutical interests."
"You dream of orgiastic occultists rutting in their own filth. But these 'wampyrs' are the least of your problems."
"Wampyrs aren't real, you ponce. I was talking about liberals."
"So was I." A smile like a hairline crack spreads across his face.
"The wampyrs are literal and also my main problem."
"Of course. You believe in the labour theory of value, why not wampyrs too?"
"This is just an act. I only say this stuff to see what other people will go along with."
"Keep it up. It will play very mysteriously when you're in the glass box."
Alternative wording
"Now who's the clown?"
Branch
The clown thing really got to him. Nice.
"Don't care. I never look up anyway."
"Is it because you're afraid of what you might see?"
"No, I fear nothing."
"Of course. Humanity has nothing to fear from the stars."
"Yes."
"Much safer that way. Better to charge forward, indifferent to all dangers celestial, earthbound, and cthonic." He nods slowly.
"Yes, but only a little."
"It's just the moon, and whatever meaning I project onto it."
"You're absolutely right." He nods slowly. "None of this means anything but what you make of it."
"The ocean. It means I'm wet. Soaking in game."
"Be grateful that your flesh is so disgusting, or else I'd eat you just for the pleasure of shitting you out again." He clicks his tongue.
"I'm extremely scenic. People love to visit me."
"Please, there's nothing sadder than self-deception." He clicks his tongue.
Branch
He lays the top card upright before you. Its face shows a needle grin suspended behind a glowing lure: an anglerfish.
One can only betray friends, the traitor has many.
"'THE TRAITOR'. Empathy and charisma are its marks. This card indicates leadership. Trust. Predation."
Branch
"I'm a materialist, I don't believe in this."
"You believe that a thing cannot exist which has no body?" he shows his teeth. "Disregard for a material does not unmake it."
Branch
"The card thinks I'm manipulative."
"No belief, only fact." He traces its edge lightly with his thumb. "The card sees your power over others."
"Knew it. I've been lead this whole time."
"Cavalier phrases are one of THE TRAITOR's unfortunate symptoms."
"The card sees your power over others," he touches it, lightly.
"I'm fast, I'm sharp, I'm a lurking predator of the depths."
"You interpret the card literally, but in this case that would mean your lungs are collapsing inside your chest."
He flips the top card, laying it face up between you. It depicts an instrument made of concentric rings, silver and gold. Beyond it, stars framed in an open window.
Physical literacy, the divines know how well you read the world.
"'CALIBRATION'." He touches the card, lightly. "The world is made of tools with which to change it. Can you recognise them?"
Branch
"I'm a materialist, I don't believe in this."
"You believe that a thing cannot exist which has no body?" he shows his teeth. "Disregard for a material does not unmake it."
Branch
"This card says I'm smart as hell."
"Useful properties for an assassin such as yourself. A shame for us you applied your gift so ignobly."
"It says I'm well balanced, a perfectly tuned instrument of death."
"Fitting for an assassin such as yourself. A shame for us you applied your gift so ignobly."
"It says I'm going on a long sea voyage."
"Obviously. We're on our way to Cicatriz Frontera. And we're taking a plane, as we've established."
"A mast... maybe a reference to the dick I'm pretty sure I lost in the womb."
"Do you imagine that you cannibalised yourself, or that your mother castrated you?"
"It was me. I reabsorbed my own dick."
"Afraid even in utero -- of what you could have done and what would have been expected of you."
"Bet it was her. Sabotage."
"You were raised in the shadow of envy." He shakes his head.
"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you." (Decline.)
Branch
"I thought fascists weren't supposed to gamble."
"This isn't gambling, it's divination. And I'm not the one putting something at stake."
"My friends are me, that's right."
"Assets, squad, whatever you call them... all distorted reflections of their gatherer."
"Here's my offer: You let them live, I let your goons live."
"What an offer. Tell me, if our situations were reversed, would you take it?"
"Definitely."
"Then you're a liar or an idiot. Possibly both."
"No."
"I wouldn't either. So we're aligned."
No. We can't say that.
Why not?
Because we need the gäng beside us. For when it gets really, really bad.
"Let's get on with it."
A familiar face, watching you with that impassive stare that teenage girls are the natural masters of.
Your controller was right: Yana has eluded the Weeping Eye's gaze. To them, she's simply a teenaged delinquent, skipping class for the day.
