Branch
Branch
The magic box hums its secret tune. In a dark Novessa sub-basement, your controller answers.
"Operant, I'm glad you called. How's it going over there?"
Her voice: tired, thin. She's been at her desk for many hours.
Branch
"I was just wondering, have you had a chance to reconnect with ESTOC yet?"
"Gears are turning, Mel. These things take time."
"Vague. Not terribly reassuring. Try again, please."
"You're not going to believe this: The Head of Human Capital is Eszti Newitz."
"Really? You're certain of that?"
"I heard it from a drunk in Party Alley. Top-tier source."
"The Manus Fati has given us a very interesting board-state." A pause. "Well done."
Sincere.
"In that case, I suppose you're well on your way. Meet with ESTOC. Find out what they want for the prisoner. That's the first step to untangling this knot."
"We'll see if Eszti's forgiven me for last time."
"You don't need her to forgive you, you just need her to help you. Now, what's on your mind?"
Branch
Branch
"We're on, Mel. Tomorrow." [Commit to the assignment.]
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
"Tomorrow..." She takes a breath. "So that means you've got everything in order? Plot, tools, squad?"
"All of it, I'm ready."
"We need to go through it, for the records."
For your pomegranate red folder, she means. Material for future reviews, case studies and post mortems.
"Ready when you are."
Branch
"Let's go over my squad."
"To your chosen four, then."
Four hearts, four points of light, waiting for you to draw the constellation between them.
"Let's start with the easy one: You, CASCADE -- you will be Knight-Errant."
To assemble and guide the rest.
A tensing deep in your gut as your name is committed.
"Actually, I'd rather designate PSEUDOPOD as Knight-Errant."
Branch
"The operant who was last seen hurling himself out your window? Absolutely not."
"Your Cupbearer?"
Branch
To stand by you absolutely.
Branch
"KALEIDOSCOPE."
"... who the hell is KALEIDOSCOPE?"
"He works for EMTERR. Or used to. Now he works for me."
A long silence on the other end of the line.
He's already turned once. He could just as easily do it again.
That's assuming it's a legitimate defection and not a double bluff from a vastly superior operant.
The man has nowhere else to go. There is no one better for the assignment.
"Trust me on this, Mel."
"KALEIDOSCOPE it is, then."
"Your Astronomist?"
"KALEIDOSCOPE it is, then."Branch 91"Then let's hope he was worth the price we paid.""Whatever keeps you motivated, I suppose...""I see." She weighs it up. "I suppose we'll have to take the odds.""... Very good.""It is now the final name.""Nothing, CASCADE." A heavy sigh."I've already written it down.""Hopefully you've diverted all power to tactical success, as opposed to creative."
Branch
To reflect things in a different light.
"Karolina."
Branch
"KINDRED. Much better."
"Lastly -- your Fool?"
"KINDRED. Much better.""KINDRED.""Ah. I was foolishly hoping that might be the one you were swapping out.""Unfortunately, policy dictates I defer to the assignment lead here. Let's move on.""Again with Mi-ho..." A pause. "I won't be writing that down.""I won't be writing that down. And I'm not even going to ask what a 'miho' is."
Branch
For a reason known only to the Knight-Errant.
Branch
"Ramses."
"RADIAN."
Branch
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, KALEIDOSCOPE, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, RADIAN."
The names feel heavy, irreversible. Marked in blood for offering.
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, KALEIDOSCOPE, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, RADIAN.""So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, CRYPTONYM TBD, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, RADIAN.""So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, KALEIDOSCOPE, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, PSEUDOPOD.""So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, CRYPTONYM TBD, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, PSEUDOPOD.""So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, KALEIDOSCOPE, Astronomist, HOLOCENE and Fool, PSEUDOPOD.""So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, CRYPTONYM TBD, Astronomist, HOLOCENE and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
Sounds like a band.
Branch
Branch
"And you're certain this is the squad? Once I submit this form we're committed."
DEFEAT LEADS TO AN IRREVERSIBLE IMBALANCE UPON THE WORLD STAGE. EQUILIBRIUM DISINTEGRATES FROM A SINGLE POINT -- YOU.
Branch
"What's your take, is that a good line up?"
Branch
"You can't possibly expect me to offer an opinion on this 'KALEIDOSCOPE', I've only just learned of his existence."
Branch
"HOLOCENE and PSEUDOPOD are a conceptual gamble, but one that could pay off greatly."
"But this is not my squad, CASCADE. If these are the people you want by your side, then I would call it a good line up."
Branch
Branch
"RADIAN and KINDRED are experienced assets who trust you implicitly, despite what happened five years ago. Though that comes with its own emotional weight, I would imagine."
"KINDRED and PSEUDOPOD are mentally... fragile, per your reports, but seem very keen to prove themselves. Sometimes that can carry an asset all the way."
"My take? CRYPTONYM TBD is untested, bold, borderline... which may be exactly what this task calls for."
Alternative wording
"My take? YOUNGBLOOD is obviously untested, bold, borderline... which may be exactly what this task calls for."
Alternative wording
"My take? YO-YO is untested, bold, borderline... which may be exactly what this task calls for."
"This doesn't feel right. Let me start again."
"Okay. Be sure this time. From the top -- Knight-Errant is still unavoidably you."
Branch
"Your Cupbearer remains KALEIDOSCOPE."
'Yeah, I put a lot of work into him."
"So you say."
Branch
"Your Cupbearer must be CRYPTONYM TBD."
Alternative wording
"Your Cupbearer must be... YOUNGBLOOD."
Alternative wording
"Your Cupbearer must be YO-YO."
"CRYPTONYM TBD is my ride or die."
Alternative wording
"YOUNGBLOOD is my ride or die."
Alternative wording
"YO-YO is my ride or die."
"Certainly."
"Yeah. That's us."
"So it is. So it will be."
Branch
Branch
A heavy silence falls over the line.
Her eyes reflect the glow of the terminal screen. She's been at her desk for fourteen hours today.
"And what about after?"
"There'll be no getting out of Portofiro by plane. The phones won't be safe any longer, either."
The world is so heavy its mass can only be measured in septillions of kilograms. That is the incredible weight you'll have destabilised by your actions.
AN IRREVERSIBLE BLOW TO ALTER THE WORLD'S AXIS. IT WILL TAKE CENTURIES FOR EQUILIBRIUM TO BE RESTORED.
"Not even the magic box?"
"No. Once you set off, Constanz will scrub all trace of you and the Opera from Foto 24. It will be like you never existed."
"So how do we get out?"
"I can get you a boat."
"A boat. That's nice."
"You say that now, wait till you see it."
"It's a signals vessel, part of the network that makes your magic box work. It's... small. There'll be just enough space for you onboard."
A bleep-bloop boat, in other words.
Branch
"Wait, what about my squad?"
"Getting everyone out at once is out of the question. I'm sorry. Your squadmates will have to fend for themselves until we can arrange for their extraction."
There will be no 'extraction'. Just a box of tools discarded at the worksite.
"You couldn't find a bigger boat?"
"There's nothing I can do, CASCADE. We're making it up as we go along."
"We won't forget them. But we have to work with what we've got, and what we've got is a single, very cramped boat. You're lucky we can get anyone out on such short notice."
"Fuck this, Mel. What are we even doing here?"
"Our jobs, CASCADE. Same as we always have."
There'll be plenty of time to think of a more personally satisfying answer while you're on the boat. Alone.
Branch
"There's a relay buoy in the Noscorrentes, international waters. It's secure and safe. Call me when you reach it, and we'll discuss next steps."
"This is a lot to keep in mind."
"Pitol Tract. Boat. Buoy. I believe in your ability to retain and order these facts."
"Oh, and don't forget to kill the Lich."
"I'm not leaving my people to the Weeping Eye again."
"I know. We'll get them out, as soon as we can."
They won't.
"Get whatever rest you can. And take solace in this -- by this time tomorrow, it will be over."
She hesitates for a second.
"Luck and skill, operant."
A click in your ear -- a moment of silence, then the familiar hum, somehow more empty than the silence.
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
End of this branch
"You always knew this was how it was going to play out, didn't you?"
"A highly original thesis. Also completely irrelevant now."
"You're fucking me here. You're fucking me again."
"Believe what you want. It doesn't matter now."
"Alright. I'm ready."
"Fine. What then?"
Branch
"Mel, I'm not leaving them behind. This is just like last time."
"They'll manage. They did once before."
"I suppose they will."
A deeply off-putting answer, she thinks.
Branch
Say nothing.
Branch
The Operant Bureau probably has loads of boats. A whole secret navy.
"And after I catch the boat -- then what?"
"What kind of boat?"
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
It sounds like a hit list.
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, CRYPTONYM TBD, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, RADIAN."
Alternative wording
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, YOUNGBLOOD, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, RADIAN."
Alternative wording
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, YO-YO, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, RADIAN."
"PSEUDOPOD."
"Your zeroed out double... you're serious?"
Branch
"We've worked through our issues. We'll make a good pair."
"Just as the Opera intended."
A pleasing symmetry. She likes that very much.
"Just as the Opera intended.""Not quite how I imagined you'd run your squad, but... somehow this is what the Opera intended.""Sounds like a management challenge, but... somehow, this is what the Opera intended.""I suppose that'll serve us well if he winds up getting interrogated... somehow, this is what the Opera…
Branch
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, KALEIDOSCOPE, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, CRYPTONYM TBD, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
Alternative wording
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, YOUNGBLOOD, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
Alternative wording
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, YO-YO, Astronomist, KINDRED and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
"He's my pick. Write it down."
"Maybe he just needs someone to set a good example."
Branch
"I reestablished the hierarchy. He knows his place now."
"Not quite how I imagined you'd run your squad, but... somehow this is what the Opera intended."
Branch
"He still basically thinks he's me, so he's probably going to turn up anyway."
"Sounds like a management challenge, but... somehow, this is what the Opera intended."
Branch
"He still thinks he's a sock importer. His cover is impregnable."
"I suppose that'll serve us well if he winds up getting interrogated... somehow, this is what the Opera intended."
"PSEUDOPOD."
"Your zeroed out double... you're serious?"
Branch
"We've worked through our issues. We'll make a good pair."
"Just as the Opera intended."
A pleasing symmetry. She likes that very much.
