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"Shh."
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End of this branch
Branch
"Yes?"
Branch
"Is this a disguise?"
"Yes. Couldn't show up in my exporter gear, any socksman worth their license would be able to spot me as one of them immediately. Now..." He spreads his arms.
"... I'm just a simple local pelota man."
"Why can't you ever just be wearing pants?"
"These are pants. Of a sort. Get off my dick."
"You look obscene. You're going to draw all their attention."
"Well. Good. You can do your whatever while their eyes on me and these babies."
He brandishes a socked knee.
"Feel free to take notes."
Branch
"Nice, yeah. You don't look like a sock exporter at all."
"Yep. Nobody who knew their stuff would import these babies"
"What's your 'exporter gear'?"
"My suit."
"What's special about your suit to make it exporter gear?"
"I export things in it."
"Here, a prop for your disguise." (Hand him the pelota ball.)
He reaches out to take the ball, a trembling wonder to his lower lip.
"How did you know to bring this?" He rolls it around in his hand, unable to meet your gaze. "Thank you."
Branch
"How do you like the Crew?"
Branch
"I was hoping to speak with you about your friend HOLOCENE, actually. He seems confused."
"Confused how?"
"He told me that I'm 'conceptually incoherent' and 'an existential security threat due to existing'."
"He also said I wasn't 'M.I.H.O. material'. Then he wouldn't tell me what M.I.H.O. was, so I'm not sure I would feel comfortable applying in any case."
"He's a sock master; you have to do as he says."
"A... master? I shall have to make an investigation of his weft."
Branch
"And KALEIDOSCOPE is... well. He doesn't strike me as the kind of man who only uses his socks for wearing, if you know what I mean."
He's calling him a masturbator.
"Massive pervert. Best not to even make eye contact."
"I never would have worn merino around him had I known. I should have. He strikes me as fundamentally sinister."
A red disc passes from one man's hand to another, then disappears into a leather briefcase.
Branch
A red disc passes from one man's hand to another, then disappears into a leather briefcase."Keep it together CASCADE, this isn't the time for whimsy. He just strikes me as extremely... horrible.""Ah. You are of the vulva persuasion. I shan't burden you with the knowledge.""Clearly takes his senses far too seriously." He sniffs and clacks his shoes against the ground.
"On what grounds?"
"I don't know... he just strikes me as fundamentally frightening. Sinister. Evil."
Branch
A red disc passes from one man's hand to another, then disappears into a leather briefcase.
"...Critically wrong. A real... polyester blend of a man. Perhaps even rubber." He shudders. "Maybe it's just the moustache."
"You don't like him because he killed you."
"Keep it together CASCADE, this isn't the time for whimsy. He just strikes me as extremely... horrible."
"You don't like him because he wanged you."
"What other uses are there?"
"It's the headphones."
"Clearly takes his senses far too seriously." He sniffs and clacks his shoes against the ground.
"Yana won't talk to me. Which is bothering me because... I have this nagging sense that I know her."
Does the imprint recognise another, or does he recognise Tempo?
"Know her how?"
"I can't quite place her. It's something about the way she speaks -- always seems surprised by whatever comes out of her mouth."
So, creatures made by the imprinting device can see its mark on one another's minds. They know themselves, even if they don't.
"She's an imprint, like you."
"Imprint. Imprint." He smacks the word around in his mouth. "Mmm. No, not familiar. Must have passed her a few times in the halls back at the factory..."
Branch
"She's an old friend from the sock factory."
"Oh! Of course. Yes. I remember her from the..."
His eyes cross.
Internal white noise, max volume.
"...cafeteria. Yes."
Impressive self-editing. He's utterly delusional.
Gets that from his proto-gäng.
"Don't mind him, been darned too many times if you know what I mean."
"Oh, I know exactly what you mean." He taps his head. "Seen it myself."
No self-awareness whatsoever.
"I spoke with Karolina. She's very good undercover -- had me almost believing that she didn't know a thing about socks."
"You should do that too. No more sock talk."
"Yeah, shit. No more socks. Socks are dull, I know nothing about them."
He hits you with a wink.
"She doesn't know anything about socks, she's an intelligence asset."
"What, you all coordinated your covers already? Okay... cool. Yeah. Guess I don't need to be included."
"We still have a few hours until the tram arrives..."
"Want to go over anything? Weave, fabrics, assassination. I'm all ears."
No way we're going to hang out with the sock guy...
"Yeah, let's pass the time together." (Proceed.)
"Cool. Breezy."
One of his socks slips a little on his thigh. He hoists it back up.
"I'm usually more muscular than this." He points at his thighs. "I have real sock holding thighs usually. I'll show you one day. You'll be impressed."
This man has never seen athleticism.
"Yeah man. I see potential in those things."
"Yep." He slaps one. "Good eye."
He smiles at you, a benevolent and kindly expression.
"I see potential in you too, comrade. We'll hit the iron together when we're home."
Home?
"What do you mean? We don't live together."
"We... sure we do. I remember."
Fizzy look behind his eyes.
"We'll go back to... to... wherever we live. And there'll be more assignments."
Branch
"More assignments, that's all you want?"
"Of course. It's the work. What else is there to want?"
Eyebrows knotting, unable to imagine a desire. Look at you.
I want things. I have side things.
Which all turn out to be work-related in some way.
"You could just hang out."
"That seems morally irresponsible with all these textile infiltrators stinking up the place."
He hunches his shoulders and seems suddenly small, distant, yet familiar.
This is the version of yourself who stood taciturn and vacant at the back of the student socialist meetings. Frustrated by inaction, angry at everything.
Branch
"I have no idea."
"Well. Me neither."
A male version of me... What if the Opera prefer him?
Undoubtedly they will. Look at that narrow pelvis, that prominent brow. The pure exuding maleness of him.
Maybe you've solved a cosmic mistake, you were supposed to be him all along.
Even Melita, will she want him more?