A few metres away, PSEUDOPOD can barely contain himself, his fist balled and trembling with nervous energy.
Alternative wording
A few metres away, PSEUDOPOD stares silently out the window, seemingly oblivious to the danger he's in.
Beneath your feet, HOLOCENE glances upward, hoping to catch your eye despite the metal ceiling between you.
Look around.
What about your friends? Do you not owe them, for everything they've given and are about to give for you?What about your friends? The dialectical counterforce, the only ones you've ever truly known to be on your…What about your friends? The ones who've been beside you this entire time...What about your friends? Those who keep you grounded, the only who give solidity to all your abstractions...
The cable groans overhead. A pensioner in a tracksuit coughs into his elbow. Further back, a trim young woman laughs, hanging on her friend's arm.
Branch
The shopgirl wearing headphones has closed her eyes. She must take this tram all the time.
The music carries her to her own pocket dimension. She has never and will never notice you.
Branch
The young watcher averts his eyes but his posture betrays his attention. He knows there's something up with the mysterious party of foreigners, and he's trying to work out what.
Meet his gaze.
His eyes go wide. His cheeks flush pink as he turns back to his mother.
Busted in-theatre.
Leave him be.
His eyes go wide. His cheeks flush pink as he turns back to his mother.
Give him a wink.
His cheeks flush pink but at the same time he can't repress a smile.
Confirmation. Stagecraft acknowledged. He'll remember this moment as long as he lives.
What about your friends? The dialectical counterforce, the only ones you've ever truly known to be on your side...
What about your friends? The ones who've been beside you this entire time...
What about your friends? Those who keep you grounded, the only who give solidity to all your abstractions...
"Now you're just making stuff up."
"I watched your ascent, but we were too late for anything but heavy retribution. Fortunately you detailed it…"The rest of your fanatical kill squad. They'll of course have their turn onstage. You told us all about them…"Thank you also for providing us with such a detailed signed confession. This will simplify the proceedings…"I wouldn't be so sure. You say some awfully ungenerous things about your controllers in your signed…
"I'm not. The relevant documents are all prepared and waiting for you. When the time comes, you'll only have to read the lines as written."
"I never read official documents before signing them."
"I watched your ascent, but we were too late for anything but heavy retribution. Fortunately you detailed it…"The rest of your fanatical kill squad. They'll of course have their turn onstage. You told us all about them…"Thank you also for providing us with such a detailed signed confession. This will simplify the proceedings…"I wouldn't be so sure. You say some awfully ungenerous things about your controllers in your signed…
"That's no problem. The relevant documents are all prepared and waiting for you. When the time comes, you'll only have to read the lines as written."
"But I didn't wang him, you wanged him!"
"What about my squad?"
"The rest of your fanatical kill squad. They'll of course have their turn onstage. You told us all about them in your signed confession."
"Game knows game." (Nod.)
"Thank you also for providing us with such a detailed signed confession. This will simplify the proceedings to come greatly."
"The Opera will come for me. I can hold out until then. Whatever you've got, I can take it."
"I wouldn't be so sure. You say some awfully ungenerous things about your controllers in your signed confession."
"Very entertaining story. You should turn it into a movie."
"A movie, yes. An overlong documentary, four or five parts, I'd expect."
Branch
Say nothing.
"Suffice to say," he wipes his eye, "you've got it all backward. Facundo may have gotten himself 'detained' by deviant accountants, but... excuse me..." He breaks into laughter once more, then composes himself.
"The real Facundo Reyes has gone. I let him go."
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be gone, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be gone, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be gone, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a depraved Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be gone, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a cowardly Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
"The real Facundo Reyes is already dead. I shot him myself on a little pier on the Pitol Tract."
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be already dead, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be already dead, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be already dead, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a cowardly Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You've got it backward. Facundo may be already dead, but the 'Grand Lich' was just shot by a depraved Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
"The real Facundo Reyes is already dead. I wanged him myself on a little pier on the Pitol Tract."
"The man I killed was only a body double."
Alternative wording
"The man you killed was only a body double."
"Deranged figments of a mind corroded by post-historical materialism."
"The mind plays strange tricks on the dying. She may have no memory of what she's done."