"Just as the Opera intended.""Not quite how I imagined you'd run your squad, but... somehow this is what the Opera intended.""Sounds like a management challenge, but... somehow, this is what the Opera intended.""I suppose that'll serve us well if he winds up getting interrogated... somehow, this is what the Opera…
Branch
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, KALEIDOSCOPE, Astronomist, HOLOCENE and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, CRYPTONYM TBD, Astronomist, HOLOCENE and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
Alternative wording
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, YOUNGBLOOD, Astronomist, HOLOCENE and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
Alternative wording
"So that's Knight-Errant, CASCADE, Cupbearer, YO-YO, Astronomist, HOLOCENE and Fool, PSEUDOPOD."
"He's my pick. Write it down."
"Maybe he just needs someone to set a good example."
Branch
"I reestablished the hierarchy. He knows his place now."
"Not quite how I imagined you'd run your squad, but... somehow this is what the Opera intended."
Branch
"He still basically thinks he's me, so he's probably going to turn up anyway."
"Sounds like a management challenge, but... somehow, this is what the Opera intended."
Branch
"He still thinks he's a sock importer. His cover is impregnable."
"I suppose that'll serve us well if he winds up getting interrogated... somehow, this is what the Opera intended."
The one you cannot do without.
"KINDRED."
"HOLOCENE."
Branch
"Ah. I was foolishly hoping that might be the one you were swapping out."
You hear the faint crack of pen hitting desk and a slow intake of breath.
"He'll be good, Mel."
"Unfortunately, policy dictates I defer to the assignment lead here. Let's move on."
"Also, he asked me to pass this on: 'Though any trust comes pre-eroded, M.I.H.O. looks forward to working with the Operant Bureau.'"
Branch
"Again with Mi-ho..." A pause. "I won't be writing that down."
"I won't be writing that down. And I'm not even going to ask what a 'miho' is."
The one who provides a different point of view.
Say nothing.
"You're sure?"
"I bought his loyalty. If he turns up, he'll be a top-tier Cupbearer."
"Then let's hope he was worth the price we paid."
"Dunno, but I really want to get one over on the Bank."
"Whatever keeps you motivated, I suppose..."
"Honestly, I'm like fifty-fifty on him."
"I see." She weighs it up. "I suppose we'll have to take the odds."
"Yana."
"Cryptonym?"
Branch
"YO-YO."
"... Very good."
"YOUNGBLOOD."
She mutters something to herself.
'Sounds like a first stab'.
"Working name, get off my dick."
"It is now the final name."
"What was that?"
"Nothing, CASCADE." A heavy sigh.
"I didn't have time to think of one."
"'CRYPTONYM TBD' it is."
"Hold on, give me a second..."
"I've already written it down."
"I think I peaked with this name stuff five years ago."
"Hopefully you've diverted all power to tactical success, as opposed to creative."
The one who should never waver.
"According to your own reports, PSEUDOPOD is still drooling on himself in the side room at Foto 24. He is a Zero."
"This time will be better."
"That's me. Terminal lead shit."
The one who must only bend and never break.
"Let's discuss the plot."
"Yes. What have you found out?"
"The Grand Lich is scheduled to make a visit to a local shrine to Luzian war criminals. It's not on his official schedule. He'll be traveling with a reduced guard detail."
"Good. Very good, operant. This is a lot to work with. Hold on." She's writing furiously.
"The guard detail, what do we know about it?"
"The Hundred Eyed Golem is overseeing the Lich's protection personally."
"The head of the Weeping Eye is there, in Portofiro?"
Stopped in her tracks.
"Sounds bad, right?"
"I can't say it's 'good'..."
"CASCADE, something about this doesn't smell right. It makes me think..."
... she should call off the assignment.
"We've got it, Mel. We can't go back now."
"You're right... you're right. We both know what we signed up for."
Branch
"Here's my recommendation: Tomorrow morning you, your Three and your Four will travel to the war criminals' shrine by aero-tram, as early as you can manage."
Alternative wording
"Here's my recommendation: Tomorrow morning you, RADIAN, and KINDRED will travel to the war criminals' shrine by aero-tram, as early as you can manage."
Alternative wording
"Here's my recommendation: Tomorrow morning you, PSEUDOPOD, and KAROLINA will travel to the war criminals' shrine by aero-tram, as early as you can manage."
Alternative wording
"Here's my recommendation: Tomorrow morning you, PSEUDOPOD, and HOLOCENE will travel to the war criminals' shrine by aero-tram, as early as you can manage."
"An unwelcome party."
"Something like that, yes."
"Your Two will follow later, on the same tram as the Lich and his entourage."
Alternative wording
"YO-YO will follow later, on the same tram as the Lich and his entourage."
Alternative wording
"YOUNGBLOOD will follow later, on the same tram as the Lich and his entourage."
Alternative wording
"CRYPTONYM TBD will follow later, on the same tram as the Lich and his entourage."
Alternative wording
"KALEIDOSCOPE will follow later, on the same tram as the Lich and his entourage."
A heart without its ribcage.
You'll only know it's gone wrong when a body shows up on the other side, punctured and bloody.
"Why my Two?"
Alternative wording
"Are you sure she's the one for it?"
Alternative wording
"Are you sure he's the one for it?"
"It needs to be someone you can trust absolutely. Your Two is the only one that makes sense."
Alternative wording
"I've thought it over: She's not likely to be on the Weeping Eye's watchlists. YO-YO is the only one that makes sense."
Alternative wording
"I've thought it over: She's not likely to be on the Weeping Eye's watchlists. YOUNGBLOOD is the only one that makes sense."
Alternative wording
"I've thought it over: She's not likely to be on the Weeping Eye's watchlists. CRYPTONYM TBD is the only one that makes sense."
Alternative wording
"I've thought it over: He's not likely to be on the Weeping Eye's watchlists. KALEIDOSCOPE is the only one that makes sense."
Even as you've been speaking your controller's silently been gaming out every possible manoeuvre. She knows what she's doing.
"Once the Lich's aero-tram has arrived, rendezvous with your Two and plan your next moves."
Branch
"I could put the bomb on the Lich's tram, perhaps."
"If I recall, the aero-trams there have jukeboxes in them. If you were insane I suppose you could rig one of them to play the disc..."
"But this is assuming it even works, which I don't know that I'd bet the assignment on."
Or your life.
"It'll work. The power of rock cannot be stopped."
"Then long may you rock, operant." You detect a coy smile on the other side of the line.
Branch
"I'll just keep the bomb as a backup."
"There is something classic about a gun and a bomb." You hear her tap her pen. "In the old days, operants used to call it the sword and spell-book."
Except for the old Kohilan hands, who used to call it 'potatoes two ways'.
"Any ideas how I could use the red disc?"
"If I recall, the aero-trams there have jukeboxes in them. I suppose you could rig one of them to play it, but... I don't know, operant."
"Are you sure about this?"
Hesitation in her voice.
"You don't think I should use it?"
"I didn't say what you should or shouldn't do. This is your assignment."
'Don't do it. If you do, I won't recognise you anymore.'
Branch
"I have it on the authority of an insane man with a paper bag on his head."
"Not a very comforting thing to hear at this juncture, but it's your assignment."
"I'm sure of nothing."
"It seems like we're leaving a lot to the imagination here."
"It's true. We're going to need a lot of imagination to pull this off."
"If this is a 'ritual', there must surely be rites to perform. With luck, you may even catch the Lich unattended... though I wouldn't count on it."
"How do we make sure they're on the right tram?"
Alternative wording
"How do we make sure she's on the right tram?"
Alternative wording
"How do we make sure he's on the right tram?"
"Fortunately, there's only one aero-tram that goes to the Shrine to Deathless Heroes. It shouldn't be too hard to keep an eye out for the Lich's party."
"Right, sounds good."
Stuck in a metal box moving at 55km/h in close proximity to the enemy. No way to call in backup, no way to jump out.
"What about my Two?"
Alternative wording
"What about Yana?"
Alternative wording
"What about KALEIDOSCOPE?"
"Maybe this was all a big mistake."
"There's that possibility. But if it is, we've already committed to it. Nothing left but to see it through."
Say nothing.
"Well, forget it. We've committed to this line of action. Nothing left but to see it through."
"I understand the Lich and the Golem are rivals of some kind."
"Yes, that matches our own analysis. I wonder..."
"That's what I've heard."
"Not much, only that the Lich expected to have fewer than usual."
"Hmm, alright." You hear a pen click several times in rapid succession.
"Let's talk about tools."
"Right. You managed to procure a gun at least."
"I didn't 'procure' anything: I fabricated my own death machine."
"Fine, whatever. Anything else on the subject of tools?"
Branch
Branch
"I have the old bomb."
"You mean the 30-year-old Opera bomb that's set to detonate to a novelty rock song? That bomb?"
"Yes."
Branch
"I believe the aero-trams in Portofiro have jukeboxes in them. If you were insane I suppose you could rig one of them to play the disc..."
"It'll work. The power of rock cannot be stopped."
"Then long may you rock, operant." You detect a coy smile on the other side of the line.
Branch
"Maybe I'll just keep the bomb as a backup."
"There is something classic about a gun and a bomb." You hear her tap her pen. "In the old days, operants used to call it the sword and spell-book."
Except for the old Kohilan hands, who called it 'potatoes two ways'.
"It's a very specific tool, but who knows. Maybe you'll think of something."
Branch
"'Superbloc, Baby' is timeless in its scope and grandeur."
"For a while they played it at the dance clubs when it was time to leave. I remember it came on once while I was making out with this girl from Lävendi." she sighs. "Anyway..."
"I also managed to reconstruct the red disc, the one that zeroed out PSEUDOPOD."
"How? I thought that was supposed to be impossible?"
"It's a long and frankly very confusing story, involving an underground mugging and local television personality."
Branch
"If I recall, the aero-trams there have jukeboxes in them. I suppose you could rig one of them to play it, but... I don't know, CASCADE."
Hesitation in her voice.
"You don't think I should use it?"
"I didn't say what you should or shouldn't do. This is your assignment."
'Don't do it,' her voice says. 'If you do, I won't recognise you anymore.'
Branch
"I have it on the authority of an insane man with a paper bag on his head."
