"Back again, Hershel."

"Back again, Hershel."

The cat luxuriates in its own magnificence.

"Let's speak about this cat here."

"She's beautiful, isn't she. Pure-bred, probably. They have papers when they're this beautiful."

The cat is staggeringly unperturbed.

'Fear', 'lack', and even 'discomfort' are concepts utterly foreign to this animal.

"Whose cat is this?"

"The cat is its own animal, free from the burden of society and property rights."

Show prey you are predator.

Flash your teeth at him.

"Please, Hershel, do not try to act feral, it does not suit you. You and I both know that we are well-trained professionals, paid to keep up a certain standard of appearance."

His standard of appearance suggests 'gambler on an eternal losing streak'.

Evidence of this 'training' is yet to manifest.

"But property rights are the foundation of a thriving society."

"Hershel, the cat doesn't need property rights like you and I do. It is beyond such realities. Its power is symbolic. That means that it's important just because it exists." He closes his eyes and raises a finger.

"Though economic realities are important, an open mind is even more important. I am not saying this to disrespect you, Hershel, I'm just reminding you as a friend to always be curious."

And what was it that killed the cat...?

He's really broken the intellectual 'bank' with that one.

"Only a mega-advanced civilisation is capable of producing and supporting such a cat."

"Absolutely. With a cat like this, you know things are going OK. You can sleep at night without watching the news."

The cat's expression is magisterially indifferent to the mention of 'civilisation'.

"But without society, what will we rally around?"

"The cat has nothing to do with post-historical materialism, Hershel, but I can understand why you would think that way."

EVERYTHING HAS TO DO WITH POST-HISTORICAL MATERIALISM. EVEN THE WHISKERED SHIRKER.

"Cool." (Go back.)

"Sure."

"There's no reason to assume this is Mr. Reno's cat."

"You make it sound like it is."

"Hershel, envy does not suit a person of your capabilities. The reality is, that I have this cat, whilst you have exactly zero cats."

"But who does it belong to?"

"Right, that satisfies me." (Go back.)

"Sure, Hershel."

"I never thought I'd get to meet such a cat in real life."

The cat's lazy gaze settles on you for a moment, then turns downward to the floor. How it came to meet you is a question of no concern.

To the extent that our lives matter even one iota, it is only under the gaze of this cat. The moment it closes its eyes, we may as well cease to be.

"People like you and me, we're not supposed to meet a cat like this. We can't really handle it, in a way."

"It's just an animal."

"Just an animal? Hershel, this cat is magnificent. Look at it. Look at the fur, the colour, the tail. It's beautiful."

The cat seems used to such praise, paying no attention to either of you.

"You're lucky this cat doesn't speak or understand human. Otherwise it would be very displeased."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know yet, but whatever it is, I know it will be okay, because this cat will be there."

Things can never be wrong with the cat, because the cat is itself inescapably right.

The soft, airy fur seems to defy gravity.

"Can I pet the cat?"

"Listen, it's a big thing, petting a high-grade cat like this. There's no telling how it'll react..."

Alternative wording

"Listen, it's a big thing, petting a civilisation-affirming cat like this. There's no telling how it'll react..."

The cat stands most similar to a great cumulus cloud humming with dormant electricity.

"But then, if you need to do it, of course, who am I to stop you from petting a cat."

Pet the cat.

The joints of your fingers dissolve in the voluminous white.

Let your fingers rest, just for a moment.

Alternative wording

Let your fingers rest again.

The vibrations emanating from within the cat echo through the pads of your fingers, up your arm and down your spinal cord before dispersing throughout the rivers and tributaries of your nervous system.

Your bodies hum in unison. You have achieved cat-human synthesis.

Close your eyes.

No harm can come to you here.

Take a deep breath.

There is nothing you need that you don't possess.

Empty your mind.

Take only what is good, leave the rest behind.

"Who's a good kitty?"

The cat glances over its shoulder, lazily.

(Whisper.) "Thank you for this."

This moment does not call for words.

Remove your hand.

The cat's eyes drift up to meet yours.

There's something you should be doing, but you're not.

It finds you wanting, but how?

Give it a little scritch.

The cat purrs softly.

Remove your hand.

"I guess you did need that."

"Alright, you got to pet the cat. Now the petting is over."

Your fingers hesitate just above the cat's surface. Is this really what you should be doing?