"Then let's return to reality: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"Then let's return to reality: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"Then let's return to reality: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a cowardly Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"Then let's return to reality: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a depraved Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
"Man, I don't even know anymore. Maybe that was the Lich."
"You'll find the people can't really deal with ambiguities, so let's remove one for them: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You'll find the people can't really deal with ambiguities, so let's remove one for them: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a perfidious Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You'll find the people can't really deal with ambiguities, so let's remove one for them: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a cowardly Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
Alternative wording
"You'll find the people can't really deal with ambiguities, so let's remove one for them: Your 'Grand Lich', our Minister for Mass Culture, was just shot by a depraved Opera assassin." He points a finger directly at your heart. "That would be you."
"Hyper-spy shit. The Weeping Eye is in tatters."
"Ohhhh, that's more like it. Good. More of that."
Branch
Branch
"I have to say, she saw right through me. It was quite a moving experience, actually."
"I was taken in by her conversational prowess. She spoke very movingly about death."
"I don't even know where I was. I'm unaccountable."
"You had no intention of letting the Lich live. I was just doing your dirty work."
Branch
"You could have stopped me. You didn't. Why not?"
"Sad as it is to say, your ideological debasement made possible feats of cunning and brutality that are utterly foreign to the refined techno mindset. My goons were simply outmatched."
"You'll see."
"Will we?" He glances at you, then looks down.
Say nothing.
"No, but seriously. What does it never get tired of?"
"You see how she's let you get inside your own head? She didn't have to do anything at all. You flummoxed yourself."
A strong line in theory, except that your voice slips and cracks on the final syllable.
The man to your left stifles a laugh in his gloved hand.
"I'm sorry, the Opera... what was it?"
"You heard me, techno-clowns."
"I missed it. Say it again."
"I said: 'The Opera never tires'."
It cracks again, just like the first time. It's like someone stepped on a child's squeaky toy.
BESMEARING THE IMAGE OF THE PARTY.
"Shame how far the Opera has fallen behind. Gasping for breath, about to be lapped by the field." He shakes his head slowly.
Elbows out as they pass, gäng.
"Which is why, in a desperate bid for international relevance, they've dispatched you, the cowardly Opera assassin, murderer of our own Minister of Mass Culture."
Branch
Say nothing.
"Let's talk this through..."
THE 'LICH' AT THE SHRINE WAS NOTHING BUT A SIMULACRUM. AGAINST FALSEHOOD, REALITY IS THE ONLY CARD LEFT TO PLAY.
"First off, I didn't assassinate anyone, you did, and it wasn't even the real Lich."
"That's alright. I think it still counts."
"It's not even the same guy! How could it count?"
"Who's to say what counts and what doesn't?" The composed goon glances out of the window.
"Pointless to deliberate. It counts." He doesn't even look over at you.
"Luckily we have a unanimous judgement," he nods. "It counts."
Your guts slide a couple of inches downwards.
"Maybe it's just me, but... you kind of sound like you knew that already."
"Let's say we really didn't. What now?"
... Intrigue?
Branch
"I can tell you what happened to the real Lich. We can make a deal."
"Is your forehead warm, operant? I'm afraid you're not making any sense..."
"You've been out-spied. The Opera come out on top, again."
The Hundred-Eyed Golem claps his hands softly. The sound is hollow, like metal.
"... in case you're still behind, that was not the real Lich."
"Oh, well. If you say it counts..."
"It counts." He nods, definitively.
"You've been out-spied. The Opera come out on top, again."
"You're quite right. We had no chance against you: the perfidious Opera assassin, murderer of our Minister of Mass Culture."
Branch
"That wasn't the real Lich at the summit. Keep up, please."
Alternative wording
"That wasn't the real Lich at the summit. Keep up, Hundred Nuts."
OPERANT CASCADE, IN RECOGNITION OF YOUR DISTINGUISHED SERVICE, THE PARTY HEREBY DISAVOWS ANY AND ALL KNOWLEDGE OF YOUR EXISTENCE.
"I'm ready to defect now, please."
"Defection? Pitiful. Desperate. The propagandists will love it."
"Please, Director-General. I'm techno-fascism's top brand ambassador in Portofiro."
"I'm not familiar with the initiative. Must be some new idiocy from Facundo's end of the building."