Of course she will. She's a woman. Some may pretend otherwise but ultimately, they all long for cock.
With any luck he'll keep you around as a fuckhole, incubator, or maidservant.
Branch
Shit. I've trained my own replacement.
Should have seen it coming. But you didn't. Because you have a deformed little lady brain.
"I'm not having you dragging me down."
Branch
"You are dragged down by the sinister forces which have infiltrated the sock manufacturing industry, not me."
"Together, we can destroy these Luzians for good."
"You are dragged down by the sinister forces which have infiltrated the sock manufacturing industry, not me.""Socks come in pairs, CASCADE.""I'll drag your corpse back home if I have to. But I won't slow you down.""But... Melita wouldn't pair us like this for no reason. We're meant to redeem the textile industry together.""That's right. Sinister forces have invaded the sock manufacturing industry.""Socks come in pairs.""Fight together.""I knew that Melita wouldn't pair us like this no for reason. We're fated to redeem the textile industry…
CONFUSED EQUATION, CORRECT SOLUTION.
He holds out his hand, a look of harrowed determination settling across his face.
CONFUSED EQUATION, CORRECT SOLUTION."I knew I had strings attached to me somewhere -- I had no idea it was you who was pulling them. Very well.""One sock always seems to wear faster than the other. If I'm to be threadbare, so be it.""It's pathetic that you can't bear the weight of your own grief. But I will carry it for you.""Fine. I'm already so full of grief, I won't even notice the burden of more."
Delusional but dedicated.
The revolutionary spirit.
Shake his hand.
He closes his fingers around your palm, holding rather than shaking.
Soft.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
The tram lines creak and crackle above you as the carriage lumbers into view, stained with mist.
"Ready.""Kill the fuck out of him." He nods at you."It's... I... friendly! It's intended to be friendly! Damn it." He drops your hand. "Let's just kill this…Disturbed by our own affection. Fucking grim."Ahem. Yes. It's time." He flashes you a quick smile, then turns his attention to the arriving tram."Of course. Lead on."
"The tram's here. We should... split up."
"Let's kill an evil sock man."
"Kill the fuck out of him." He nods at you.
"Let's wang an evil sock man."
"Gay little caress you've got there."
"It's... I... friendly! It's intended to be friendly! Damn it." He drops your hand. "Let's just kill this bastard."
Ignore the hand, hug him.
He hesitates, then puts his arms around you.
"This is nice."
"Yes. Right. I think we should... go."
"I don't want to."
You feel him squirming slightly in your arms.
He's just getting comfortable. In for the deep squeeze.
"Right. Shall we go now?"
"No."
"I'd like to. Go."
"A little more."
"Eughg."
He wiggles out of your grip like an insect shedding its skin.
"My bad. I got scared."
Disturbed by our own affection. Fucking grim.
"Alright, it's time." (Let go.)
"Ahem. Yes. It's time." He flashes you a quick smile, then turns his attention to the arriving tram.
"Let's go."
He lets out a choked sigh before dropping his hand to his side.
"Of course. Lead on."
"Socks come in pairs, CASCADE."
"I'll drag your corpse back home if I have to. But I won't slow you down."
"But... Melita wouldn't pair us like this for no reason. We're meant to redeem the textile industry together."
Alternative wording
"But... the pelota ball. We're fated to redeem the textile industry together."
"Yeah. Of course there'll be more assignments together. You're my double."
Branch
"That's right. Sinister forces have invaded the sock manufacturing industry."
"Socks come in pairs."
"Fight together."
"I knew that Melita wouldn't pair us like this no for reason. We're fated to redeem the textile industry together."
Alternative wording
"I knew it. The pelota ball. We're fated to redeem the textile industry together."
"You'll stay with me, but as my talisman -- all my sins I shed onto you."
"What sins?"
"I fucked up. You're going to be my fuck up receptacle."
"Is that why you brought me?"
"Of course."
PSEUDOPOD stares at you for a long time.
Behind his glasses, his eyes glisten.
Branch
"I knew I had strings attached to me somewhere -- I had no idea it was you who was pulling them. Very well."
"One sock always seems to wear faster than the other. If I'm to be threadbare, so be it."
"It's pathetic that you can't bear the weight of your own grief. But I will carry it for you."
"Fine. I'm already so full of grief, I won't even notice the burden of more."
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that."
"Yes, sometimes I can't believe the things that come out of my mouth."
"You're not a real person. Maybe shame won't feel so bad."
"You know that makes neither of us real, don't you?"
"You are going to your own house. Not mine."
"My house is your house. We live together. I remember."
"You're built like a fried shrimp on two skewers."
"You're built like an eel." Calmly. "All straight and long."
"But don't worry, I see potential in you too. We'll hit the iron together when we're home."
"I have never been impressed in my life."
"That's because you haven't met me at my full power."
He is exactly like you.
"Actually, I'm going to check on Karolina." [Leave.]
"I'll be here."
"Actually, I'm going to check on HOLOCENE." [Leave.]
"Let's hang out." (Proceed.)
"Excellent. There was something I was hoping to speak with you about. As a comrade."
"Keep up the good work." [Leave.]
"I know of no other mode."
"Comrade."
Woven sweater, triple bands around the wrists and neck. Thigh high socks. He's wearing a pelota kit.
So bad at undercover that he practically is the cover -- everyone will be transfixed by this amateur.
Branch
Branch
"Focus, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"..."
Branch
"..."
Branch
"You're supposed to be undercover."
"..."
"Why didn't you put pants on?"
"..."
"Cool, nice. Good fit."
"..."
The tip of his tongue emerges to lick a spot of drool from his lip.
Branch
"I cannot work with this."
"..."
"We still have a few hours until the tram arrives..."
"..."
You're going to spend the final hour talking to a walking lobotomy?
Branch
Karolina shoots you a confused look across the platform.
Branch
"Let's pass the time together." (Proceed.)
"..."
