"Loneliest... of towns..."

"Loneliest... of towns..."

His half-hooded eyes struggle to locate yours.

Somehow, he looks more forgotten than when you first found him.

"Oskar, I feel really bad about kicking you. Here's a proper apology." (Hand him your card.)

"Oh... for me?"

He takes the card delicately from you and opens it slowly, barely touching its edges.

Not wanting to stain it with his soiled fingers.

It takes him a long time to read the short message inside.

"This is... lovely. Thank you. I will keep this." He tucks it delicately between the folds of his coat.

"You're welcome."

"I've never received an apology card before... one of life's little rarities."

"Exquisite grammage, also... tactile wonder... makes the heart sing..."

Grammage essential. In paper and potential mate.

"Of course. What use is a card with poor grammage?"

"None at all, many would say."

"Far beside the point." His hand grips your wrist. "Thank you."

"Grammage isn't real."

"Neither is money. And yet... we exalt..."

"Shame about le grammage though..."

Grammage essential. In paper and potential mate.

"I tried, man."

"Haven't we all..."

"I'm being audacious." His hand grips your wrist. "Thank you."

"That's completely made up."

"Urban legend in the Superbloc, I'm sure..."

"One less apology you need from this world."

"One less, yes. I suspect the rest will not send cards."

"I still consider you an ideological nemesis."

"Many do... I will live with it." He smiles.

"I need someone to absolve some debt."

"A forgiver... We are around..." He waves a hand mysteriously. "We linger. Who's debt needs abracadabra-ing?"

"A young man named Kurt who has fallen victim to your predatory schemes."

"The Bank is not 'predatory'... it is simply a balance sheet that must add up. I wouldn't call a piece of paper predatory."

"Did your friend avail of the 'Financial Citizen'? Our program for the disadvantaged... Allows them to increase purchasing power... I'm a big proponent."

"How will you make your money if they're unable to pay you back?"

"Fair child... there is no such thing as money. It is a mere promissory note." He thrusts out two fingers. "There is only debt... and credit."

CLASSIC LIBERAL DENY AND DEFLECT. OUR PROMISSORY NOTE READS: 'TOTAL REVOLUTION'.

"Better do it, or I'll kick you."

Alternative wording

"Better do it, or I'll kick you again."

"Keen to avoid more unearned suffering..." He closes his eyes. "Alright. I will absolve. But I require holy water for the Rite of Forgiveness."

The Liquidity Mage needs liquid.

"'The rite of forgiveness'?"

"That is the official term, isn't it? The forgiveness of debt... in return for a confession of sin against Capital."

"You just want to get drunk on my expense."

"We all live... at the expense of someone."

A promissory note the length of recorded time -- signed by every soul on the universal registry.

"Where can I find this 'water'?"

"In well-stocked markets and machines. The name... Wiśnia Schnapps... 'On Tour'. The 'On Tour' part is very important."

"Return with it... and we can begin the rite."

"'Holy water'?"

"Yes. The holiest."

"Oskar, can you just help me out, please?"

"Why not. Seems I have..." A slow glance around. "... very little on. But I require holy water for the Rite of Forgiveness..."

"His name is Kurt, and he signed up for something called the 'Financial Citizen'."

"Yes, our program for the disadvantaged to accentuate their purchasing power. Fantastic stuff, very fair rates."

"Kurt, a local moron."

"We are all a moron local to somebody."

"I've got the 'On Tour'. Let's ritual."

"Very good... let us commence."

He takes the 'On Tour' from you with both hands and drinks it with surprising care.

Hands suddenly steady.

"I hereby... forgive thee and thee associates... May the cold breath of capital recede from your neck... and your balance sheets turn a purified white..."

Nonsense words he's making up on the spot.

"That was it?"

"That was it. I have taken the debt and made it my own. Fortunately for your friend, I am awash with liquidity... the stain barely registers."

The Opera is losing the shadow contest... to this?

"The dark magic of personal finance works in mysterious ways... but it works. And the world applauds every time."

APPLAUDS AT GUNPOINT.

"How will your sect survive this illicit ritual?"

"... Too big to fail."

"Though this forgiver is not opposed to more holy liquid... preventative maintenance..."

"Are you sure the debt's gone?"

