"I'll be off soon so get whatever you need now."

"I'll be off soon so get whatever you need now."

"Let's get back to what happened with your father."

"Um, yeah, let's just get into it. Though... it's kind of embarrassing." She wraps her coat tighter around her.

Embarrassment isn't the problem. A much darker feeling is trying to claw its way into her consciousness.

"My dad developed this insane theory about the payphone to the western exit of the Bazaar."

HOLD ON, OPERANT. This is the phone Yana mentioned. The one even you now know is tapped.

"Maurito said your dad thought EMTERR had it tapped?"

"Yeah. He thought if you said certain words into it, and they were listening in, you'd get snatched."

"Why did he think it was EMTERR making people vanish?"

"Bagman did an episode on them and so Gilmar started following random people, thinking they were from the Bank. Not long after, he roped my dad into it."

"And what's the EMTERR type according to Bagman?"

"Guys in expensive business suits, usually. Foreign accents, verbally abusive, and tight with their money -- except when it comes to treating a client."

"What did he say were they up to?"

"Normal rich guy stuff. Hitting up the bars and shouting abuse at the local drunks. Then they disappeared into penthouses where they couldn't be followed."

"Sounds like a good point to call it quits."

"Yeah, that's what mi viejo thought. He went home, but Gilmar stayed out... and then he called my dad around two in the morning."

"He'd overheard something and was explaining it when the call just cut off. My dad went by his house the next day but Gilmar wasn't there."

"Lot of people missing in this city."

"Mm-hm. I asked my dad if the phone call was a nightmare, or if he forgot Gilmar was going on a trip. I thought maybe the show was getting into his head, you know?"

"Dad really believed it, though. He looked for him for two weeks, reported him missing to the GMs... nothing."

Why would EMTERR care about a couple of impressionable old men?

"And not long after, your dad was gone, too."

"Yeah." She glances away. "He looked for Gilmar for two weeks, reported him missing to the GMs... nothing."

"So the evil phone really is eating people. It's got a taste for human flesh."

"It's not funny! My dad was really freaked." She shakes her head. "I asked him if the phone call was all a nightmare, or if he forgot Gilmar was going on a trip. I thought maybe the show was getting into his head, you know?"

"The perfect time to follow harder."

"That's what Gilmar thought. He stayed out after my viejo went home... and then he called my dad around two in the morning."

"Did they stop?"

"Mi viejo did. But Gilmar stayed out... and then he called my dad around two in the morning."

"So you're saying your father said some special words on that payphone, and EMTERR got him?"

Alternative wording

"So you're saying EMTERR got Gilmar, and then they got your dad?"

"A couple days ago, he stopped by the stall to bring me lunch, then... he said he was going to make a call."

"I wasn't nervous at first, I figured there was no risk of anything actually happening. Then he didn't come home."

Washing out the container that carried homemade rice and beans, glancing out the window above the sink as the sun goes down.

Don't look at the clock. Don't look. Don't...

"He got himself disappeared on purpose?"

"No! I mean... he just can't leave things alone when he gets an idea into his head."

Momentarily, the mumbling from the nearby stalls hushes, listening.

"No offense, but that sounds highly unlikely."

"Yeah, of course, you're right. Crazy old man shit. He probably just wandered off."

"I see."

"Yeah." She gulps and straightens herself out. "It's just crazy old man shit. He probably just wandered off."

"What are the words he thought set it off?"

"They seem pretty random. Cousins, moon, reunion..."

"Do those words mean anything to you?"

"On their own? Sure. Together? Gibberish."

"How'd he know those were the words?"

Alternative wording

"That's what Gilmar said to him on the phone before it cut off?"

"I guess. When he tried to tell me, I wasn't really paying attention to him." She frowns. "He had those written down on a pad in his bedroom -- he told me not to say them if I used the phone. It all sounded so silly..."

"His friend, Gilmar, called him from that phone after he'd spent the night following around some EMTERR guys. They were both big into the conspiracy stuff."

"Alright, got the measure of that." (Conclude.)

"Wait, that jail you mentioned, did you see anything? Anything at all?"

Alternative wording

"Wait, that jail you mentioned, did you see anything else? Anything at all?"

"They sent him to Ile-de-Söze."

"Ile-de-Söze?! Dad's never been to Ile-de-Söze. He's never even been out of Portofiro!"