This cat is the apötheosis of cats, the teleological endpoint of a hundred millennia of cat-development. We cannot simply 'pet' it.

Just... few more... centimetres...

A burst of strong static causes your hand to recoil.

The cat shifts its weight ever so slightly, as seemingly unaware of the tremendous power it just discharged.

As though to suggest: There's a lot more where that came from.

Blow on your fingertips.

"I told you, Hershel. It's not as easy as it looks."

Flap your wrist.

No, I'm not worthy. (Retract your hand.)

Nothing about the cat's gaze changes in the slightest, and yet it certainly hears your thoughts and agrees.

"No, it wouldn't be right."

"Probably for the best, Hershel, honestly."

"That's enough about the cat, actually."

"I know, I know, we need to restrain ourselves or it'll be all we discuss."

"Let's speak some more about the cat."

"What could I have against it, Hershel?"

"Why would I work with you? I have no idea who you are."

"You're thinking very short-term, Hershel. I'm disappointed. Seriously."

"In my new position, I've developed a number of very highly placed sources."

Big, if true.

"Very interesting, tell me more about them."

"Very sneaky, but I'm in no position to share that information at this time."

"Why would I help you do the Luzians' work for them?"

"What does EMTERR gain by leaking the contents of their own secret negotiations?"

"The carabineros act as EMTERR's security detail for the upcoming talks and just like their masters, are notorious for their unreliability and corruption."

"I suspect the carabinero rat is readying itself to jeopardise the discussions. If you accept the job, I'll tell you all about them."

"Why not do it yourself? Sounds like a job for a 'de facto' lead."

"Hershel, you of all people should know that power differentials matter -- my new employers have trusted me with this site here, which is of much greater importance."

The wall of glass behind him is quite something.

"I don't have a camera."

"Seriously? Does the Opera expect you to subsist on charity? Things must be even worse under post-historical materialism than they say."

POST-HISTORICAL MATERIALISM NEEDS NO PHOTOS OF IT -- EVERYONE CAN SEE FOR THEMSELVES HOW GREAT IT IS.

"Fortunately for you, I will be supplying the camera on this assignment."

"Is this for real, Ignatz?" (Proceed.)

"This is a one-time opportunity. I need you committed before this place is cleaned up. I'd hate for you to miss out on a chance for us to collaborate again."

"I have ascertained the filthy carabinero, and I have also ascertained his controller. All you need to do is get them on film together."

"Remind me what I get out of this arrangement again?"

"If you prove yourself a capable sub-lead, I'm sure we could come to some mutually beneficial and totally unofficial agreement."

SUB-LEAD? UTTERLY UNACCEPTABLE.

"Everyone comes out ahead, except the leaky animals. I get rid of a problem, and you'll receive some information that will make your life -- and the Opera's -- much more interesting."

"Let's get this straight: I'm lead here."

"Maybe back home you are. But the Opera's stuck in their old ways. You need the skilled, gentle and contemporary hand of Ignatz to guide you."

"Alright, I'll do it." [Accept task.]

"Very good, Hershel." His eyes light up.

"The animal you're looking for always wears half his uniform, even off-hours. You'll know him by his corrupt, sleazy demeanour, his dead eyes, and dark floppy hair."

"Anything else you can tell me about this carabinero?"

"Truly, an unappealing individual. In a proper society, he'd be euthanised or at least kept indoors."

"What about his controller?"

"A local woman about your age with a mole on her cheek. It took all my skills and training to ascertain their true identity."

"Where do I find them?" (Proceed.)

"They meet every day on the bridge that's east of the Bazaar roundabout -- a great place for some filthy fucking animals to do their leaky business, apparently."

"You'll need to use this camera. It's a very special piece of technology, but the film inside of it is even more special. Make sure you use it." He hands you the machine.

Danger.

How about a self-portrait, or a still shot of a beautiful landscape?

Don't point it at yourself.

"What's so special about this camera?

"My new employers have different ideas about privacy and conscience than you or I, but I can't judge. Another man's house, another man's rules..."

"They're trying to build a post-historical Final Society, with a Final Man as its subject, so naturally they can't have old-style thoughts going around. That's how I understand it, at least."

A... psychographic camera?

"Way ahead of you, Ignatz. I'm an expert in techno-fascist metaphysics."