"Certainement. Debt is not real. Imagine the computing systems suddenly implode... bang bang bang... It all disappears, dread zero... We're back to roughing up defaulters on the streets, shaking change out of pockets."

"Who's counting, really? Everybody... and nobody."

"I didn't know liberalism could work wonders such as this."

"Liberalism... can do anything. If you only just believe..." He spreads his arms.

He believes.

"Thanks, Oskar. I hope this weird spell works." (Conclude.)

"It has already taken effect." His face grows serious. "He who was once lame... can now walk."

Intriguing... The enemy reveals its Advanced Cognitive Manoeuvres. This black art was previously unknown to the Operant Bureau.

"You're making this up."

"How dare you... sacred... and profane..."

"It's a real privilege to see behind the curtain, Oskar."

"Abra Dacabra."

The veil... is lifted!

"I need your help -- I'm looking for the Head of Human Capital."

Alternative wording

"Frederik said you could help me find the Head of Human Capital."

"The Head of... Yes. I know her. Of course I know her. I spoke at her wedding."

Human for human.

"Marriage. The ultimate transaction."

"Actually, it was quite beautiful... the real deal, if you'd believe it... A rarity..."

"Where can I find her?"

"Why?" His eyes narrow. "Do you have some capital you're keen to acquire?"

'ACQUIRE': A COMMON EUPHEMISM FOR REACTIONARY GRATIFICATION DISORDER.

"There exists ill-gotten capital I'm keen to redistribute, yes."

"Socialism's had its day... frightened all the girls away..." His hand sways in loose rhythm.

"Whatever the intended exchange, Eszti is your woman."

The past descends with talons.

A phone line from five years ago connects:

"Hershel. It's Eszti. I'm going to talk fast. Something is dreadfully wrong."

Your old asset, ESTOC. Still draped in the same cover you left her in, with one new styling.

"Eszti... Newitz?"

"Newitz, yes. She kept the maiden name, of course, very 'her'. A formidable woman mentally..." His eyes drift. "Scarily good at cards... But not graced with physical heft."

Five years ago, she was undercover with the Bank. Now it seems that her mask has become her face.

"Did you two work together?"

"No, no... different departments... kindred spirits."

"And remind me how you know Eszti? Don't recall meeting you at the wedding..."

A flash of lucidity as he takes you in.

"I owe her an apology, actually."

Alternative wording

"I owe her at least three apologies, actually."

"Now that sort of stuff..." He points at you. "... Is extremely valuable human capital."

"Where does she live these days?"

"In the Housing Campaign... somewhere north-ish of here... novelty-sized apartment... don't recall the number. They had the reception there. Everyone gathered in the living room, furniture askew... Flowers... Strings of light..."

"Between us..." He leans in. "I thought it was a bit of a dive at first, you know, a woman of her professional standing. But it charmed me..."

"Sure you can't remember her apartment number?"

"Oh yes, quite sure. A siege of working class doors."

"Thanks, Oskar."

"Give Eszti my best... a wedding for the aeons... realest of deals... if only..."

"I was never here, by the way."

"Who said that?" He flicks his head side-to-side then gives you a conspiratorial grin.

"She's moved a long way up in the world since I knew her. Extremely suspicious."

"A schemey sort of girl, Eszti, no doubt. But radiant in her own humble way..."

"She used to work for me. Couldn't keep up."

"The burden of command..." He shakes his head sadly.

"I'm not sure the Eszti I knew even exists any more."

"I understand... you are two forgotten hand prints on the stair rail of time..."

"That's a big promotion for her."

"Hefty promotion, yes. Well-deserved, considering her performance."

But at what cost? To become the high arbiter of Human Capital, you no doubt have to trade in some of your own.

"She's not that formidable."

"Then I suspect you haven't adequately crossed her."

"I want a seat at the Big Liquidity table."

"Careful with your coveting... They install trapdoors under those seats... straight to the oubliette."

"Just exploring market conditions."

"Yes, oh yes." He licks a finger and raises it dramatically. "I declare... favourable. Strike now."

"Yes, actually. An old Luzian man you're currently detaining."

"Ah, one of your pals get whisked away to the secret jail? It happens... they'll give him a roughing up for being a bold boy, but it's not like they'll kill him."