"You are metaphysically stunted, a spiritual subhuman. The only thing you're 'down with' is licking scum from the boots of your own desires."
"You could just say 'no'."
"Personally, I'd prefer a more worthy enemy, but we'll make do with you: the cowardly Opera assassin, murderer of our Minister of Mass Culture."
Branch
"I speak for the whole squad, obviously. I think we can make this work."
"It's already working. You're the cowardly Opera assassin, murderer of our Minister of Mass Culture."
Branch
"No, really. I just thought about it and actually I'm extremely down with techno-fascism."
"Again -- can you please tell me why you've accosted an innocent tourist?" (Lie your way through.)
Branch
"No. No-no-no. I'm afraid this 'tourist' thing has worn thin already. It's time to commit to what you are: the perfidious Opera assassin, murderer of our Minister of Mass Culture."
"This is no good. You're going to have to keep better track of your lies. It's time to commit to what you are: the perfidious Opera assassin, murderer of our Minister of Mass Culture."
"And in that room?"
"Can we just get to the point?"
"Of course, it's also my role to protect my brother-imprints when duty takes them abroad. Which is what brings me to this place."
"Maybe 'One-Eyed Golem' would be a better fit, considering your affiliation."
"Too obvious, though? Now that you say it out loud..." He tugs at his earlobe. "Not exactly expansive either."
"It also sounds like a penis."
"Let me go and I'll tell the Opera. I'll tell them to change the concept."
"So what can we do about it? Rushed concept aside, I think we all agree the number is the key element here."
"More eyes would make even less sense..."
"I think 'Thousand-Eyed' would play nicely. Seems like the logical next step."
Your controller paces the small area behind her desk. Her Novessa colleagues are surprised -- so rarely is she on her feet. You are all that fills her mind.
"I think so. A thousand is a number with weight to it."
"Look man, fuck your eyes."
"Here I thought I'd finally get to engage on the subject." He sighs. "Maybe it's only old men care about the meaning of words anymore."
"The discourse is in the toilet, I'm afraid." He turns his head. "Real communication, more difficult than ever."
"The Lich got the cool name, I agree."
Alternative wording
"The Lich got the cool name, I agree."
"It's my horrible burden to look into the hearts of humanity and weigh their contents. There's nothing 'cool' about it."
"Where are you going with this?"
"It's my horrible burden to look into the hearts of humanity and weigh their contents. I take my role very seriously."
"Please. I'm simply a sock importer doing a little sightseeing before I return to the People's Republics."
Branch
"A tourist, fine." He sighs. "And how did you find the shrine to our deathless heroes?"
"Yes, all of it. Anthropologically fascinating."
"Let's not pretend there was anything worth seeing there. A few gaudy statues and some dubious informational plaques."
"If it weren't for my current obligations I would keep myself very far from it."
"Let's not pretend there was anything worth seeing there. A few gaudy statues and some dubious informational…"The 'Throne of Canopus'. A few culturally significant rocks and a dubious informational plaque.""Interesting. I found it instantly depressing. A polyp of decadence.""I would say 'a polyp of decadence', but we're on the same page there.""I wouldn't call it a 'must-see' attraction, personally."
"She was much more polite before. You could have a conversation with her."
Branch
"I liked the very old shrine."
"The 'Throne of Canopus'. A few culturally significant rocks and a dubious informational plaque."
"I thought the gift shop was nice."
"Interesting. I found it instantly depressing. A polyp of decadence."
"I thought the gift shop was tacky."
"I would say 'a polyp of decadence', but we're on the same page there."
"I found nothing to like in that imperialist pageantry."
"I wouldn't call it a 'must-see' attraction, personally."
"What's the problem with it?"
"Your epithet means nothing to me."
"That's the problem, isn't it?" He shifts in his seat.
"Please. I'm simply a sock importer doing a little sightseeing before I return to the People's Republics."
Branch
"I don't know anything about some 'Operant CASCADE'. I'm just a tourist."
"I always thought it was chosen especially for me."
"Which makes me wonder, have you grown to fit the name?"
"You'd have to ask my controller."
"I would love the chance to debrief a real Opera controller. Unfortunately, it's been a very long time since we took one alive and intact."
"Who is this 'CASCADE' you refer to? I don't know who you're talking about."
"Come on, operant. No need to play stupid games any longer."