"Not a very comforting thing to hear at this juncture, but it's your assignment."
"I have no way of knowing."
"How were you intending to use it, exactly?"
"I was thinking some kind of elaborate ambush, with loudspeakers and such."
"Sounds fanciful."
Branch
"No concrete plans yet, just intimations."
"Right..."
"I no longer serve the Opera, I'm a bold partisan of the real."
"Turns out it was less impossible than it appeared."
"I found this pelota ball in a doorway."
"And? What's that got to do with anything?"
"I'm just saying, I have it."
"I'm happy for you, operant."
Branch
"Nothing, no idea why I brought it up."
"Right. I'm going to leave the pelota ball out of my records."
"That's all."
"Very good."
Branch
"I didn't just 'procure' a gun, I also made my own. I'm doubled up."
"Superfluous, but alright. Anything else on the subject of tools?"
"Yeah, I got one. We're set."
"Good, so that's covered. Anything else on the subject of tools?"
"Yeah, you know. Basically."
"'Basically'. Not a word that fills my heart with confidence." A pause. "Well, let's go through it, for the records."
"I found a strange cipher, Mel. Could use your help."
Branch
"I dropped by the Fogged Mirror."
"Your old schnapps den."
A ripple through your heart. She remembers.
She has a copy of your pomegranate folder open in front of her. All your patterns and tells: itemised.
"Was it as you left it?"
"It was like everyone was still there."
"A bit haunted, that's natural. Involuntary memories... You impressed yourself onto that place, just as it's impressed onto you." Sound of a chair creaking.
Spoken from experience.
"A bit haunted, that's natural. Involuntary memories... You impressed yourself onto that place, just as it's…"Yes, a lot of things are different now. But it won't always be easy to tell what." Sound of a chair creaking."But it wasn't. You passed many evenings with your assets there. Places like that tend to be thick with…
Branch
"You know the feeling?"
"Of finding something exactly as you left it but also irrevocably lost?"
"Yes, of course."
"When was the last time you felt it?"
"Hmm. The street I grew up on. Our neighbour's roof lost its chimney in a storm. She righted it and used it as a planter in her front garden. Peonies. I found the current occupants still tend it the same way, though they cannot know how the strange planter came to be."
A child's memory -- frightened by thunder and the crash of brick in the night.
"It's just nostalgia, CASCADE. You must have wanted a dose."
Branch
"Guess everybody does."
"Yes, everybody. Only some people are more interested in their feelings than others."
"I thought I might wallow in the past."
"I suggest you don't submerge yourself in your darkest and most painful parts. It's not very healthy."
"But those are my favourite parts."
"Ah, so you haven't changed that much, after all."
"Why would I?"
"Very fair point." She sighs. "Was there something else?"
Branch
"Are you impressed?"
"Not really." An impatient pause. "Was there something else?"
"Fine, I'll stop."
"Let's keep the past at arm's length. You're here for a new task, not to replay the old days."
"Now, was there something else?"
"I just brush the feelings off."
"So the plan is to stuff the past in the back of the closet and forget about it, does that sound about right?"
One-hundred percent. What we can't feel can't hurt us.
"I'll thaw it out when the time is right."
"Yes, exactly."
"You've changed. In the old days you'd have drowned yourself in your dark and sticky parts."
"New task, new me."
"So it appears. Let's see how long it lasts." A pause. "Was there something else?"
"Are you surprised?"
"Mildly." A pause. "Was there something else?"
"No, it was different."
"Yes, a lot of things are different now. But it won't always be easy to tell what." Sound of a chair creaking.
"Felt like any other bar."
"But it wasn't. You passed many evenings with your assets there. Places like that tend to be thick with associations." Sound of a chair creaking.
"Melita! How are people in the Developed World supposed to make money?"
"The eternal question." A pause. "I'm guessing this means your generous stipend has not in fact covered your various expenses."
"Absolutely depleted. I have attained the zero."
"Impressive, also concerning."
"Realistically, I see three options available to you: You could resort to a life of minor criminality. You could adopt a more lucrative ideology. Or, of course, you could get a job."
"Impressive, also concerning.""Sounds serious. Well, we can't have you destitute."Dripping skepticism."Let's call it 'for blending into the Developed World', shall we?""I can't fault you. We'll call it 'restocking the mental kitchen', shall we?""I have no idea what that means. Please don't explain."
Branch
"Minor criminality. That sounds like me."
"The Developed World is basically a massive machine for continually extracting small amounts of money from people. All you need to do is turn that machinery into your own automated teller."
"I'd say vending machines are your best bet."
Yes! Crack them and gut them. Spend their offal on sweet pleasures.
Make it political, a war on the automated future.
"I'll do it for all the workers displaced by automation."
"Sure, whatever. Just don't get caught."
Branch
"Perfect. Plus it'll give me a lawbreaker's mystique."
"You will have no mystique because you will not get caught."
"I'd prefer not. Might be a gateway to major crimes."
"There are other options..."
Branch
Coward.
"Tell me about my other options, just in case."
"Very well."
"Speak to me of these other ideologies."
"Painful though it may be to admit, there are reality organising systems more compatible with fat sol stacks than post-historical materialism."
Sounded like she really enjoyed saying 'fat sol stacks'. See if you can get her to say it again.
"More compatible with... what was it?"
"Fat. Sol. Stacks."
Delicious.
"You mean I should become a capitalist?"
Alternative wording
"I've already gotten mixed up in an EMTERR microfinance scheme."
"Strictly for economic purposes. We're talking about what's in your brain, not your heart."
Alternative wording
"Right, right..."
Branch
"What if I want to go techno-fascist instead?"
Alternative wording
"I'm already a brand ambassador for the Final Society."
"Know your enemy by becoming your enemy? Sure, why not. So long as it's all just pretend."
Alternative wording
"Know your enemy by becoming your enemy? Sure, why not. So long as it's all just pretend."
Let her think it's pretend, but you know the truth. They have better stuff.
"Not feeling this ideology angle. Let's try another way."
Alternative wording
"I will never betray post-historical materialism, not even ironically, in the privacy of my own mind. There must be another way."
"Sure, take your pick."
Alternative wording
"Sure, take your pick."
"I already have a job. You just don't pay good."
"I mean in-theatre. There must be some positions open for the sock exporter down on their sales. Dog walker, shoe shiner?"
You realise you have seen no dogs in Portofiro.
Branch
Dr. Hugo must have killed them all.
"The dogs are all dead, Mel."
"I'll take your word for it. Not dog walker, then."
"The Boatman seems like a solid working-class individual. Maybe I can help him move crates or something."
"I don't know if I would've pegged you for manual labour, but sounds like a promising start, in any event."
Branch
"I don't know if I would've pegged you for manual labour, but sounds like a promising start, in any event."MAINTENANCE WORK IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL. ALTHOUGH THE SOUL IS AN INDIVIDUALIST CONSTRUCT. PERFORM SELF CRIT FOR…"Sure, why not. You're already a fixture around there."Ignore her. You're definitely a real person."As I said, you have options."
"The building manager in the Housing Campaign looks like he needs help."
"Maintenance work. Yes, that sounds like it has strong 'job' potential."
MAINTENANCE WORK IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL. ALTHOUGH THE SOUL IS AN INDIVIDUALIST CONSTRUCT. PERFORM SELF CRIT FOR IMAGINING A SOUL.
"Maybe I can pick up a few shifts at the Fogged Mirror."
"Sure, why not. You're already a fixture around there."
Alternative wording
"Ah, yes. Making your vices work for you, I've heard of this phenomenon."
"I haven't encountered anyone who does anything gainful or productive."
"That's what happens when you only hang around with spies and artists. Try talking to some real people and ask them about what they do."
Ignore her. You're definitely a real person.
"Sounds hard. I'll betray my beliefs instead."
"As I said, you have options."
"The dogs are all wanged, Mel."
"Can't you just give me some money?"
"But, I have been giving you money. When you complete your tasks, you surely recall."
"I must've misplaced my funds. Can you send me some more?"
"Misallocating the People's Funds comes with a two-year sentence to the lunar cadmium mines."
"Mel, I have to tell you, this being broke thing, it's not working for me. It's not possible to spy this way."
"I'm sympathetic, but this isn't really up to me."
The sound of a coin purse jingling from behind the curtain... a single copper rolls onto the stage.
"The Bursar's Office is incredibly tightfisted." She sighs. "I suppose we could apply for an exceptional infusion, but I'd need to provide a very compelling reason."
"A reason, okay. I'll think of something."
"I look forward to it."
Branch
"I'm feeling very exploited by the Opera. You need to liberate me from the commodity form."
"Other options are available to you, of course. Shall I tell you about them?"
"It's not your money anyway. Help me out here."
"The sol's in the toilet. This won't even buy me a belt to hang myself."
"Then I suppose you'll have to live."
"You know what, talking about money bores me." (Go back.)
"What else is on your mind, operant?"
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
"I prefer 'rapidly approaching the zero'."
"Sounds serious. Well, we can't have you destitute."
"It's for the assignment, I promise."
"The assignment? Very well, must be important."
Dripping skepticism.
"It's for cool new clothes."
"Let's call it 'for blending into the Developed World', shall we?"
"It's for alcohol and drugs."
"I can't fault you. We'll call it 'restocking the mental kitchen', shall we?"
"CASCADE is my name, accumulation is my game."
"I have no idea what that means. Please don't explain."
"I need some more money-making tips."
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
Branch
Give Melita a reason to front you some lucre.
Time to flip this situation on its head. It's your controller who needs to give you the reason.
"Mel, there is one thing. But it's so asinine, there's no way the Bursar's Office will go for it."
"Oh god, be serious. You're not suggesting... this is about nominalism, are you?"
No entries. Sounds fake and made up.
It's not, it's an essential concept in the latter writings of the critic Dositeo Fernandez.
"That's right. This whole assignment's been nominal from the get-go, in the true Fernandean sense."
"I have no idea what that means. Good thing the Bursars don't either. They just heard it somewhere one day and started repeating it."
Memetic contagion. A massive risk to any modern organisation.
"But that's the thing with these new watchwords. All you have to do is say 'This initiative supports our nominal pillar' and they'll throw gobs of resources at you, whether anything comes of it or not."