Hard to tell if he's downplaying the labour trafficking, or just unaware of it.

Hard to tell if he's downplaying the imprisoning operation, or just unaware of its scope.

"This is more of a professional call."

"Ah, you're in the field yourself? Fascinating sphere... Brutal, essential."

"Have you ever been married, Oskar?"

"Yes, I was... a hundred thousand moons ago. The first blade held against my heart. Anya..."

He hasn't said her name in a very long time.

"I sent her on holiday once, all expenses... while she was gone I ran afoul of a vengeful stock investment... couldn't muster the capital to bring her back."

"I have some alcohol. Can you tell me about Frederik and this train, please?"

"Devious... but not unattractive..." One eye squints up at you.

"Sometimes good things come in small bottles." (Give him the Wiśnia Schnapps 'On-Tour'.)

"Yes, I think I'll take it. We've made a deal, strange woman, a deal sealed and done!"

He throws the alcohol back down his throat, eyes open wide, staring at the sky.

Alternative wording

He throws the alcohol back down his throat, eyes open wide, staring at the rain.

Alternative wording

He throws the alcohol back down his throat, eyes open wide, staring at the stars.

"Metamoto is back at the table." He thuds the ground with a fist.

"Oskar. The train."

"So... Yes. The little reunion we had at Reno's... the one that's rendered me gravel-bound... Fred was also in attendance."

"Three capitalists walk into a pied-à-terre... Ominous start."

"There were a handful more high rankers present too... Reno-ites, movers and makers, political actors... and Metamoto and his jeune."

"The prized train was in circulation, being shown off to a trusted few. A moment's distraction, a stray placement... Fred saunters in from the kitchen, wreathed in smiles, fails to scan the landing zone..."

"... Sits right on it." He claps his hands together.

"The crack... splintered plastic... a gunshot through the soul. Freddie knew instantly what he'd done. I also knew, but for the boy's sake... pretended not to notice."

"Freddie sits on the train. What then?"

"The jeune stayed seated on the wreckage for almost two hours, until things got... illucid enough for him to make his play..."

A tremendous feat of endurance.

Any slight movement would've spelled agony.

"He seized a moment of distraction, then, limping slightly, off he snuck to stash the body..."

... In the hot tub. You have half of the crime in your pocket right now.

"Does he do this kind of thing a lot?"

"I, personally, have never before seen him disintegrate a model train... but... it's not the first time he's struck an own goal at a social gathering."

The thinking man's masturbation.

"I suspect he gets off on it."

"Sound reasoning." He stares into the distance a moment. "And if he does... what harm."

"I usually just find the nearest bathroom and panic attack hard in it."

"I used to just... drink my way through them. As you can probably tell." A smile, for show.

He cannot quite meet your eye.

"Isn't that... pretty bad for a negotiator?"

"Fred has killer instinct... robust at the table... but socially the dial reads... dread zero!"

"I hope Reno didn't see."

"He did not. Fortuitous! Fred would have been banished from the tower immediately."

"But he will notice, if he hasn't already."

Bad news. He has.

"He's aware, but he thinks the cleaners misplaced it."

"Freddie's dawn reprieve! How long will it last?"

"He's a multi-millionaire, is he really going to notice a tiny little train's missing?"

"He will notice. Reno cares about two things above all others -- his cat... and his train. And also... his businesses. Above all others!"

"What's so great about this train, anyway?"

"It carries your heart away... the sheer craftsmanship of the model... exquisite, if mysterious..."

"Capitalists can't get enough of their toys."

"Not a toy." He wags a large finger. "A model. A grown-up toy, maybe. But for looking only."

This little locomotive sounds inherently leverageable. On both sides of the fulcrum.

"Maybe this model train incident is affecting Frederik professionally."

Alternative wording

"Will this model train derail your secret treaties?"

"That will be one of a thousand pressures assailing the boy... but it will be a significant one."

"Bigger occasions have fallen through for less..." He shrugs. "You hate to see it in the professional game."

"As his lead, his actions are your responsibility."

"... Mine... ?"

"Yes, yours."

"... Mine."

"So in a way it's like you sat on it."