PSEUDOPOD's gaze seems to alight on a pair of magpies, circling overhead. His nostrils flare as he breathes.
Branch
Observe him.
Hair lengthens on his chin. Slowly, slowly.
"Are you in there?"
"..."
No thoughts, no fear, no desire. Only pure, drooling immediacy.
The perfect being.
An abomination by every possible measure.
Branch
"Great day to be us, right?"
"..."
"I fucked you up, didn't I."
"..."
"We are going to smash this Lich up. I can feel it."
"..."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"..."
INSUBORDINATION.
Things rustle in nature around you, rocks shift underfoot.
INSUBORDINATION.There's nothing in there. You cannot count on 'nothing'.Is that a frown? He's puzzling it out. Give him a moment.Glacial.THE SILENCE OF TRUE SOLIDARITY.You could marry him for real after this, just think of all the arguments you'd never have.Listen to him. Unperterbable, unmovable. True gäng.Your recall the THWACK of foot making contact with his forehead. He looks hurt, lost. His glasses are on…Maybe you've got it all wrong and he's too deep in thought. You've seen this expression before on many a…
"..."
Branch
Rub the bald spot for luck. Again.
You reach out and caress the smooth island atop his dome. The rubbability remains highly pleasing.
Branch
"I don't deserve words, either. Because of my wrongs."
"..."
Hark his reverential silence, a devoutly sworn oath. He will not utter a word until the Lich lies dead.
And then?
It's obvious. He will speak the sacred truth of yourself.
"You're punishing yourself, right? This is a vow of silence."
Hark his reverential silence, a devoutly sworn oath. He will not utter a word until the Lich lies dead.It's obvious. He will speak the sacred truth of yourself.Perhaps. Perhaps there are pants penitent enough in this world for one so dedicated -- perhaps he shall…Tragic, uninspired. This is repentance in its most advanced form!
"..."
"Two can play at that game. I'll never speak to you again."
"..."
Branch
"..."
"..."
Branch
"..."
"..."
ADMIRABLE VERBAL AUSTERITY. ESCALATE.
"..."
"..."
Yeah, silent with gäng. Harder!
"..."
"..."
He isn't listening.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Branch
"This is a set up."
Ah! Shit!
"What the fuck!"
"..."
His head turns slightly at the sound of the tram arriving.
Your cue.
"..."
"I knew it."
"What do you mean?"
"It's already happened."
"We're already fucked."
"All is forgiven."
"Why won't you fucking talk to me?"
"..."
"I'm begging you."
"..."
"I'll be better this time, I swear."
His head turns slightly at the sound of the tram arriving.
Your cue.
"..."
"If we die here it's your fault for not talking to me!"
"You are me!"
"..."
"I'm sorry for Mega Violating you."
"..."
"Fine. Fuck you! Let's kill this fucking Lich." [Leave.]
"..."
"Fine. Fuck you! Let's wang this fucking Lich." [Leave.]
Just leave.
"..."
"Wow. I respect it. I'll tell Melita of your plight."
"..."
No reaction whatsoever.
Thinks he's too good for Melita! Disrespecting Melita!
He's just too stunned with gratitude to respond.
"Yep. I'm the best lead ever."
"..."
"Don't give me that attitude. We have a Lich to kill."
"..."
He'll get it. The sight of the fascists will activate his primal bloodlust.
"You're welcome."
"..."
He isn't welcome. He isn't anything.
"You think you're out of her league, do you? Think you're a catch?"
"..."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"..."
You always knew that something like this would happen to you. Something very bad and very serious.
"Well, you're not, you're nothing."
"..."
He is you.
"You think you're more dedicated to sorrow than I am?"
Hark his reverential silence, a devoutly sworn oath. He will not utter a word until the Lich lies dead.It's obvious. He will speak the sacred truth of yourself.Perhaps. Perhaps there are pants penitent enough in this world for one so dedicated -- perhaps he shall…Tragic, uninspired. This is repentance in its most advanced form!
"..."
"Fuck you. I'm just as wretched as you are." (Take off your pants.)
"..."
You feel goosebumps stand on your shins.
This is it, real fucking operant outfit.
"You know... I feel more connected to you like this."
"..."
He clearly agrees. He's just intimidated by your stature or you'd be rubbing your thighs together right now.
"Alright.. let's do this."
He turns his head slightly at the sound of the tram. A breeze rustles through his shin hair, like fields of shrivelled wheat.
"..."
"Just, try to look normal. Okay?"
"Shit. We look like we're here to do rapes."
"..."
Put a little extra sway into the shoulders when you walk, you won't look rapey if you keep it smooth.
"The last thing the Lich will see is good communist underwear."
"..."
COWER BEFORE THE POORLY MAINTAINED BUSH OF THE PEOPLE.
"Maybe you are. Maybe you're the sadder Operant."
"..."
"We could drown the Lich in our tears."
"..."
Darkness in his eyes. Inviting.
Look into the darkness.
You let your focus tunnel into the darkness. It welcomes you, wraps you in an empty, loving embrace. You feel its arms around your waist, its breath on your shoulder. What is it?
PSEUDOPOD.
A dead man's arms, stretching through time to hold you close. This might be goodbye.
"We can weep together after we wreck this guy, alright?"
Darkness in his eyes. Inviting.A dead man's arms, stretching through time to hold you close. This might be goodbye.Clutching harder, pulling at you, trying to come back up with you. She cannot scream, you severed her from…The void holds you close, a lover's caress along your spine. This might be hello.
"I suppose we'll have one more thing to regret after today."
Darkness in his eyes. Inviting.A dead man's arms, stretching through time to hold you close. This might be goodbye.Clutching harder, pulling at you, trying to come back up with you. She cannot scream, you severed her from…The void holds you close, a lover's caress along your spine. This might be hello.
Myself.
Clutching harder, pulling at you, trying to come back up with you. She cannot scream, you severed her from her tongue.
Nothing.
The void holds you close, a lover's caress along your spine. This might be hello.