Branch
Unfortunately, this appears to be based on a complete and tragic misreading of Dositeo Fernandez. 'Nominalism' is a principle and mode of investigation, not a corporate pillar.
"This seems like a very natural and cool way to allocate resources."
"It is a way, one we'll make work to our advantage, in this instance."
(Say it.) "Mel, this initiative supports our nominal pillar."
Branch 526Unfortunately, this appears to be based on a complete and tragic misreading of Dositeo Fernandez.…"It is a way, one we'll make work to our advantage, in this instance.""I'll take your word for it. I've never been one for theory, personally.""This is true. We have to remind ourselves constantly."
"You know, it feels a bit like casting a magic spell. A very cynical one, that grants you loads of money without obligation. I feel slightly disgusted with myself, but maybe with all that money I can get some less abrasive soap from the commissary."
"I'll let the Bursar's Office know we've discovered an unexpectedly nominal dimension to this assignment. Hopefully that should be worth a decent infusion for your purposes."
There is something incredibly satisfying about making that 'nom' sound. You should do it some more, just to see what happens.
"Nominalism... nominality... nominalisation..."
"Nom nom nom nom."
So good. You could do this forever.
Branch
"Nom nom nom nom."
"Nomma nomma nomma."
"Nomity nom nom."
"Nommamomma."
"Nom nom."
"Nom nom nom."
Branch
"Okay. Cool. Enough of that."
"Enjoy your infusion. Get yourself something nice."
Branch
"You're brilliant, Mel. Thank you for your continued support."
"Very sad, how the theory has been distorted into something unrecognisable."
"I'll take your word for it. I've never been one for theory, personally."
"We didn't create this world, Mel. We just have to survive within it."
"This is true. We have to remind ourselves constantly."
"Nominalism, Mel. What does it even mean?"
"I have no idea what it means. Personally, I don't even think the Bursars know. They just heard it somewhere one day and started repeating it."
"You're right, you're right. Too stupid. Not even worth saying out loud."
You're not suggesting it: she is.
Branch
You've got nothing. Face it, you're being debanked by the Opera.
Branch
Branch
Okay, new approach: Sweet and simple.
"Come on, Mel: Who's your favourite operant?"
"WARLOCK."
"Wait, who the fuck is 'WARLOCK'?"
"Our best hand in Ansaunne. Hardworking, diligent, completes her assignments on-time and under budget."
'Her'?
"You just made her up. This person doesn't exist. You're trying to make me jealous."
"I'm enjoying how this started out about you asking for money but now suddenly we're discussing your psycho-sexual pathologies."
"If you expect me to go to the Bursar on your behalf, I need more to work with."
Branch
"Is she that good though? Really?"
"She has a shoebox full of medals waiting for her in Novessa when she returns. Which she will, because she's highly competent at her job."
"I thought you would say me."
"I know you did. That's why you're on the losing side of this exchange."
This calls for a sob story, here goes:
"Tell the Bursar it's actually not for me, it's for Constanz. She's got a gambling addiction. She's in deep with the Azzurri mob."
Alternative wording
"Tell the Bursar it's actually not for me, it's for Constanz. She's a horrible ether addict. She's in deep with the Azzurri mob."
"Assuming I believe you, which I don't, your proposal is for the Opera to allow itself to be extorted by the Azzurri mob. That's what I'm hearing?"
"So on the one hand, I think that's a pretty reasonable response. But let me play around with this a little bit..."
"No. The Bursar's not going to let you 'play around' with the Opera's funds. Try again."
Branch
"The Azzurris have got dream-stalkers hounding her in her sleep, threatening to cut off one of her nipples if we don't pay."
"Not an image I needed in my mind just now. The answer is no. Try again."
"Yes."
"No. Try again."
"I need your help with something assignment-related."
Alternative wording
"I need your help again, Mel."
Branch
"I have news about Tempo: He's alive, kind of."
"Tell me everything."
A pen stands to attention in a long-fingered hand.
"Tempo's teenage deputy -- Yana. She says she is Tempo."
"As I recall, Tempo del Sur is a hulking middle aged man. Fifty-one years old, weight 140 kilos or so."
"He got a device from Luz, it's supposed to make imprints of people."
"Ah, I see. You've got yourself the famed 'Luzian imprinting device', is that it?"
"You know about this stuff?"
Branch
"Please. Dubious lore about Luzian imprinting techniques are stock and trade. We get defectors shopping all kinds of wild tales."
"Personally I find this stuff a bit hard to follow, but the usual line is that these 'imprints' are meant to preserve the consciousness of an old political philosopher called 'Anonimo'."
Branch
"What kind of wild tales?"
"Unintelligible stuff, mainly. Babble about dream erasure, mass hallucinogenic events, villages of psychic duplicates, acting and thinking in concert. And yes, some of them claim to have seen magic devices that copy one consciousness onto the mind of another. Never substantiated, of course."
Nightmare-grade material. You have to try it out.
"Usually they just want money and a nice state-issued apartment in one of the nicer People's Republics."
Branch
"You don't believe there's anything to it?"
"It's not my job to believe, it's my job to condense fact from the vapour of rumour and speculation."
"No one outside La Luz understands how this 'imprinting' business really works, if it even works. Some days I think it's all just devious propaganda."
"What's so special about this 'Anonimo' character?"
"I believe he's supposed to be the original theorist of techno-fascism. You'd need to talk to a remembrancer to learn more, I'd think."
Or, perhaps, a genuine techno-fascist.
Branch
"Tempo managed to import this strange device from Luz, it's supposed to make imprints of people."
"Oh yeah? Does it work?"
"It needs special batteries."
"How convenient."
"What makes you sure your old friend didn't simply buy himself a bridge in the depths of a cocaine fugue?"
"The girl -- she is Tempo. I believe her."
"Believe what you choose, operant."
You hear the sound of a pen dropping onto a pad of paper, unused.
Branch
"What else is on your mind?"
"This whole thing stinks of an insurance scam."
"Welcome to the Developed World. If you don't know who's paying out, it's probably you."
Branch
"Whatever, new topic."
"I think that's a good idea."
"Yana says it does."
"She would, naturally."
"I don't know. I haven't used it yet."
"Alright then."
"I have the device."
"Luzian imprints. What do we know about them?"
"How was your day?"
"An unprofessional question."
"I could make it more unprofessional."
"CASCADE... Don't."
"I still want to know how your day was."
Her sigh crackles in your ear.
"It was fine, almost over. I packed a supper for the train home."
A liquid supper.
"Any food or just liqueur?"
"Oh I ate in the cafeteria. No need for more solids until I get home."
"It's a long journey, not much to see, nothing to do. Especially after dark. Mostly just my own reflection in the glass, city lights zipping by. It's peaceful."
The heavy thud and sway of the Kohilan National Railway. She knows every jerk and bend along the route.
Beyond the curved windows, fields and suburbs of identical single-story houses. When they dim the coach lights, stars come out in force.
"Do you think we've ever been on the same train, at the same time?"
"Maybe. I've certainly had the thought."
Something takes flight in your chest. She thinks of you.
"What would I do if I saw you one day, at large in Novessa like a real person and not just a little photograph paperclipped to a file..."
Branch
"I am a real person."
"Not right now, not in-theatre. You're playing a part."
Branch
"I hope it's a good picture."
An overlong silence.
Damn.
"It isn't. Or, the latest one isn't. I don't know when they replaced it. 92, maybe?"
When you were the worst disaster of yourself.
"You look angry. But also quite fragile. Like you've woken up in someone else's body." She tuts at herself, struggling to get the words right. "I like it."
Branch
"Imagine you do see me on your train home tonight. What would you do?"
"Nothing."
She pronounces the word like a caress.
"Why?"
"Because my job is to be your tether -- not just to the Opera, but to yourself."
"In-theatre work can be excruciatingly lonely. You spend all day hiding yourself from the world, acutely attuned to a million possible threats. It's amazing. I don't know how any of you do it..."
Hear that? She thinks we're amazing.
"I can't be your connection to yourself if you're also connected to me."
"Tell me I'm amazing again."
"I said that what you do is amazing." She chuckles softly. "Now goodnight, CASCADE. I'll drink to your health."
A click, and she's gone.
"But I am connected to you."
"I know." She chuckles, warm and inviting. "Now goodnight, CASCADE. I'll drink to your health."
"That doesn't really mean anything."
"It does. Now goodnight, CASCADE. I'll drink to your health."
"I'd like you to say hello."
"I'm sure. But I can't." Sweetly. "My job is to be your tether -- not just to the Opera, but to yourself."
"Enjoy it, Mel. Get home safe." (Hang up.)
"You too. Home here -- I mean. Get back safe."
The line disconnects.
"Tell me about the journey. What's the view like."
"Trying to work out where I live, CASCADE?"
"Sounds... boring."
"I don't know about that. As I've gotten older, I've come to value little moments more and more."
A can of Vana Kohila. Horizontal in the bottom of her purse.
"What's for supper?"
"Nothing special. Just my usual."
"Fine, I'll drop it."
"That would be appropriate."
Unmistakable regret in her tone.
Branch
"I want to talk about collectible cups."
"Collectible... cups?"
"You know: Large, plastic, with toppers made on novelty themes."
"I know what a collectible cup is. I'm just struggling to perceive the connection to your assignment."
Having a number of 'side-things' to achieve can help with your overall psychological balance. Small pips of easy pleasure.
"They're from '66 Wolves'. I think they're pretty cool."
"Right. How many of these cups are there?"
"Sixty-six, one per wolf."
"Sixty-six. That's a very large number of cups."
"Again, one per wolf."
"What do you even do with these cups once you've got them?"
Even more daunting than collecting such a set is the task of arranging and displaying it.
"I could line them all up in a row, or in six rows of eleven…"
"You could, then you rarely get to see the ones in the back..."
Unless of course you rotate them regularly.
"It sounds as though you're already beginning to display the symptoms of 'compulsive set collection'. This is interesting, and also concerning."
"It's okay. I'm not really trying to collect all of them, just the six most current ones."
"I suppose that's a reasonable goal, so long as you don't lose sight of your assignment."
IN THE EVENT YOU ARE ZEROED OUT, YOUR BRAIN WILL BE BEQUEATHED TO THE OPERA'S SEMIOTICIANS SO THEY MAY STUDY THE PRECISE CAUSE OF THIS EXTREMELY CONTEMPORARY PSYCHOSIS.