"It's not like here or in the Superbloc, Hershel. My new employers do not fuck around. They have cameras everywhere, taking photographs with this exact film."

A machine to picture the inner workings of the soul, a miracle of light, glass, and chemicals to preserve that which is has so rarely been known...

"Are you saying the Luzians can photograph people's thoughts?"

"I'm not saying they can, I'm saying they are."

"What does this have to do with the leaky carabinero?"

"Hershel, really. Poverty of imagination is a very concerning quality in a sub-lead..."

"Thoughts, Hershel. It takes pictures of thoughts."

"What does that mean, Ignatz?"

"Does this have anything to do with the 'poor woman' the photo lady mentioned?"

"Please, Hershel. The 'poor woman' does not exist. It's a mere fabrication by the lonely, deprived mind of a small business owner."

"Should I bring the photos back here?"

"No, no. A de facto counter intelligence lead cannot risk being seen in the same place twice, our enemies are very attuned to patterns and so forth..."

"Once you've got the photos developed, meet me on the rooftops of the Housing Campaign, any night."

A secret meeting within a labyrinth of aerials, sending and receiving...

"Housing Campaign. Roofs. Night. Got it." (Conclude.)

"Remember! Just one quality photograph of the carabinero leaking in the wild will do. Make sure you get the woman too, his controller."

"And try not to call attention to yourself. These are highly dangerous individuals. I'm sure I don't need to explain." He gestures with his right hand.

"I want nothing to do with whatever you're up to." [Decline.]

"This is very disappointing, Hershel. I do not like to hear it."

"I'll only keep my heart open to a change of yours until this place is cleaned up. If you don't come back before then... I'll know where we stand."

"I don't believe these sources exist. At all."

"It's okay to admit that my star is rising just as yours has fallen, Hershel. This is just the way of things."

"You've been following me since I got here. How can I trust your motivations?"

"I must say that they are pure and full of heart, much like this cat." He gestures toward the elegant beast at his feet.

It is impossible to tell how much heart is in the cat.

"What are you doing here exactly?"

"Your old friend Ignatz has been moving up in the world. I'm on a very complex and sensitive assignment on behalf of my new employer." He gives you a smirk.

"Secret Treaties will be discussed in a matter of days, in this very apartment. Your old asset Ignatz is here, preparing the field, so to speak."

"These 'secret treaties' are a lot less secret than you might expect."

"Fucking leaks, Hershel. Unbelievable. Who was it?"

"An EMTERR negotiator. Low level."

"That guy's a dead man. Just wait. Anyway, I appreciate you telling me that. You're a true friend."

"And just give up my asset? No chance, man."

"You can't blame me for trying, Hershel. I'm a go-getter. You know this."

"It was a man of mystery..."

"So the leak is male! Even an innocuous statement can be a clue, Hershel -- you should know that. This is sloppy talk, I expected better."

He seems exhilarated to have caught something as obvious.

"Your 'new employer' being the Weeping Eye, of course." (Proceed.)

"Nice try. You know I can't tell you that. Don't worry, it is not the Bank. A man's got to know who he is and who he isn't, otherwise who is he?"

"Quit fucking around, I know you're with the techno-fascists now."

"Please, Hershel, that's a very offensive term to use. Some of them are very honourable people, servants of the State, like you."

"Totally different States."

"Maybe, maybe. There are many states of mind, after all. But only one state of being." He winks at you.

"In any event, it's a very unusual arrangement, I'm basically de facto lead on this assignment."

"'De facto' is loser for 'fake', just so you know."

"It's very offensive to imply what you're implying, Hershel. My position is perfectly legitimate."

'Legitimate'.

"Currently I'm overseeing these sanitation technicians. It may seem pedestrian, but in reality, the responsibility could only be handled by someone at the level of de facto lead."

(Look around.) "This place looks like a murder scene."

"Very funny, Hershel. Nobody has died here. What a weird thing to suggest."

And an even weirder thing to be so evasive about.

"You probably killed someone here, right?"

"I am extremely hurt by this notion, Hershel. It seems that the stars have not been aligning for you like they have been aligning for me."

"You see before you the aftermath of a soiree organized by the owner of this place, Mr. Reno, and those leaky EMTERR animals."

"My new employers suspect some pre-game EMTERR mind fuckery. Work with me and I'll tell you all about it."

"You probably wanged someone here, right?"

"You should've invited me."