That did it. She's becoming hysterical.

"I... I can't talk right now. I need a moment."

She turns away from you and her stand, burrowing deeper into her hoodie.

"He was definitely there at one point... but he's not anymore."

"Okay. Okay." She sucks in a breath. "Maybe they let him out, like you? Or maybe... he's..."

"I didn't get inside yet."

"Okay... okay." She sucks in a breath. "Maybe this is all just a misunderstanding."

"I managed to get out of there before they could catch me."

"Catch you?" Her eyes move left to right. "Maybe... maybe dad did the same."

Words that deny the frailty of his aging legs.

"I got electro-interrogated by a bitch in ugly gumboots."

"Interrogated?" Her voice goes faint. "Did they hurt you?"

"Tased the hell out of me. Solid chance she tortured your dad, too."

She lets out a hiccupy groan, presses her fist to her lips.

"No, it wasn't too bad." (Lie.)

"Okay..."

She can tell you're smoothing it over for her.

"I didn't see your father, but they let me go, so..."

"That's good. I'm glad you're okay." Her breath rate rises rapidly. "If they had him, they must have let him go too, when they realised he was just a crazy old man..."

She can't believe you. She can't believe herself.

"I saw nothing of your father." (Lie.)

"Phew, I mean..." Her breath rate rises rapidly. "That just means he's somewhere else."

"No, nothing. I'm sorry."

Alternative wording

"No, nothing else. I'm sorry."

"Okay. He's probably just lost in some other part of town..." She giggles uncomfortably. "Listen to me, I sound like Bagman..."

Not really. Bagman doesn't sound like he's trying his hardest not to cry.

Like something trying their hardest not to cry?

"Anyway." She blinks under her hood. "You wanna buy anything else?"

"Anyway." She blinks under her hood. "You want a wig? I hear they make you fun at parties."

"Dad and his friend Gilmar were big into conspiracies. They were obsessed with 'The Reality Situation' -- they really bought all that stuff."

"Dad and his friend Gilmar were big into conspiracies. They were obsessed with this show, 'The Reality Situation' -- they really bought all that stuff."

"Don't worry. It's probably not the most insane thing I've ever heard."

"Dad thought certain words said into the right phone gets you attention from the wrong people. He was convinced EMTERR was behind it all."

EMTERR, a.k.a. L'Empire sans Territoire, a.k.a. 'The Bank'. Equal parts global development fund and spy service. Linchpin of the Developed World.

THE BLOODY HAND OF TRANSNATIONAL CAPITAL.

"Go on."

"Wait... is this about the Miracle Line?"

"No! He's not... like that." She blushes.

"Is this about the Civilisation Trust?"

"I don't know what that is." Her brow furrows.

"Is this about the Snake People?"

"That photograph -- who was that man?"

"Mi viejo, my dad... he's been missing a few days."

"Does your dad have a name?"

"Right, I should have started with that, I guess?" She tugs at the string of her hoodie, compulsively. "His name's Eno Krantz."

Her eyes are bloodshot, hair lank.

Aren't you looking for someone who's missing, too?

"Was his memory going?"

"Um... he's kind of forgetful, sometimes. Not a lot, but... I'm just worried. I told him watching too much TV was making him crazy."

She raises her hand to bite her nails. A new habit -- they're bleeding.

Anyone regularly listening to Bagman's sermons on reality could easily lose their grip of the thing.

"Sounds like a case of Bagmanitis."

"Bagman? Yes! That was it. After dad retired, his friend Gilmar turned him onto 'The Reality Situation'. They got obsessed. Had them convinced they were 'truth detectives'."

"Which apparently means someone who goes around looking for evidence of invisible aircraft carriers and iodine-deficient children."

"Dad and Gilmar were always 'following up on leads' and calling into the show... it felt like Bagman was encouraging them, you know?"

Who in their right mind would not follow up on an invisible aircraft carrier?

"Who knows, maybe they were onto something?"

"Oh, so you're like... into that, too." She wraps her coat tighter around her. "Maybe you'll get this, then."

"Sounds like this 'Bagman' preys on vulnerable old people."

"That's what I was scared of." She wraps her coat tighter around her. "Look... this is kind of embarrassing."

"This is all pretty confusing to me."

"Okay, well, look... this is kind of embarrassing." She wraps her coat tighter around her.