"I suppose that's a reasonable goal, so long as you don't lose sight of your assignment.""Of course. You're an autonomous adult woman. No one can make you do anything you don't want. Except me."Branch 723"As I understand, this is a self-assigned task. Unless you've developed 'compulsive set collection', you…
"Was there anything else?"
Branch
"I can stop any time I want."
"Of course. You're an autonomous adult woman. No one can make you do anything you don't want. Except me."
"Maybe it would be better to distribute them evenly across several rooms..."
"I suppose, but then you're denied the pleasure of seeing the whole set together at once..."
"Actually, safest would be to put them in a storage box and never look at them..."
"What a deeply strange and sad way to think of it, interesting..."
"I haven't decided yet. It will come to me in time."
"Let's hope this isn't the onset of 'compulsive set collection'. You've got a massive assignment ahead, we can't afford too many distractions."
"I'm being very restrained, though. I'm only trying to collect six... to start."
"I just wanted to let you know this stupid thing exists. I'm definitely not going to go around finding more of them." (Lie.)
"That's a relief. I've heard cases of 'compulsive set collection' are on the rise across the Developed World. I'd hate for you to succumb mid-assignment."
Branch
"It's utter madness, Melita. Help."
"As I understand, this is a self-assigned task. Unless you've developed 'compulsive set collection', you could stop anytime."
"Mel, what's the Party Line on the End of History?"
UNIVERSAL
Alternative wording
"Oh dear. Has your time in the Developed World got you looking for a little ideological pick-me-up?"
Alternative wording
"Oh dear. Has your time in the Developed World got you looking for a little ideological pick-me-up?"
Alternative wording
"Oh dear. Has your time in the Developed World got you looking for a little bedtime ideology?"
Alternative wording
"Oh dear. Has your time in the Developed World got you looking for a little bedtime ideology?"
UNIVERSAL
Alternative wording
"I want to start my day off with your words in my ear."
Alternative wording
"I want to walk around all day with your words in my ear."
Alternative wording
"I want to fall asleep with your words in my ear."
Alternative wording
"I want to fall asleep with your words in my ear."
"You are wildly out of line."
UNIVERSAL
Alternative wording
"Put me back in line. I've got all day ahead of me."
Alternative wording
"Put me back in line. The day's still young."
Alternative wording
"Put me back in line. Sing me a post-historical lullaby."
Alternative wording
"Put me back in line. Sing me a post-historical lullaby."
"I suppose the Party Line is that we won. After Latour-Woolgar, the Party declared the task of revolution complete. The mill of history was broken. Good job, everyone!"
"You sound sad about that. Why are you sad, Mel?"
"The people got Perpetual Revolution. It made you want to do stupid and beautiful things." She sighs. "Not even the most brain poisoned young cadre can drop her red panties to 'post-historical materialism'. It's simply not possible."
REACTIONARY NOSTALGIA. THE YOUTH OF THE WORLD CRAVE THE DIALECTIC NOW MORE THAN EVER.
"Is that a hint of reaction I hear from my controller?"
"You may be right. Who knows, if the people really got going they might start asking why all their 'worker-owned cooperatives' have taken on foreign investment, or how come the 'right of expression' hasn't made their movies any less shit."
You hear a thump in the background.
Did she put her feet up on her desk?
"Still, most would say it's a privilege to be given a reprieve from History."
"We should get 'Perpetual Revolution' going again."
"Oh, excellent. Our trusted operant wants millions of people to die for someone's political slogan. The mill needs more bones for grist."
"Also the blood of the rentier class."
"And after that? Once you've liquidated your class enemies and fashioned yourself the True Subject and Object of History, what will occupy you then?"
"Spending more time with friends, like in the old days."
"And after that? Once you've liquidated your class enemies and fashioned yourself the True Subject and Object…"There is no substitute where history's concerned, I'm afraid. What is it you really want?""I'm just voicing an 'alternative perspective', to test your ideological mettle. What is it you really want?""A decadent aesthete, the most devious subclass of fascist. And when you move on from your musical objets…"Right. And when you run out of cultural trifles, what will occupy you then?""And once humanity has been boiled down into primordial gloop, what will your next goal be?""I did, and then you made it. What did you hope to gain from it?""Tolerable, yes. If daily existence doesn't make you want to hurl yourself in front of a commuter train, it…"Yes, well. It's only from the top of the pyramid that one can even contemplate such a thought. What more do…"Yes, well. You chose this particular life, as I recall. What more do you want?""You and nearly 40% of humanity. Bring crampons next time. What are you even scrambling for?"
Branch
"Yes, I suppose it is quite enjoyable to spend time with one's friends…"
She's thinking of her friends, whom she doesn't actually spend that much time with.
"Do you think I can put things back, with the old crew?"
"Things will never be like they were. But that doesn't mean they won't be."
Branch
UNIVERSAL
Alternative wording
"In any event, it's almost time for my evening break. There's probably some other operant somewhere who's gone squishy on their post-historical materialism. Have a good day, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"In any event, it's getting late here. There's probably some other operant somewhere who's gone squishy on their post-historical materialism. Goodnight, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"In any event, it's nearly morning here. There's probably some other operant somewhere who's gone squishy on their post-historical materialism. Speak soon, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"In any event, it's almost time for my lunch break. There's probably some other operant somewhere who's gone squishy on their post-historical materialism. Speak soon, CASCADE."
With that, she rings off.
"Would you want to get together, when this is done?"
"Why don't you get it done, and then we'll see?"
You imagine yourself at a table on the perimeter of a city square, watching her walk towards you. You have a freshly lit cigarette, the waiter is bringing schnapps. Her face is a blur.
"I should probably get going." (Hang up.)
"Right. Me too. Talk to you later, CASCADE."
"That's odd. I didn't think you had much use for 'other people'. I suppose we contain infinitudes after all..."
Branch
The heavy silence that follows signals that this particular engine has run out of steam.
You hear long, comfortable breaths. The sound of her mind wandering elsewhere.
The line's ambient buzz grows louder without her voice to interrupt it.
"I just need to understand, Mel. How it all works, what's really going on."
"And after that? Once you've liquidated your class enemies and fashioned yourself the True Subject and Object…"There is no substitute where history's concerned, I'm afraid. What is it you really want?""I'm just voicing an 'alternative perspective', to test your ideological mettle. What is it you really want?""A decadent aesthete, the most devious subclass of fascist. And when you move on from your musical objets…"Right. And when you run out of cultural trifles, what will occupy you then?""And once humanity has been boiled down into primordial gloop, what will your next goal be?""I did, and then you made it. What did you hope to gain from it?""Tolerable, yes. If daily existence doesn't make you want to hurl yourself in front of a commuter train, it…"Yes, well. It's only from the top of the pyramid that one can even contemplate such a thought. What more do…"Yes, well. You chose this particular life, as I recall. What more do you want?""You and nearly 40% of humanity. Bring crampons next time. What are you even scrambling for?"
Branch
"Ugh, don't give me that conspiratorial stuff. I get enough of that from my..."
You feel very cold all of a sudden.
"... your who?"
"No one."
You feel like your organs have flattened themselves against your spine.
It's fine. We'll scrape them off and put them back. We remember where most of them are supposed to go.
Branch
"It's cool, I'm getting tons of action, in case you were wondering."
"What a revealing reaction. I'll do my best to forget it."
Let it go.
"Anyway."
"Strange, I don't think I would've marked you as mouth-foaming believer. I suppose we contain infinitudes after all..."
Branch
"More time to hone my skills: Spy more, spy harder."
"And after that? Once you've liquidated your class enemies and fashioned yourself the True Subject and Object…"There is no substitute where history's concerned, I'm afraid. What is it you really want?""I'm just voicing an 'alternative perspective', to test your ideological mettle. What is it you really want?""A decadent aesthete, the most devious subclass of fascist. And when you move on from your musical objets…"Right. And when you run out of cultural trifles, what will occupy you then?""And once humanity has been boiled down into primordial gloop, what will your next goal be?""I did, and then you made it. What did you hope to gain from it?""Tolerable, yes. If daily existence doesn't make you want to hurl yourself in front of a commuter train, it…"Yes, well. It's only from the top of the pyramid that one can even contemplate such a thought. What more do…"Yes, well. You chose this particular life, as I recall. What more do you want?""You and nearly 40% of humanity. Bring crampons next time. What are you even scrambling for?"
Branch
"Not everything needs to connect back to work."
Except that's the only reason she talks to you.
"Isn't that what we're here for?"
"It's why we're here. It doesn't need to be why we stay."
Branch
"This is all I have, Mel."
"I know. You should do something about that."
"Right. Should get back to moral philosophies and boardgames."
"The more complicated and internally coherent, the better."
"I should probably get going." (Hang up.)
Branch
"Strange, I wouldn't have described you as the 'go hard, get hard' type. I suppose we contain infinitudes after all..."
Branch
"Wants, occupations... these are the things I'm trying to let go of."
"And after that? Once you've liquidated your class enemies and fashioned yourself the True Subject and Object…"There is no substitute where history's concerned, I'm afraid. What is it you really want?""I'm just voicing an 'alternative perspective', to test your ideological mettle. What is it you really want?""A decadent aesthete, the most devious subclass of fascist. And when you move on from your musical objets…"Right. And when you run out of cultural trifles, what will occupy you then?""And once humanity has been boiled down into primordial gloop, what will your next goal be?""I did, and then you made it. What did you hope to gain from it?""Tolerable, yes. If daily existence doesn't make you want to hurl yourself in front of a commuter train, it…"Yes, well. It's only from the top of the pyramid that one can even contemplate such a thought. What more do…"Yes, well. You chose this particular life, as I recall. What more do you want?""You and nearly 40% of humanity. Bring crampons next time. What are you even scrambling for?"
Branch
"Perhaps when this is over, you can spend some time meditating in Prophet's Rest. I hear the spas there are lovely."
"Would you want to come with?"
"I'm far too grounded. I'm exactly the sort of thing you should be trying to let go of."
You imagine steam rising from her naked shoulders as she settles into the hot spring beside you. The stars are shining, there's snow on the ground. Her face is a blur.