"I've always suspected I was a fraud. Now I know."
"..."
"Nah. Nobody out-mourns CASCADE."
"..."
Maybe he'll put pants on, too.
Perhaps. Perhaps there are pants penitent enough in this world for one so dedicated -- perhaps he shall transcend to an even greater state of pantslessness.
I think he's just lobotomised...
Tragic, uninspired. This is repentance in its most advanced form!
"You're just pretending to be braindead. I'm onto you."
"..."
He's very committed to this cover. But why, what's his angle?
He wants to look innocent, so I have to take the fall if we fail.
Strategic incompetence -- a tactic favoured among operants, serial killers, and academics. Can you get his cover to break?
"Silence won't save you. If this goes wrong you're going down."
"..."
"Two can play at that game. I'll never speak to you again."
Branch
"Whatever. I don't care. Demoting you to 'asset'."
"..."
A vortex of schemes swirls beneath the silence. Don't you hear it?
Listen.
A susurration of treachery and guile, soft like a breeze through yellow leaves.
"..."
Listen harder.
"..."
Listen harder.
"..."
Listen even harder.
"..."
There! A hissing, an unmistakable snaking of the parts.
Got him!
The sound of a scheme but not its content -- what lurks beneath that slack-jawed impassivity, and can you defeat it?
"I'm going to out-spy you here today."
Alternative wording
"You'll never know my mind! I will spy the shit out of you!"
"..."
"Mark my words. I'm spy Number One."
"..."
If this man gets the drop on you, kill yourself.
Branch
"Stop, damn you!"
"..."
ETERNAL AS THE PROLETARIAT.
"Maybe you should be in charge..."
Alternative wording
"I give up. You should be in charge."
"..."
"What's our next move?"
"..."
His fingers ripple nervously across the handle of his briefcase. He checks his watch.
Follow his lead. (Take off your pants.)
Branch
There is no sound.
He's operating on a lower pitch of reality, down in the shadow-frequencies. Remarkable.
Debris, twirling in deep space. Mute.
I don't hear anything...
No evidence. He's good.
"..."
"As your lead I command you to speak."
"..."
"Fuck you, this is my assignment."
"..."
He's in my head, abusing our psychic link -- so he can swoop in and claim all the credit.
An assignment ambush, planned from the inside. It's what you would do.
"Remember I'm the head spy here. You do whatever weird bidding I bid you."
His fingers twitch.
Throwing gäng signs. Throw one back so he knows you're on the lëvel.
What if it was a bad sign?
Or even signaling to some other gäng? Is he... doublegänged?
"Tell me their names."
"..."
A guilty silence.
"Don't do this. We're so close to glory."
"..."
"You want me to kill myself?"
"..."
He doesn't give a FUCK.
"You are me! Care!"
"..."
"Fuck you. I don't need you to give a shit."
"..."
He's braindead. He has no pants.
Branch
Am I talking to a lobotomy?
Yes.
"..."
Branch
"Fuck this. Let's kill this fucking Lich."
Branch
"Fuck this. Let's wang this fucking Lich."
"I'll come for you. When you least expect it."
"You are one cold motherfucker."
"That's what you want, isn't it? Then the assignment will be yours."
"..."
"Fuck you! Not going to happen!"
"You need me. You don't know what you're doing."
"You want me to wang myself?"
"Fine. Fuck it. Leave. Go with them."
"..."
He shows no signs of movement.
Or anything. He's braindead. He has no pants.
"So, you're with me? Good or bad?"
"..."
CASCADE AND THE INVALID TEN THOUSAND AND ONE YEARS.
"Brother... thank you."
Embrace.
You pull him into a warm hug. He does not respond. His breath is raspy in your ear.
"I said go!"
"..."
He's not going anywhere.
"Do they spy harder than me?"
"..."
They spy so much harder.
"I'll fucking shoot you."
"..."
Stone cold.
"In the stomach. You'll die slow."
"..."
He's braindead, Hershel. No trousers.
Branch
"Speak!"
"..."
Branch
"Yeah, well. I don't care either."
"What, you don't care?"
"And I'll molest your body. Again."
"..."
He wants it.
"You're a sick man, PSEUDO."
"..."
That's why he's drooling. The memory of your caress.
"Puny. Puny penis."
"In fact -- I'll unmolest it."
"..."
Finally. You've found something he fears.
"Melita will hear of this."
"..."
Branch
"She said she's glad you got zeroed." (Lie.)
"..."
Pure heartbreak. Look at his face. Look what you've done.
"I'm sorry. That was too far."
"..."
His heart forever torn, if you were to put your ear to his chest you would hear its tender, arrhythmic sob.
Branch
"You're a shit Operant."
"..."
Woah... That was no way to speak to gäng...
"I should've killed you when she told me to."
"I should've wanged you when she told me to."
Branch
"I'll kill you if you betray me."
"I'll wang you if you betray me."
"Why would you leave me?"
But I don't know any gang signs...
Maybe he was signaling to another gäng? Is he... doublegänged?
"What was that, bitch?"
"..."
He's insulting you.
"I can be more silent than you."
Branch
"You don't believe in me."
"..."
"You are a husk of walking death; my future if I fail. Inspirational and awful."
"..."
How do you know you aren't him right now?
What?
He is you. How do you know you didn't lobotomise yourself and you only think you're you? He probably thinks he's you, too.
"..."
So how do I determine which of us is really me?
Hard to say. You could always kill yourself and see which dies.
Is there a step I can take between nothing and murder?
Every step you've ever taken.
Branch
"Here, friend." (Hold out your gun.)
"..."
Not a single twitch of recognition.
"Come on, take it."
"..."
He's not going to move. He has no mind.
Would he even notice...I could just... (Raise the gun a bit.)
No.
No. Yep. (Put the gun away.)
"..."
"I suppose you want to live."
"..."
Branch
"You lack the sense to die."
"..."
Put the gun away.
Those hands aren't looking like grabbers.