"And it's just a guy with a paper bag on his head rambling about invisible aircraft carriers and iodine-deficient children."

"Old people and television, dangerous combination."

"After dad retired, his friend Gilmar turned him on to this show, 'The Reality Situation'. They were obsessed. Had them convinced they were 'truth detectives'."

"TV can't make you crazy."

"He can't have just wandered off?"

"No, I mean, that's the most likely scenario, right?" She wraps her coat tighter around her. "Ugh, this is... kind of embarrassing."

"He's probably fine. Anyway, about these party supplies..." (Move on.)

"Right, yeah. Anything else you want to look at?"

"Right, yeah. You want a wig? I hear they make you fun at parties."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm just worried." She shakes her head. "I told him watching too much TV was making him crazy."

Television doesn't destroy minds, you fool. It moulds them.

"I wouldn't worry about it. He'll probably turn up soon enough."

"Yeah. Probably." She starts biting her nails. "I told him watching too much TV was making him crazy."

She's fading. No sleep. Three, maybe four days now.

"So not a long time, in the scheme of things. Not like... five years, say."

"He's... not around, and I can't find him anywhere." She giggles strangely.

"Sorry to hear. Must be tough."

"He probably just started walking and got lost." She shrugs, putting extra effort into it. "Old people do that kind of thing."

"Portofiro's a big place. Plenty of people get lost in it."

"Yeah. He probably just started walking and got lost." She shrugs, putting extra effort into it. "Old people do that kind of thing."

"I'm looking for someone too. A colleague. Have you met a guy who was really into socks recently?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. He came by. Nice man. Talked a lot about socks."

"Tell me about him."

"He was... normal? Pretty forgettable, if I'm honest. I told him, unless your socks are mismatched and neon-coloured, I'm not much use to you."

"Any idea where he went? Something's happened to him, I'm trying to trace his steps."

"Not really. Wandered off into the bazaar."

Looking you straight in the eyes, sympathetic. She really doesn't know.

"What do you mean... 'something's happened'? Did he use the phone?"

"Don't think so. I know where he is, just not what happened."

"Oh..." She recedes back into her hood. "At least you have that."

"What phone?"

"Ah, nothing. Just something my Dad said once... actually, he said it more than once. He said it a lot."

"Thanks anyway." (Move on.)

"Sorry. Yeah. I was kind of distracted when he showed up..."

Sock merchant. One of the Opera's most battle-tested covers.

"I'm looking for someone, too. Have you seen a guy in a brown jacket, bald spot, glasses?"

"Do you know what this is?" (Show Red Disc.)

"That's Ultra Violeta, the Luzian pop star. Always thought that type of music was too young for me, but I've been enjoying her stuff recently for some reason..."

"Have you heard of this song, 'You But From a Dream'?"

"No... but it's definitely her kind of title."

She peers at the disc again, blonde hair falling over her face.

"Weird disc, that. You should ask Petre at the music stall over there, he'll know more. Doubt he's an Ultra, though." A knowing smile.

"This disc is from Luz?"

"Ultra Violeta definitely is. The disc could be anything, a bootleg, a fan imitation, an actual release..."

"I hear you have a new boss. A teenage girl."

"Oh yeah. She's cool. Intimidating too, despite the size."

"We hang out sometimes, in the back of the stall. She's been good about this thing with my Dad. Old soul."

"Do you have any monkey plush toys?"

She produces a lovely little monkey from the stack beside her stall.

"Cute gift," she sighs.

Buy the Monkey Plushie.

"Enjoy your nice little monkey."

"That's not five... that's less..."

"Actually, you keep it." (Go back.)

"Fine."

"Where is plushie #3? They're all missing."

"Missing? Maybe they followed my Dad..."

"The glasses your photo-man is wearing -- I found them at the bottom of a trash bin." (Show them to her.)

"What?" Her face contorts. "What were they doing there?"

"I don't know, but it's right outside the secret jail."

"He... he probably dropped them and someone threw them away thinking they were broken." Her eyes dart back and forth. "That makes sense."

A scenario she has been forced to create in order to ignore a heartbreaking truth.

"Would you like to keep hold of them?"

"Er... no, no. Thanks for finding them," she says, her arms visibly shaking.

"Er... no, no. Thanks for finding them," she says, her arms visibly shaking. "Wanna buy some costume accessories?"