Branch
"Rest. Yeah, that's what I need."
"Yes. I can hear it in your voice."
"I should probably get going." (Hang up.)
Branch
"That's odd. I didn't think you were one for detached reflection. I suppose we contain infinitudes after all..."
"Not that many bones. Just a few. Or maybe some artificial bone-substitutes."
"There is no substitute where history's concerned, I'm afraid. What is it you really want?"
"That makes it sound much less fun."
"I'm just voicing an 'alternative perspective', to test your ideological mettle. What is it you really want?"
"We're done as a species. We need to be melted down, purified, remade into something future-oriented."
"Oh, excellent. Our trusted operant has gone techno-fascist. Next thing I know you're going to tell me you've gotten hard into L-Pop."
"I appreciate the music for its own sake. I don't need to subscribe to the ideology that produced it."
"A decadent aesthete, the most devious subclass of fascist. And when you move on from your musical objets d'art, what will occupy you then?"
"I'm more of a '66 Wolves' girl, as it happens."
"Right. And when you run out of cultural trifles, what will occupy you then?"
"No pop culture for me, just apocalyptic futurism."
"And once humanity has been boiled down into primordial gloop, what will your next goal be?"
"You're right, maybe a reprieve is really the best we can do."
"Oh, excellent. Our trusted operant has become a liberal internationalist. Next thing I know you're going to tell me you've taken up with the Bank."
"You told me to make that deal!"
"I did, and then you made it. What did you hope to gain from it?"
"No, no. I've just come to feel this really is the most tolerable reality, whatever its problems."
"Tolerable, yes. If daily existence doesn't make you want to hurl yourself in front of a commuter train, it can't be that bad. What more could you want?"
"I think you're just messing with me, Mel."
Branch
"What kind of privilege is it?"
"A chance to scramble up the pyramid of needs? Have a go at self-actualisation, develop creative pursuits, hobbies, moral philosophies, complex board games, that sort of thing."
"There's got to be more to life than moral philosophy and boardgames."
"Yes, well. It's only from the top of the pyramid that one can even contemplate such a thought. What more do you want?"
"I wish I were self-actualising right now."
"Yes, well. You chose this particular life, as I recall. What more do you want?"
"The pyramid is very slippery. I'm still working on basic needs."
"You and nearly 40% of humanity. Bring crampons next time. What are you even scrambling for?"
"The End of History is a bad joke. No one's laughing anymore."
"In other circumstances, I might agree. Yet here we are. Most think it's a privilege to be given a reprieve from History."
"So what now?"
"That is the question, isn't it? We've been given a century-long reprieve from History. Only natural then for people to turn inward. I wonder do they appreciate what a great privilege that is."
(Yawn.) "And what came next?"
"Since then the new Party Line has been 'post-historical materialism', which just doesn't get the people going the same way."
"I'm turning liberal as we speak, only you can save me."
"You'll know it's terminal once you start smiling at police officers. But fine, let's review..."
"I missed this part of my reeducation."
Alternative wording
"Reeducate me, spy mummy."
"What if the techno-fascists are the only ones with a vision for the future?"
"Strictly speaking, 'the future' is a revisionist construct. Let us review..."
"Was Operant PROBABLE ever assigned to Portofiro?"
"I'd have to check the records. Why the sudden interest?"
PROBABLE's service history is required reading for controllers. She's stalling you.
"I'm seeing full-body ectoplasmic manifestations, Mel."
"And where are you seeing this, precisely...?"
Pen at the ready, considering how she'll phrase the emergency extraction order.
'Finally lost it'? Or maybe the more diplomatic but equally damning 'Operant withdrawn for symptoms of clinical exhaustion'.
"I'm not going crazy, Mel."
"Of course you're not. But the location...?"
"At the Palace of Culture."
"Ah." You hear as she sets her pen down. "I see. Yes, the International Party Conference was held in Portofiro in 66 -- for the first and last time a non-Superbloc state was allowed to host. PROBABLE was in attendance."
Branch
"Why the first time?"
"Nestor began his career on the promise of 'full communism' for Portofiro. He was desperate to join the Superbloc -- the Party was seriously entertaining his request."
Branch
"Why the last time?"
"It was determined that Portofiro wasn't yet 'ideologically prepared' to join the Superbloc. Nestor did not handle the rejection well. Needless to say, the gun was jumped."
"And what was PROBABLE doing there?" (Proceed.)
"Director Twitchitov requested that he tag along with the ambassador's personal security force."
There is a zero percent possibility that PROBABLE, statistically the Opera's most valuable performer in 66, was here on babysitter duty.
"Above my level, I would guess?"
"I'm afraid so, CASCADE."
"Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"
Branch
"That's it? He was on babysitting duty?"
"At the director's request."
Something she can't just tell you, but she's assuming you can put it together on your own.
PROBABLE was the Operant Bureau's most valuable performer in 66. His true assignment must have been a high-level hold.
(Whisper.) "Were they... you know...?"
"If the rest of that question would potentially disparage the reputations of Operant PROBABLE and Director Twitchitov, I'd suggest you consider not asking it aloud and on the magic box."
"More specifically, did he attend the All-Party Conference in 66?"
"Ah. Yes, PROBABLE was an attendee. That was the first and last time a non-Superbloc state was allowed to host the Conference."
"It's nothing important, I was just curious." (Lie.)
"Alright." Unconvinced. "Anything else you'd like to report?"
Branch
"I found a bomb in the Palace of Culture."
"Please reassure me that you're not about to file an expense report for prosthetic limb reimbursement."
Branch
"My limbs are intact, thanks. The bomb's inert."
"'Limbs intact'..." Pencil scratches against the paper of her notepad. "Got it."
Branch
"What's it doing there? Thirty years old, undetonated, just hanging out in Nestor's old office."
"If the Opera has any information on this, I have to assume it's close-hold. But it sounds like the sort of lucky find that could be a useful point of inspiration to an individual."
"Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"
Branch
"Did the Superbloc try to blow up Sweet Nestor during treaty negotiations?"
"... What makes you think that?"
Chewing the inside of her cheek.
"The place is a monument to failure. It stinks of shame."
"I'm sure I'll regret asking, but: what does shame smell like, exactly?"
"Cordite and ozone."
"Hmm."
Your smell, she thinks.
"But I assume you're referring to the 'Superbloc, Baby' incident? Yes, that was one of ours."
Branch
"I'm going to have that song stuck in my head now, just so you know."
"I don't see the problem, it's a classic." She hums the first few notes, distorted but familiar down the phone line.
Branch
"What's 'Superbloc, Baby'?"
"By the False Midnights? It was huge in the People's Republics back in the day. You'd know it if you heard it."
A forgotten beast, hibernating in your hippocampus stirs, raises its head and snorts.
"Remind me how it goes?"
"Absolutely not." But she hums the first few notes, distorted down the phone line.
Distantly familiar.
"Eh, maybe..."
"Look it up. It's a classic."
"Not likely. I'm basically tone deaf."
"Tragic, for you."
"Canal water, dust mites, and just a hint of piss."
"Fear sweat."
"Because it's what I would have done."
"Very good."
"If there's a vast conspiracy to assassinate a major global political figure, I always assume we're involved. Somehow."
"Hardly vast."
"Logical interrogation of the evidence."
"You know, when you say 'interrogation', I'm never sure if you mean that figuratively or if I need to be concerned that you're committing war crimes on inanimate objects."
"I saw PROBABLE. PROBABLE had a package -- package was bomb. It doesn't take a genius, Mel."
"Lucky for you."
She can be as sarcastic as she wants, doesn't change the fact that we're mega hot when we're being all deductive.
"So what happened?"
"On the opening night of the Conference, Nestor was supposed to host the overseas premiere for 'Superbloc, Baby'. Sort of a soft-induction via cultural exchange, the Party was very big on that sort of thing in the 60s."
"PROBABLE asked a woman who we knew would be attending the party, in close proximity to the host, to deliver a special gift."
"The special gift in question being a bomb."
"A bomb with an audio-trigger: when the first chorus hit, anything within a ten-meter radius of that package would have been turned inside-out."
Bodies incinerated before nerves had time to deliver their message of pain to the brain.
"But negotiations broke down and Nestor cancelled the party. No party, no song, no song, no bomb."
"Yes bomb; no boom-boom."
"Undetonated after thirty years, and now back in the Opera's hands. A bit poetic, don't you think?" She clicks her tongue.
"Shame that negotiations broke down. It would have given us a strategic foothold in the region, and it might've kept Portofiro out of EMTERR's money talons..."
"Sounds like there was a second, greater conspiracy working against us."
"Maybe. Maybe Nestor was tipped off -- or maybe PROBABLE was just unlucky. It happens, as you're aware."
Branch
"Did PROBABLE get shelved for that?"
"PROBABLE had made himself shelf-proof long before this. He was not held responsible for the plot's failure."
"So, Portofiro was almost part of the Superbloc?"
"Almost." She clicks her tongue. "Had it worked out, it would have given us a strategic foothold in the region, and it might've kept Portofiro out of EMTERR's money talons..."
"If the plan was for Portofiro to join the Superbloc, then why did we want to zero out Nestor?"
"With Nestor at the helm, Portofiro would always have held itself apart from the rest of the Superbloc. Unacceptable for a member-state." She clicks her tongue.
"We were just going to let an innocent woman get vaporised?"
"The bomb had an audio trigger, and by the first verse, anything within a ten-meter radius of that package would have been turned inside-out. She wouldn't have felt a thing."
Her body incinerated before the nerves had time to deliver their message of pain to her brain.
"Have we considered inviting the Lich to a listening party?" (Conclude.)
"Unfortunately, the Luzians are far less willing to enter negotiations with the Superbloc than Nestor was back in the day. But perhaps you can use this as a point of inspiration."
"Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"
Branch
"Did the Superbloc try to blow up Sweet Nestor during treaty negotiations?"
"What do you know about the man with no heart?"
Alternative wording
"What do you know about 'Hauzmann'?"
"I don't know who you're referring to."
"Come on, Mel. Old man. Ugly shirt. Box for a heart."
"I don't know anyone by that description. There's certainly no record of him in the remembrancers' archives. Meaning that, as far as I'm concerned, he doesn't exist at all..."
"... which isn't the to say he couldn't be useful to you."