Feet rooted to the ground, hands slack. He's not interested in firearms. Or the afterlife.
"Your brains, comrade. They long for a bullet."
"..."
"Am I a monster? How could I do this to me?"
"..."
You know the answer.
I was driven by self-loathing.
A prosthetic you, to suffer yourself on your behalf. Look at what you've done.
"..."
Leave your fears with him and move on, Operant. You have a murder to commit.
Branch
It was an act of self-love.
You wanted to wear yourself as a fuck glove. Look at what you've done.
"..."
Need better fuck glove.
I just wanted to see what would happen.
Here it is. Look at what you've done.
"..."
A new and strange crime added to your ever-lengthening rap sheet.
"You're right, I'm evil."
"..."
If you're right in your assessment of your own moral virtue, then he too is programmed to be evil -- you have busted the machine's central circuits. This is a good thing.
So am I still evil even if I've done good?
Yes. It only takes one atom of evil to damn the whole body -- even if all the rest are good.
That doesn't seem fair.
It isn't supposed to be fair; it's supposed to break you. A cosmic stress test for the systems, pushing you constantly to rebel.
"..."
Branch
Fuck it then. May as well be awful.
That's exactly what the evil wants you to think, you've succumbed already.
"You can be my human shield. I don't want to be evil and dead."
"..."
"Cool, thanks for agreeing."
"..."
"You can be my human shield. I don't want to be evil and wanged."
"I'll take a bullet for you, if it comes to that."
"..."
"Don't be like that. I couldn't know that this would happen."
"..."
Could have guessed. Quite easily.
"..."
"Maybe you're actually experiencing life at a higher level."
"..."
Unlikely.
Why not? What good did thoughts ever do anybody?
If the thought of thoughtlessness draws you, then it is the call of the void, regression, the creature's strange fascination with annihilation. Waste of time.
Let your mouth hang slack and your eyes drift into the middle distance, like him.
"..."
"You're fucked, aren't you?"
"..."
Branch
Branch
"You're beautiful, really. Far more so than I."
"..."
"I just paid you a compliment."
"..."
Branch
Branch
Branch
"The worst thing is that you can't even kill yourself. A prisoner to life."
"..."
That would be killing you. You know you've thought about it. Do you want to watch?
The cuck chair for my own suicide. Sick.
A meta-textual experience like no other. Make him do it.
That sounds unfathomably horrifying.
Yes. The value as a literary device alone is unquantifiable. Make him do it.
"The worst thing is that you can't even wang yourself. A prisoner to life."
Because I can see him.
And he can see you. And he is you. You can see you seeing you. There's no way to be certain which you you are.
"I knew I could count on you."
"..."
There's nothing in there. You cannot count on 'nothing'.
"Blink if you're mad for Lich blood."
"..."
Is that a frown? He's puzzling it out. Give him a moment.
"I'm a little nervous here."
"..."
"You think you're chiller than me?"
"..."
Glacial.
"Nice to know I'm not the only one."
"..."
THE SILENCE OF TRUE SOLIDARITY.
"We'll get through this. You and me."
"..."
You could marry him for real after this, just think of all the arguments you'd never have.
"So, how'd you like being me?"
"..."
"Yeah, we're killing it."
"..."
Listen to him. Unperterbable, unmovable. True gäng.
"It's not that bad. We've had some good times."
"..."
Your recall the THWACK of foot making contact with his forehead. He looks hurt, lost. His glasses are on wrong.
"Thoughts aren't all they're cracked up to be, you know!"
"..."
Maybe you've got it all wrong and he's too deep in thought. You've seen this expression before on many a model train enthusiast.
"Actually, I'm going to check on Karolina... Later." [Leave.]
"..."
"Actually, I'm going to check on HOLOCENE... Later." [Leave.]
"..."
HOLOCENE shoots you a confused look across the platform.
"Made my mind up, let's hang out." (Proceed.)
"..."
"Cool, well, keep up the good work." [Leave.]
"..."
"..."
His legs gleam in the sunlight, so frighteningly pale that the glare hurts your eyes.
Branch
"I'm ready."
Branch
"CASCADE."
Branch
"Is this supposed to be a disguise?"
"A persona." He looks down at himself, then back to you. "Local pelota player."
"At a Techno-Fascist shrine?"
"A lot of sportspeople harbour extreme political views..."
He looks down at the ground and shifts his feet.
His cleats go CLICK CLACK on the hard ground.
"You look ridiculous."
"I know."
An megaton of silence lands between you. He looks away.
Alternative wording
He pockets the ball and looks away, unable to meet your gaze.
Branch
"Nice. They'll never see that coming."
"Thank you. I thought the same." He furrows his brow. "Of course."
"Here, this will help." (Hand him the pelota ball.)
He reaches out to take the ball, a trembling wonder to his lower lip.
"How did you know to bring this?" He rolls it around in his hand. "Thank you. I... this means a lot to me."
"You smell like moths repellent."
"Yes, I saw a few of them in the store. They flew away. The moths, I mean. Not the mothballs. Obviously."
"You should have asked me for approval before trying a new persona."
"But I am you."
"How do you like the Crew?"
He clears his throat, tapping the ground self-consciously with his studded shoes.
Shoe fangs. Good shoe. You're being out-fucked by this freak already.
Branch
"Well. I spoke to HOLOCENE in the Fogged Mirror. I don't think he likes me."
"How come?"
"He told me that I'm 'conceptually incoherent' and 'an existential threat to operational security due to existing'."
"He also said I was not 'M.I.H.O. material'. Then he wouldn't tell me what M.I.H.O. stood for, so I'm not sure I would feel comfortable applying in any case."
"You're a grotesque simulacrum, nobody will ever like you."
"I didn't think people could tell. Oh."
Branch
"I didn't think people could tell. Oh."A dithering, anxious desperation to be liked. Are you this pathetic?He's going to shoot you in the head and steal your clothes and wear them and say "I'm CASCADE" in a silly…"I see. Right. Shouldn't get attached. In case... anything happens."You could suggest anything, he doesn't care as long as he's invited.