"Do you mind if I keep hold of them?"

"Hm? Oh, sure. Thanks for finding them," she says, her arms visibly shaking.

"Hm? Oh, sure. Thanks for finding them," she says, her arms visibly shaking. "Wanna buy some costume accessories?"

Say nothing.

"Well, anyway, thanks for finding them," she says, her arms visibly shaking.

"Well, anyway, thanks for finding them," she says, her arms visibly shaking. "Wanna buy some costume accessories?"

"Not sure. At least they've been found." (Keep the truth from her.)

"It's the dumping ground of a nearby secret jail."

"A jail?"

The words fade almost to nothing as they leave her mouth.

"Oh no. He was right."

"He was right all along."

"Did you see anything? Anything at all?"

Alternative wording

"Did you see anything else? Anything at all?"

"Unless I have also gone crazy. Which is possible."

"Please..." Her desperation almost brings her to tears. "I just need to know if you saw anything? Anything at all?"

Alternative wording

"Please..." Her desperation almost brings her to tears. "I just need to know if you saw anything else? Anything at all?"

"I'm sorry."

"Your dad? What was he right about?"

"Who was right?"

"Uh... mi viejo. My -- my dad. He's missing."

Her voice is thin -- she's not strong enough to carry them alone.

"I suspect that it's the dumping ground of a nearby secret jail."

"No idea." (Lie)

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"No idea."

"I said the words into the payphone but nothing happened."

"What?! That's so dangerous. You could have been killed, or worse..."

Behind her concern, a note of admiration, and a small shred of hope.

"I'm okay, promise. Let me worry about me."

"Just, please, be careful. I don't know how I would feel if I was responsible for you disappearing too."

"This is my choice. I want to help you find your father."

"Thank you!" She beams, looking slightly less fragile. "Okay, look, I think I know why you didn't get snatched. Mi viejo mentioned something like that..."

"Gilmar had been snooping around the water-lock to the east of the Bazaar when he got snatched. That might be the missing bit?"

"Why the eastern water-lock?"

"No idea. I think dad looked around there himself, but before he could tell me what he found, he was..."

Gone.

"Isn't the office of the Noscorrentes Review over there?"

"Is that a newsletter or something?" She shrugs. "I'll take your word for it. That building always looked dingy to me."

If what she says is true, then that payphone might be another way for you to get into the basement of that magzine office.

If what she says is true, that magazine office just got a whole lot more suspicious.

If what she says is true, that magazine office would be worth casing out in full.

"The office of the Noscorrentes Review is over there."

"Thanks for the lead. We might be onto something here." (Proceed.)

"Uhh, just don't get hurt. And please, please come back." Her hands come together in prayer for a second.

"Maybe I am being a bit reckless..."

"I would say so." Her eyes peer at you with worry. "But, look, if you really are interested, I think I know why you didn't get snatched. Mi viejo mentioned something like that..."

"This might be the only way to get to the bottom of what happened to your father."

"I, uh... maybe you're right." She breathes, gathers herself. "But for the record: I don't expect you to help me like this, and if you want to give up you can at any time."

"Danger is what I do."

"I hope that's not true. But, uh, if you're sure about this, then..." She breathes, gathers herself. "For the record: I don't expect you to help me like this, and if you want to give up you can at any time."

"We can't find meaning in our lives if we don't search for it everywhere we can."

"I guess... Well, if you're sure about this..." "But for the record: I don't expect you to help me like this, and if you want to give up you can at any time."

"I used that payphone and got grabbed, just like your dad said."

"What? You couldn't have -- you're right here..."

And he isn't.

She's been keeping some little lights glowing inside herself -- to guide his safe return. Now they have started to flicker, dim.

"I ended up in that secret jail I told you about."

"Maybe I got lucky. Maybe your dad did, too."

"Or he was never there..." She rubs the ends of her sleeves with her fingers. "Maybe it's all just a coincidence then."

"After saying the keywords, I woke up in a secret EMTERR jail."

Look around the stall.

Wig topiary, plastic tiaras, novelty sunglasses. A burst of colours and textures vying for your attention. All of them losing.

Behind it all you see an oddly familiar shape. The tailored shoulders, the sharp collar.

The shape is robust and clean, with an architectural asymmetry. Like a knife.

A cape. But nothing like the other costume pieces around it.