Something in her tone makes you imagine her winking at you.
Branch
"He helped me find the EMTERR jail."
"So you have yourself a magic spell. Careful how you use it, one wrong word and you've cursed yourself instead."
'Null entities' are the lowest forms of matter in the Operant Bureau's extended cosmology. Reserved for traitors, falsifiers, and thieves.
Branch
"He got me out of that EMTERR jail."
"He's asked me to go digging for old space lore on the Pitol Tract."
"Strange of you to perform errands on account of nobody. There must be some information in it for you?"
The magic box may be monitored. Perhaps your controller's being recorded for training and political reliability purposes.
"He has sources in Luz, he's willing to trade for information about the Lich's arrival."
"Careful on the silo stairs. I'm assuming that's where they keep the good lore."
You hear her flip a notebook closed with a satisfying snap. That's the closest you're going to get to 'well done' on this one.
Branch
"I'm mainly here for the mysterious space stuff."
"On the contrary: You're here to fulfil the assignment. Do not become distracted by the promise of cosmic mystery."
You are a cosmic mystery. Get up there, into the void. You could be the first to expose it as a fraud.
"He knows a lot of stuff, Mel. He's been very helpful."
"An imaginary friend who's actually useful, wish I had one of those."
OPPOSE SENTIMENTAL FIGMENTS INCOMPATIBLE WITH A MATERIALIST WORLDVIEW.
Branch
"Be straight. Did he reach out about me?" (Conclude.)
"Did who reach out, operant?"
The window rattles. Some night-bound animal scratches at the door.
"Hauzmann."
"Oh, you're still talking about the imaginary man. Sorry, thought we'd moved on."
"Come on, Mel."
"Yes?"
You're not getting through her. She's way better at this than you.
Branch
"Fine, forget it." (Back.)
"There's nothing to forget." You detect a slight smile on the other side of the phone. "Now, what else is on your mind?"
Branch
"The null entity."
"Did a nonexistent being reach out to me on your behalf? That's what you're asking?"
"The man with no heart."
"He says he's a 'null entity'. Used to work for the Opera."
"If he is, and if he did, then there won't be any record of him in the remembrancers' archives. Meaning that, as far as I'm concerned, he doesn't exist at all..."
"Do you know anything about Project AUTONOMÍA, the old space program?"
"I know it failed. I know it nearly tanked Portofiro's economy and sent Nestor packing for the last time. Why the interest?"
Why the interest in space? Look at it! What's it doing up there? What if it's just a big painting?
Branch
"Seems to still be on people's minds."
"Is that surprising? Project AUTONOMÍA was a big deal: Portofiro was meant to join the first rung of nations. It was going to become a scientific and engineering power. Plus it was going to really stick it to their old Luzian colonisers. Instead..."
A woman glides upside down, chanting. The sun revolves outside the window.
"It didn't happen."
"No. None of those things happened."
Branch
"Boom-boom."
"Yes. Boom-boom."
"Do you think there could be more to it?"
"How do you mean more?"
"It seems like this place can't escape the pull of its own failures. It marinates in them."
"Are we really talking about Portofiro, operant?"
You can marinate in failure way better than any 'city-state'. You can twist dive into it.
"What? Yes, totally."
"Okay. Just checking."
"Most people can't handle the thought of their own failures. They bottle them up, or submerge themselves in them, or blame transnational capital, or simply run away from them. Why should nations be any different?"
Branch
"Who else would we be talking about?"
"No one at all. Forget I said anything."
"Fine. I see your point."
"What if we have it all backward? What if the launch wasn't meant to succeed?"
"You're saying instead of a failure, it was actually... a success?"
Intense skepticism. She's worried you're developing a logical framework to apply to your own assignment.
"Yes! Maybe it was meant to fail all along."
"I'm having trouble following your logic, operant. Who meant it to fail?"
"EMTERR."
"You mean the Bank blew up their own investment. Seems... unlikely."
Despite her protest, you hear her making a note.
"You mean the Bank blew up their own investment. Seems... unlikely.""You mean the Supreme Leader of Portofiro blew up his own prestige project. Seems... dubious.""Listen, CASCADE, I love a good cabal as much as the next controller, but I just don't see it.""The stars have never really interested me. I'm a very grounded-type girl, at the end of the day."
Could say anything, though. 'Unauthorised speculating' or suchlike.
Branch
"Nestor."
"You mean the Supreme Leader of Portofiro blew up his own prestige project. Seems... dubious."
"A cabal of as-yet unidentified business interests."
"Listen, CASCADE, I love a good cabal as much as the next controller, but I just don't see it."
"The stars themselves."
"The stars have never really interested me. I'm a very grounded-type girl, at the end of the day."
"Doesn't the idea of a city-state having its own space program feel strange?"
"Maybe on its face. But then, those were boom years. Credit was cheap, Nestor was in his decadent phase -- why not blow hundreds of millions of sol on a prestige play?"
Branch
"I'm just asking questions. That's all."
"Questions. Of course. We love questions. Perhaps you have some others?"
Branch
"The man with no heart is very interested in it."
Alternative wording
"Hauzmann. He's very interested in it."
"Naturally I have any idea who or what you're referring to, and yet it seems this is weighing on your mind."
"That's all. Just curious." (Back.)
"I'd say best to keep your attention earthbound, where your assignment is."
Branch
"Thanks, Mel." (Hang up.)
"Luck and skill, operant."
"There is no 'untying', the knot only grows more tangled with each development."
Branch
"Perhaps you should find a pair of shears then. Now, what's on your mind?"
Branch
"Don't tell me how to do my job."
Branch
"Then show me some results. Now, what's on your mind?"
"We're all prisoners of our own wants. That's the real knot, Melita."
Branch
"I once saw some cross-stitching in an old woman's bathroom that made a similar argument. Now, what's on your mind?"
"Positive. She's moved up in the world."
"Life's full of surprises."
"Haven't had a chance, been in the middle of some stuff."
"Stuff. What kind of stuff?"
Branch
"Collecting wolf cups, as we discussed."
Branch
"It's really impressive that you've found time for all these hobbies, given the relentless demands of our work."
Voice level and dry as a salt flat.
Branch
Voice level and dry as a salt flat.The 'concerning' part is how incomplete our set remains.A matter of interest for the psychomancers, perhaps."I see. Too bad we're not running a charity for leering pensioners.""Interesting, though I'm struggling to see what this professional dispute has to do with your assignment."The view was tremendous, best in the district. Well worth the climb."Just a reminder that you're meant to be forming a plot to zero out the Grand Lich, not raising class…"But enough about my girlhood memories, I'm more interested in what you've been doing.""Ah, a hobby. I wish I had time for those."No aesthetic sense at all."Operant, we're meant to defend the working classes, not become them."
"Right, still in the grip of cup mania. That's a little concerning."
The 'concerning' part is how incomplete our set remains.
"I've been running errands for some filthy old pilots."
Branch
"Hmmm. I detect a theme of unsavoury male behaviour in your choice of side things."
A matter of interest for the psychomancers, perhaps.
"I see. Too bad we're not running a charity for leering pensioners."
"I've become embroiled in a spat over a missing medical dummy."
Branch
Branch
"Interesting, though I'm struggling to see what this professional dispute has to do with your assignment."
"There was a potential creep on a pylon."
Branch
Branch
"Very 'pro-social' of you. Also completely disconnected from your task, as far as I can tell."
The view was tremendous, best in the district. Well worth the climb.
"The local youth need some help understanding basic economics."
"Just a reminder that you're meant to be forming a plot to zero out the Grand Lich, not raising class consciousness."
"I'm helping a rich person with their model train."
"Oh? There used to be a model train shop in old town Novessa. I enjoyed looking at the miniatures with my father through the window."
Spring morning. The girl tugs her father's hand. She presses her nose against the cool glass. A double-deck commuter train, 1/160 scale, rattles across a miniature country scene.
"But enough about my girlhood memories, I'm more interested in what you've been doing."
"I've gotten into photography, nothing unseemly."
Branch
Branch
"Ah, a hobby. I wish I had time for those."
"Decorating my room."
Branch
Branch
"That's nice."
No aesthetic sense at all.
"Found myself some part-time work."
"Operant, we're meant to defend the working classes, not become them."
"Spy stuff. Get off my back."
"Then I look forward to receiving lots of high-grade espionage in the near future."
Just a little, for fun.
Branch
"Speak with ESTOC. Find out what they want for the prisoner. That's the first step to untying this knot."
"You're right. Sorry, Mel."
"Time to focus. Now, what's on your mind?"
"There is no 'untying', the knot only grows more tangled with each development."
"Don't tell me how to do my job."
"We're all prisoners of our own wants, Melita. That's the real knot."
"Meet with the Head of Human Capital. Find out what they want for the prisoner. That's the first step to untying this knot."
"That's basically everything."
"Hmm. Full plate, it sounds like. Still, I think you could slip in a little espionage every now and then."
"Fine. I'll get on it."
"I was just wondering, have you had any luck locating the Head of Human Capital?"
Branch
Branch
Raw information atomises itself. On the other side of the world, a phone rings.
"CASCADE?"
Raw information atomises itself. On the other side of the world, a phone rings.
Branch
And rings... and rings... and rings...
But no one answers. The phone keeps ringing.
Wait.
The ringing continues.
A siren circling your skull.
Neurons light up along your spine, flickering erratically.
Branch
Glance at the magic box.
Three diodes flicker in steady succession, over and over, casting a faint pulse along the wall.
The line is operational. You can rule out a technical problem.
Branch
Thing's probably got ghosts in it, spooking up the wires.
Keep waiting.
The ringing continues, eternal.
Branch
Where is she?
Anywhere but on the other end of the line.
Branch
"Shit." [Hang up.]
Downstairs, you hear the sound of Constanz moving about.
Hang up.
The receiver slams into its cradle with a faint, continuous chime.
Branch
Branch
Branch
You dial your controller's number. The phone buzzes. After several rings, someone picks up.
"You should be heading out by now. What is it?"
"I found a cipher among PSEUDOPOD's things. A message. 'FOR CASCADE ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN'.
"How did you find that?"
"Your hot new operant left one half in his cigarettes and the other in his pants."
"Appalling stagecraft, my god."