"I wanted to say also... something's been bothering me about KALEIDOSCOPE."
Branch
A red disc passes from one man's hand to another, disappears into a leather briefcase.
Shit, he's remembered.
"He mumbled an apology to me... but I don't know what for. He seems very professional."
Hold up, doesn't have a clue. Carry on.
"Yep . And he didn't kill you, that's for sure."
"You... he... Why would you...? He killed me?"
He blinks, touches his glasses, blinks.
"Why would you... bring him here?"
"Set your petty personal differences aside, it's for the assignment."
"Petty... personal... he killed me. Who did he kill? Who was I? I'll ask him, if we live."
"If we live. I don't even know what it means to live, and it's all I can hope for."
Branch
"Didn't you hear? He has a proven track record of killing losers."
"I'm not a..." he looks down at himself. "I'm not dead."
"You should thank him. You wouldn't exist if not for that."
"But I... wouldn't know that I didn't exist. I wouldn't have to be here."
"I have a good feeling about this. I think the two of you will be pals."
"Really?" Excitement. "He does seem like the kind of person I should be friends with. Mysterious, cool headphones."
So lost that the idea of a connection, no matter with whom, far outweighs the loss itself.
"But... I don't know any topics. For conversations. Other than pelota and textile unions. I've learned a lot about pelota. I hope he likes pelota."
"He likes Ultra Violeta."
"I... don't like that name."
He narrows his eyes, thinking. Shrugs.
"Ah well. I'll speak to him."
"He likes headphones."
"For some reason... I don't like headphones."
"Yep . And he didn't wang you, that's for sure."
"Very. It's him who zeroed you out."
"Wh- what?"
"We can be professional too, we just don't want to."
"Who is 'we'?"
"The Opera. He's EMTERR."
"EMTERR..."
His eyes lose focus and his lips move as he concentrates on deciphering this new information.
"So this is a two-bureau assignment... how will we share credit?"
Alternative wording
"So this is a three-bureau assignment -- the Opera, EMTERR, and M.I.H.O. How will we share credit?"
"M.I.H.O. isn't real."
"I knew that." He sniffs. "I misspoke. Two bureaus."
"How did you discern that he's EMTERR?"
"Espionage."
KALEIDOSCOPE told him.
"We don't get credit; we get more assignments."
"Ah. Of course. Secrecy is... quite fundamental to the job."
Branch
"They'll pin participation ribbons to all our corpses equally."
"Well." He huffs. "That seems unreasonable. Ours should be bigger. A different colour at least."
"This is my assignment. The rest of you are helping."
"I am you." He shoots you a dirty look. "Through no fault of my own."
"You and I."
"But I do want to be professional. This is my only chance."
Yours, too. More and more alike.
"Chance to what?"
"Prove that I'm a good Operant. Establish my own position in the Opera."
"Fuck that, gotta wing it. That's the CASCADE way."
"You don't have the right to define that alone anymore."
Branch
"Hrrm. Maybe we should try doing this one by the book."
"There's a book? First I'm hearing of this. Do you have a copy on you? I haven't the time. And I've learned all this about pelota..."
"He mumbled an apology to me... but I don't know what for. He seems very professional."
"I discerned that he is an EMTERR Operant. Which brings up a major concern, of course."
"How are we to divide credit between two bureaus?"
Alternative wording
"How are we to divide credit between three bureaus -- EMTERR, ourselves, and M.I.H.O.?"
"I wanted to speak with you about Yana. She seems... familiar, somehow."
Does the imprint recognise another, or does he recognise Tempo?
"How?"
"I don't know. The way she speaks -- always seems slightly surprised by whatever comes out of her mouth."
So, creatures made by the imprinting device can see its mark on one another's minds. They know themselves, even if they don't.
"She's an old friend of mine."
"Old friend... but she must be, what, fifteen?"
"That's just her body. Her mind is around fifty-two."
"I see. I... still have so much to learn."
A strange look passes across his face, followed by laughter.
"I shouldn't be surprised. Here I am, not one year old, in the body of a man in his late twenties. Wonder which of us got the better deal."
Branch
"I shouldn't be surprised. Here I am, not one year old, in the body of a man in his late twenties. Wonder…"It is?" eagerly. "Right. I'll get on that as soon as possible. Hopefully I'll find some at the shrine."You've had dirty laundry on your floor for longer than this man has been alive and yet here he is, probably…FALSE CONSCIOUSNESS ON FALSE CONSCIOUSNESS.
"I hang with the kids. It's cool."
"It is?" eagerly. "Right. I'll get on that as soon as possible. Hopefully I'll find some at the shrine."
"Figuratively speaking. It's been a long few days."
"It has. And it hasn't. Maybe I just can't judge any of it; it's all I have."
You've had dirty laundry on your floor for longer than this man has been alive and yet here he is, probably about to die.
"She's an imprint, like you."
"She is? It's... nice not to be alone."
FALSE CONSCIOUSNESS ON FALSE CONSCIOUSNESS.
"Don't worry, he's that way with everyone."
"That's reassuring." He pushes his glasses up his nose. "Perhaps after this I can try again. Good to have friends at other agencies, I'm sure."
A dithering, anxious desperation to be liked. Are you this pathetic?
"Ahem. I spoke to Karolina a lot, in the Fogged Mirror. She's very kind. It's nice that we have friends like her."
"What did the two of you talk about?"
"She told me some pelota stories, anecdotes to help with my persona." He smiles. "She told me I was going to be great."
"Get your own Crew."
"Oh. I thought that's what I was doing."
He's going to shoot you in the head and steal your clothes and wear them and say "I'm CASCADE" in a silly voice.
"She's an asset, not a friend."
"I see. Right. Shouldn't get attached. In case... anything happens."
"We'll all go for shrimp together when this is over."