"Maybe Frederik is trying to sabotage this intentionally. Maybe he's defected."

"To what? The fascists? The communists?" He hacks a laugh. "Freddie loves his comforts. He is a creature of them. He bleeds liberalism. No defection there, I guarantee that."

PROGNOSIS: TERMINAL. TREATMENT: LIQUIDATE. THEN REDISTRIBUTE LIQUIDITY.

"I'm intimately familiar with subordinates disappointing me."

"Quisach's a lonely town... when you're the only EMTERR boy... around..."

"It's all one big game -- and there's nothing 'professional' about it."

"You've been playing at the wrong tables." A flash of pointed canine. "The Bank's very above board."

"Where did he stash the pieces?" (Conclude.)

"I didn't see where he put the main part... scampered off to a dark corner of the pied-à-terre to conduct his beastly business..."

"But the other part... is in the reliable hands of Metamoto." He grins and taps his inside pocket.

A small mound inside, about three inches across. Vaguely circlular.

SEIZE THE MEANS OF LOCOMOTION.

"Why do you have it?"

"I was trying to get the jeune out of a jam, of course. Plausible deniability... major asset at the table..."

He was holding on to it for leverage.

He took it because it meant something to him.

Trains are everything. The coolest thing created in living memory, the rest of humankind's inventors might as well down tools now.

"Come on, Oskar. Why did you actually take it?"

He gazes at you, head dipping forward like a fading pulse.

Suddenly sentimental -- the emotional quick change of a ravaged alcoholic.

"Because it makes me think of her... What other reason is there?"

"Let me guess... Lolita Calista."

"It is, of course... my friend the ambassador's wife... Lolita Calista."

This woman, whoever she is, clearly means the world to him. Probably part of the reason you've found him how you've found him.

Here's another tool to open him up with.

"Who's 'her'?"

"My friend the ambassador's wife... Lolita Calista. The last gasp of my heart... gigantress in waiting..."

"Let me take it off your hands, I'll sort this out."

"No. I'd like to hold on to it... a while..."

Suddenly sentimental -- the emotional quick change of a ravaged alcoholic.

"I may be forced to kick you again."

"Do your worst. Give me something to feel... It doesn't matter..."

"This train makes me think of her... and I like that."

"How about another drink?"

"No, no... this is beyond all that agony... different flavour."

"Nothing about your hands screams reliable."

"You haven't seen them in action." He flickers his fingers across his face. "There's a reason why they are so often entrusted with... the fate of the Developed World."

"I took the train for Frederik's sake. Plausible deniability pour le jeune... major asset at the table..."

"Cold, Oskar, stealing Reno's child surrogate. Thought you were his friend."

"I am, of course. One of his oldest and most financially lucrative. Double hitter."

"I found half of the train." (Conclude.)

"Where did you find it?"

"In the hot tub. Sea burial."

"Aha! Crafty play by the jeune!" He comes to life suddenly. "Of course Reno wouldn't be in hot tub mode with everything that's going on!"

"Maybe we can... compare pieces." He grins and taps his jacket pocket. "The other part... is in the reliable hands of Metamoto."

"And...?"

"Some top-quality Luzian liquor." (Hand over the Shard Mescal.)

"The local mid-tier stuff." (Offer the Wiśnia Brand Schnapps.)

"A decent bottle of beer." (Slip him an OXEN Bock.)

"It's weak but it'll work." (Drop him the Perro Pale.)

"Actually, I changed my mind. You've had enough." (Go back.)

"Temptress infernal..."

"This could be important to Frederik's current issues. Don't you want to help him out?"

"Freddie has made his beddie. Let him writhe in it."

"Oskar, you should be looking out for your direct reports."

"In theory, yes... that's what the manual says, you are correct..."

This from Hershel Wilk, her of six abandoned direct reports.

The senior negotiator grows serious and raises a slow finger.

"There are three ironcast rules to economics... a), people respond to incentives. a), incentives alter behaviour." The finger stays aloft, but his gaze drifts.

That's it. Lecture over.

"And... b)?"

"Be...? Be... incentivising."

"Got it, makes sense."

"The deplorable science... terrifying yet always logical."

"That makes zero sense."

"Oh, I assure you, he's writhing."

"I would expect nothing less."