"I forget sometimes that you can be very funny when you want to be, Hershel."

Say nothing.

The fluffy white cat yawns.

"I heard there was a party that got a bit out of a hand."

"So what happened here, some kind of party?"

"So you're babysitting the janitors."

"These aren't normal cleaners, Hershel, despite how you may perceive them. If they came in their true form it would arouse many suspicions."

"I'm guessing they're actually highly trained cats, standing on top of one another."

"Hershel, you have such a silly and wild imagination at times, I guess we'll never find out who is in those suits."

An unseen puppet master.

The ghost-remnants of a consciousness long lost, impressed upon the only part that's left.

That information is strictly self-hold.

"There's nothing inside those suits, is there?"

"Speaking as one, I'd say our true form is 'sausage-like'."

"These are very highly trained specialists, retained by my new employer for the most complex and sensitive assignments. More than that I can't tell you for your safety and mine."

"So what is their true form?"

"I notice that you're not doing any cleaning."

"Someone has to supervise the cleanup work. Someone capable and well balanced, someone attuned to secrets and their troublesome capacity to become common truths."

"Looks like a huge responsibility, how do you handle it?"

"Rituals of good living. I light candles to Aldebaran, who governs the hustle, I work out at the gym, I don't discharge my essence too often. It is all in the routines."

The cat governs its own hustle.

THE ESSENCE BELONGS TO THE STATE. IT IS TO BE DISCHARGED REGULARLY.

"Wait, what was that about your essence?"

"Please, Hershel, let's not act like we're not both people of the world." He smiles.

"You're a powerful individual, Ignatz. I can't believe I don't remember you."

"You attempt to prey on my vulnerability to words of affirmation, very underhanded, yet effective. It's really too bad we aren't working together on this."

On this clean-up. Right.

"Good for you."

"Thank you, Hershel."

"What kind of 'mind fuckery' have these animals gotten up to?"

"Think like an animal, Hershel. They don't look at the stars and ask themselves if they are really alone in the universe."

"They just drag themselves from sick pleasure to sick pleasure, distractions from having to fathom their place in a dark and endless universe."

Yum. Rut-rut.

"Is that really so bad, Ignatz?"

"Pretty fucked up if you ask me. I saw this thing on TV the other day, about pink dolphins. Did you know pink dolphins are all drug addicts and sexual deviants?"

Dolphin pods are known to ingest toxic animals and copulate for recreational purposes.

"Of course, everyone knows that."

"I knew I was right to seek you out."

"I love fathoming my place in a dark and endless universe."

The cat blinks incredibly slowly. Its place is here, now, in the eternal present.

"I do as well. We are both highly philosophical individuals, it's why we work together so effectively."

"So these animals like to party, you're saying?"

"You could say that, Hershel, but that is also a gross reduction of the truth. These days, one must think in all four dimensions to keep up with the latest advancements." He taps the side of his head.

The cat blinks incredibly slowly. It lives in an eternal present of nothing but pleasure.

"It may sound mad, but only because I've trained myself to see into their twisted minds. The bankers are backwards people, so you have to think in reverse to understand their moves."

"Is that also an EMTERR animal?" (Point to the cat.)

Alternative wording

"Don't tell me this beautiful and pure cat is one of these disgusting animals."

"Hah! They wish they had a creature of this stature representing them. No, this cat is of a far higher-tier of animal than the Bank mammals."

The cat yawns, showing off tiny yellow teeth.

"This doesn't answer my question at all."

The cat blinks incredibly slowly. If it ever knew the question, it has completely forgotten it now.

"Does it not? Or perhaps you just asked the wrong question?"

"I did not know that."

"It's important to be curious about the world, Hershel. It's how you make interesting connections, like what I did just now."

"So what's this 'opportunity' you mentioned?" (Proceed.)

"It's very straightforward: I'd like you to take some wildlife photography. I would like to see some leaky animals in their natural habitat, doing what such animals do."

His dedication to metaphor is respectable, obfuscatory, serene -- a probable disciple of Dositeo Fernandez.

"Ignatz. Please -- half the words, twice as good."

"Oh, Hershel. Where has the passion gone? Where's the vim, the vigor? This is not inspirational, not at all."

"But fine. I'll indulge." He sighs. "One of the men providing physical security for these upcoming talks is a carabinero rat. He's leaking information to his controller."