"That sounds nice. Never been for shrimp before. Bet it's good. Crunchy."
You could suggest anything, he doesn't care as long as he's invited.
"We still have a while until the tram arrives..."
"Yes, could we... chat? I. Haven't been here for very long. It would be nice."
By 'here' he means 'the world'.
Branch
"Let's pass the time together." (Proceed.)
"Thank you."
One of his socks slips a little on his thigh. He hoists it back up.
"I've been wondering... what do you think PSEUDOPOD would be doing if he was here? The real one."
"Don't worry about him. He's gone."
"Is he? I feel like I can see him sometimes. I catch glimpses of my face and it's wearing expressions that I'm not pulling. I can read thoughts that I'm not having."
"Is he in here with me, somewhere? Is he listening? What if he comes back for me?"
Submerged, dissolved. There is nothing to return.
"So you're a little haunted. My problems are way worse than yours."
"Well. That's one way to look at it. And we're both faring far better than PSEUDOPOD."
He paws the ground with his shoes.
"Well. That's one way to look at it. And we're both faring far better than PSEUDOPOD.""You're right, of course. He might get ideas.'You really should have more faith in yourself."I don't know anything to forget.""No, I... not in these socks.""Shrine sluts... wouldn't they be fascists? Is that ethical? I never would've worn these socks had I known…"I never would've worn these socks had I thought of all that."Listen to yourself. Pure erotic cowardice."Right now?" He looks down. "A little. I do a little. But it might be the shorts. How am I supposed to know?…"She'd regret all those times she was mean to me. It would keep her up at night.""She did? You'll have to show me the technique sometime. I don't think I have it quite right.""Oh... yeah. Me too.""But... you brought it up! Fine.""But it would be his something useless. And his death. All I have is... a pelota uniform.""Right. Yeah. Cool to the marrow."
CLICK CLACK.
"After this... Will I go back with you?"
Not just to your apartment. He's asking if he can live your life with you.
Like a stray dog.
Branch
A male version of me... What if the Opera prefer him?
Undoubtedly they will. Look at that narrow pelvis, that prominent brow. The pure exuding maleness of him.
Maybe you've solved a cosmic mistake, you were supposed to be him all along.
Even Melita, will she want him more?
Of course she will. She's a woman. Some may pretend otherwise but ultimately, they all long for cock.
With any luck he'll keep you around as a fuckhole, incubator, or maidservant.
Branch
Shit. I've trained my own replacement.
Should have seen it coming. But you didn't. Because you have a deformed little lady brain.
"You want to come and live with me?"
Branch
"The Opera know what you've done. They may come for us. Strength in numbers, we can band together."
Branch
"The Opera know what you've done. They may come for us. Strength in numbers, we can band together."If he learns to be you, he won't have use for the real you anymore."I will need a 'base' when I'm not out on assignments, yes. Your place should do.""I wouldn't burden you for long... Only until I got the hang of living this life you've forced upon me."
"How else am I to learn who I am than by watching?"
If he learns to be you, he won't have use for the real you anymore.
"I will need a 'base' when I'm not out on assignments, yes. Your place should do."
"I wouldn't burden you for long... Only until I got the hang of living this life you've forced upon me."
"What about finding PSEUDOPOD's house?"
"What if he has a family? A marriage... children."
Branch
No partner and no dependents according to the old spy.
Branch
"They'd know that I wasn't him. They'd band together against and destroy me."
Branch
"They'd know that I wasn't him. They'd band together against and destroy me.""I wouldn't recognise them, and they'd want me to love them. They shouldn't be burdened with any of this. If…"I can't let myself be dragged down by another man's baggage.""They wouldn't be able to love me like they loved him, I just know it. Nobody loves me."
"I wouldn't recognise them, and they'd want me to love them. They shouldn't be burdened with any of this. If they exist."
"I can't let myself be dragged down by another man's baggage."
"They wouldn't be able to love me like they loved him, I just know it. Nobody loves me."
He has only a mother. Who will very soon be receiving an unstamped postcard, announcing that her only son has been sent on an overseas assignment and may be gone for a very long time.
"I'm not sure the Opera will pay one person two salaries..." (Proceed.)
"But we're not one person. Or they can give me PSEUDOPOD's salary; he doesn't need it."
"Two operants are definitely better than one. We'll prove it together today. They need us."
Mathematically uncertain -- operants are capable of possessing a negative value.
Branch
"You'll stay with me, but as my talisman -- all my sins I shed onto you."
"What do you mean?"
"I failed before and if I fail again, it's you who's getting the blame."
"Is that why you brought me?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that.
"Yes, sometimes I can't believe the things that come out of my mouth."
Branch
"Our masters demand a sacrifice... perhaps I'll be able to strike first if I'm close enough."
They'll burn him in the same fire that you've been fueling with the document shredder for the past five years.
"Ready, CASCADE?"
They'll burn him in the same fire that you've been fueling with the document shredder for the past five years.Because he is one of them.Curious. He's dressed as a pitcher.Created to be destroyed, like a grass dog -- named and decorated and burned on the pyre.You could take one You. Probably not two Yous. Three Yous, absolutely going to struggle.Three plus... at those numbers, all minds turn towards the Doppelgängbäng.Confidently superlative. In this case it seems fair.He can be the shield when we get in formation.Philosophically disturbing... but mathematically solid.You won't.They can carve it onto your shared headstone.He smiles with his eyes alone. You recognise yourself in the expression.
He holds out his hand, a look of determination settling across his face.
Shake his hand.
He closes his fingers around your palm, holding rather than shaking.
Soft.
"Let's kill a Lich."
"Kill the fuck out of him." He nods at you.
The tram lines creak and crackle above you as the carriage lumbers into view, stained with mist.
"Kill the fuck out of him." He nods at you."It's... I... friendly! It's intended to be friendly! Ahem. Damn it, CASCADE. Let's kill this damned Lich."Disturbed by our own affection. Fucking grim."Ahem. Yes. It's time." He flashes you a quick smile, then turns his attention to the arriving tram."Of course. Lead on."
"The tram's here. We should... split up."
"Let's wang a Lich."
"Gay little caress you've got there."
"It's... I... friendly! It's intended to be friendly! Ahem. Damn it, CASCADE. Let's kill this damned Lich."
Ignore the hand, hug him.
He hesitates, then puts his arms around you.
"This is nice."
"Yes. Right. I think we should... go."
You feel him squirming slightly in your arms.
He's just getting comfortable. In for the deep squeeze.
"I don't want to."
"Okay. But the tram, maybe, coming?"
"A little more."
"I'd like to go now."
"Shh. More."
"Eughg."
He wiggles out of your grip like an insect shedding its skin.
"My bad. I got scared."
Disturbed by our own affection. Fucking grim.
"Alright, it's time." (Let go.)
"Ahem. Yes. It's time." He flashes you a quick smile, then turns his attention to the arriving tram.
"Let's go."
He lets out a choked sigh before dropping his hand to his side.
"Of course. Lead on."
"You want to make guilt the price of my life? Fine. But you know as well as I do that I cannot atone for your sins."
Because he is one of them.
"You're weak to ask me that. Luckily for you, I'm not. I can take anything you've done, anything you throw at me."
Curious. He's dressed as a pitcher.
"I'm already so full of shame, I won't even notice the burden of more. Maybe this really is my purpose."
Created to be destroyed, like a grass dog -- named and decorated and burned on the pyre.
"It's the best use I have for you, currently."
PSEUDOPOD stares at you for a long time.
Behind his glasses, his eyes glisten.
"You are the sick me. I am clean."
"I fucked up. You're going to be my fuck up receptacle."
"No way. There's only one CASCADE."
Branch
"You know that isn't true; you're looking at another right now. And how can you know that we are the only ones? We need to stick together."
You could take one You. Probably not two Yous. Three Yous, absolutely going to struggle.
Three plus... at those numbers, all minds turn towards the Doppelgängbäng.
"Your inability to accept the reality of your creation doesn't make it any less real. I am either your best decision or worst mistake."
Confidently superlative. In this case it seems fair.
"Not anymore. Let's fuck this Lich up -- together."
He can be the shield when we get in formation.
"The world might have been a better place with none, but now there are two."
Philosophically disturbing... but mathematically solid.
"You're me, you're my responsibility. Of course we'll stay together."
Branch
"By our powers combined, we may finally uncover and even overthrow whatever council truly governs the arcane field of global espionage."
You won't.
"Problem and solution both. We make a tidy riddle."
They can carve it onto your shared headstone.
"Fight together."
He smiles with his eyes alone. You recognise yourself in the expression.
His words make you nauseous for some reason.
"Interesting -- like a permanent double." (Proceed.)
"Yeah." His eyes widen. "You and me. Or, you and you. We'll be the perfect team."
He'll dye his hair golden and knife you in your sleep.
"Better not let him hear you being a wimp."
"You're right, of course. He might get ideas.'
"You're me. He has no chance against me."
"Yeah..."
You really should have more faith in yourself.
"He's dead. Zeroed out day one. Forget him."
"I don't know anything to forget."
"He's wanged. Zeroed out day one. Forget him."
"He'd probably leave to call a sex line."
"He was into sex lines? Are we into sex lines?" His nose wrinkles. "Is this the body of a pervert?"
"Don't think so. You look like a virgin."
"A virgin can be a pervert. Isn't a virgin more likely to be a pervert? Wait..."
He freezes, even his thigh hair seems to stand still in horror.
"I am a virgin. Even if PSEUDOPOD wasn't. What if we die? I'll be a dead virgin."
"We could do it. Right here, right now."
"No, I... not in these socks."
"You never know. Might be some shrine sluts around."
"Shrine sluts... wouldn't they be fascists? Is that ethical? I never would've worn these socks had I known about shrine sluts."
"A dead virgin pervert."
"I never would've worn these socks had I thought of all that."
"Phone sex is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Phone sex. Phone sex." He rolls it around on his tongue, testing the concept. "Yeah... I feel like phone sex would be better than real sex. You can just leave. And they can't see you. Perfect."
Listen to yourself. Pure erotic cowardice.
"Do you feel like a pervert?"
"Right now?" He looks down. "A little. I do a little. But it might be the shorts. How am I supposed to know? I barely know what anything feels like."
"Not sure. But it's definitely the mind of one."
"Oh... I didn't think we were going to talk about that."
Shit. About what?
"So... the phone cord asphyxiation thing is just us, right? That's not a... normal thing."
"It's not sexual. I just want Melita to hear me die. Then she'd be sorry."
"She'd regret all those times she was mean to me. It would keep her up at night."
"It's completely fine. Everybody does it. My grandma taught me."
"She did? You'll have to show me the technique sometime. I don't think I have it quite right."
"Just a you thing, I like my mind sharp and my vision unspotted."
"Oh... yeah. Me too."
"Please never mention that or anything like it ever again."
"But... you brought it up! Fine."
"Probably something useless that would get him killed. Again."
"But it would be his something useless. And his death. All I have is... a pelota uniform."
"Probably something useless that would get him wanged. Again."
"No idea, never met the guy."
"Right. Yeah. Cool to the marrow."
"Actually, maybe I should check in on Karolina..." (Go back.)
"She's fine. But alright. Go and see for yourself."
Branch
"Actually, maybe HOLOCENE and I should talk operational stuff..." (Go back.)
"I'm an operant too." He glances over to HOLOCENE. "I'm still an operant."
Branch
"Made my mind up, let's hang out." (Proceed.)
"Right. That would be preferable."
"Keep up the good work." [Leave.]
"Yeah."
"CASCADE. Good morning."
Woven sweater, triple bands around the wrists and neck. Thigh high socks. He's wearing a pelota kit.
Mothball smell. Many seasons old.