Branch
"The tram, operant. Get moving."
The line goes dead.
"Mega spy intuitions."
"Fine, play it that way if you want."
"See? I've got this. Let's get back to it."
"I'm not changing my mind, CASCADE."
"You're right. Sorry."
"I just wanted to hear your voice again."
"Now you've heard it. Get moving, operant."
"Just testing the line."
"It works. Get moving, operant."
You pick up the phone. The handset vibrates in your palm.
"Hello?"
Before you even finish speaking the word, the device connected to your phone base splits it into 256,000 encrypted fragments.
The exquisite work of the 'magic box', one of the proudest achievements of the Opera's Technical Services Office.
Half a world away, a familiar voice splits into a corresponding number of fragments before coalescing again by your ear.
"Please tell me you have good news."
THE VOICE OF AUTHORITY.
Don't let her down -- become the operant she needs you to be.
"First off, I didn't do it."
"Operant CASCADE. You made it." Her tone changes, instantly more familiar. "Your voice hasn't changed."
And her voice is just as you remember.
"Operant CASCADE. You made it." Her tone changes, instantly more familiar. "Your voice hasn't changed.""Operant, you made it." Her tone changes, instantly more familiar. "Your voice hasn't changed.""Operant CASCADE. You made it." Her tone changes, instantly more familiar. "You're doing something to your…
Branch
(Keep it up.) "Why didn't you tell me CASCADE was such a cool spy?"
Alternative wording
(Keep it up.) "I was just thinking... CASCADE really ought to be lead, don't you agree?"
"Enough fooling around. Put PSEUDOPOD on the line."
Branch
You glance over at the man facedown on the floor.
This is wrong. You shouldn't be here. This should be happening to someone else.
It takes all your concentration to keep the receiver steady against your ear.
Branch
"I don't think the cord will reach that far."
"What do you mean, why not?"
"I looked in his eyes and saw an empty room. There were no spies inside."
"That's a very disturbing thing to say, CASCADE."
For a moment, no one says anything. There's no sound at all save for the blood in your ear and the electrostatic hum of the ultra-long-distance connection.
"That's a very disturbing thing to say, CASCADE.""You're saying -- what? That someone else has been in your safehouse?""No, I don't believe that. He was rated 'minimal-risk'...""Look, forget PSEUDOPOD. It's all me now.""Something's very wrong with him. He's breathing, but nonresponsive. More than that I can't say."
"Has he been zeroed out?"
Eliminated. Killed. Rendered inoperant.
Heavy words. Words that set machinery in motion.
Branch
"I found a card for a phone line in his pocket, but there's no number on it."
"That doesn't tell us much..." She appears to make a note. "What else?"
Branch
"There was a blank disc in the music player."
"Very odd. Why would he be listening to a blank disc?"
"There was something very mysterious about it, not entirely human."
"Probably a manufacturing defect. I don't see how a disc could have anything to do with PSEUDOPOD's condition."
Branch
"No idea."
"Me neither. So we're still grasping in the dark."
"Probably some variety of psychopath."
"He's one of the most steady hands we've got. What else?"
"You know what's strange? I found a one-time key in his trousers."
"A key is worthless without the ciphertext that goes with it."
Branch
"I found that too, on the desk."
"And... did you manage to decode it?"
"It's a message. It says 'FOR CASCADE ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN'."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Branch
"I'll ask one more time. Is your double zeroed out?"
You must speak the word. She cannot make the determination herself.
Five-thousand kilometres away, in a small office deep underground, a mid-level controller of the Operant Bureau leans forward and cups a hand over her earpiece.
Once you say it, there's no going back. The momentum of events will overtake you.
"He might still be in there somewhere."
"CASCADE. Is your double zeroed out, or not?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Is he zeroed out, operant?"
"Yes."
"Right."
"I wonder which it is... have our enemies blown us up already? Or is this just another day at the basement massage parlour of spy services? Fucking hell..."
She's wondering how long till she can have a drink. Treacly liqueur from a can. It's been several hours since her last.
"The Opera's going to hang me by the toes. For you it's back to Satellite Facility B."
Branch
Archives. Mountains of paper. Shiver. Resist.
"Whoa, hold on. I just got in, give me a chance here."
"Get real, CASCADE. This isn't your personal redemption tour. You haven't even got the assignment."
"I tried -- PSEUDOPOD wouldn't give it to me!"
"Get real, CASCADE. This isn't your personal redemption tour. You haven't even got the assignment.""That's exactly the problem, you haven't got PSEUDOPOD and you haven't got the assignment, either.""Spy how? You haven't even got the assignment.""Is that your way of telling me to fuck off? You haven't even got the assigment."
"Listen to me. This assignment is over, effective immediately."
Over, immediately. The words ricochet inside your skull.
"The woman in the photo shop downstairs -- Constanz -- she's one of ours. Let her deal with PSEUDOPOD."
"The photo lady, right. What should I tell her?"
"Do not tell her anything she doesn't need to know."
"As for you, we need to get you on the next aero-tram out of the city."
Disregard. Time for some self-directed espionage.
Branch
You already have your task. You need only commit to it.
Branch
You already have your task. You need only commit to it.Branch 1243Branch 1246Branch 1251The ciphertext. You have the pieces, you just need to put them together.Something about the strange red disc nags at the edge of your consciousness. Perhaps the room contains other…That numberless phone line may be worth investigating. Perhaps the room contains other leads as well.The room remains to be searched. There may be leads to follow up on.
"You don't really expect me to leave my double like this, do you?"
"Let the photo lady deal with him. Your concern is getting out of Portofiro -- understand?"
Negative. Gäng want spy.
REACTIONARY PESSIMISM. THE PEOPLE'S SPY IS INDOMINABLE.
Branch
"Mel. Don't do this to me."
"Cut the 'Mel' stuff. We're talking about work now."
Branch
"I found a cipher among PSEUDOPOD's things. A message. 'FOR CASCADE ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN'.
"How did you find that?"
"Your hot new operant left one half in his cigarettes and the other in his pants."
"Appalling stagecraft, my god."
Branch
"Mega spy intuitions."
"Fine, play it that way if you want."
"See? I've got this. Let's get back to it."
"I'm not changing my mind, CASCADE."
Deduce why the Opera sent you.
You've been on filing duty for five years. Out of action. The Opera wouldn't rush you back in-theatre, unless:
"One of the Whole Sick Crew reached out."
A half moment's hesitation.
"Where'd you get that idea?"
Not a denial. Proceed.
"They asked for me specifically, didn't they?"
Alternative wording
"The message. 'ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN'. It can only be one of my old assets."
"There should still be flights departing for Superbloc territory tonight. Make sure you're on one of them."
"They asked for me specifically, didn't they?""They must've offered something mega intriguing for you to send me all the way here.""Fine, play it that way if you want.""You want me to think I've let everyone down again, when actually I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to.""The secret message is about me, isn't it?""I have a feeling you've been paid off.""Okay, I believe you. Maybe."
"What's it mean -- 'ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN'?"
"Sounds like a dispatch from La-La-Land. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"No. I'm not going."
"Sounds like a dispatch from La-La-Land. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""That's a directive, operant. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""It was no one, a ghost in the wire. The assignment's over. Get on the next tram.""That's great, because you're not actually supposed to do anything. This assignment is over. Get on the next…"I'm not responding to that. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""There's no budget approved for any 'mixtapes'. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"Then you're going to end up like PSEUDOPOD. Zeroed out. Your choice."
A click, and the line goes dead.
"The tram, sure. On my way."
"Sounds like a dispatch from La-La-Land. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""That's a directive, operant. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""It was no one, a ghost in the wire. The assignment's over. Get on the next tram.""That's great, because you're not actually supposed to do anything. This assignment is over. Get on the next…"I'm not responding to that. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""There's no budget approved for any 'mixtapes'. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"If what you're saying is true, enemies abound. Don't get yourself zeroed out."
"Fuck this." (Hang up.)
"Sounds like a dispatch from La-La-Land. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""That's a directive, operant. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""It was no one, a ghost in the wire. The assignment's over. Get on the next tram.""That's great, because you're not actually supposed to do anything. This assignment is over. Get on the next…"I'm not responding to that. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram.""There's no budget approved for any 'mixtapes'. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"Just give me a day or two. That's all I need."
"That's a directive, operant. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"Who was it, Mel?"
"It was no one, a ghost in the wire. The assignment's over. Get on the next tram."
"You can't make me do anything."
"It's sick, Mel. I refuse to play along."
"That's great, because you're not actually supposed to do anything. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"It's sick, Mel. I'm getting turned on."
"I'm not responding to that. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"Get ready, Mel. This mixtape's gonna be a panty dropper."
"There's no budget approved for any 'mixtapes'. This assignment is over. Get on the next tram."
"They must've offered something mega intriguing for you to send me all the way here."
"Whipped it out my ass, spy-like."
"Fine, play it that way if you want."
No way things have gone this bad this quickly. There's only one possible explanation:
"Mel. Is this... some kind of simulation?"
"Simulation. That's a new one."
Precisely what the facilitator of a simulation would be required to say.
"That's what it is, isn't it? A fucked up diorama for your little fantasies."
"What you're describing is utterly deluded, I can't even imagine how you think that's supposed to work."
"The whole 'catatonic double' concept: very original. Fair play."
"This must be some kind of maladapted trauma response."
"You want me to think I've let everyone down again, when actually I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to."
"The secret message is about me, isn't it?"
"I have a feeling you've been paid off."
"Okay, I believe you. Maybe."
"All these secret codes and so on, this is a refresher course."
Alternative wording
"I found your cipher. Is this remedial cryptography?"
Alternative wording
"I found your one-time key. Is this remedial cryptography?"
Alternative wording
"Your basic Rezeda ciphers can't fool me."
"The blank disc. You want me to make you a mixtape from my adventures -- this is a prestige challenge."
"I've never asked you for any such thing."
"You wanted me to eat the ancient hard candy. That was a plant."
"Those words form a grammatical sentence and yet I have no idea what they mean."
"What if I refuse?"
Branch
Branch
The ciphertext. You have the pieces, you just need to put them together.
Branch
Branch
Something about the strange red disc nags at the edge of your consciousness. Perhaps the room contains other leads as well.
That numberless phone line may be worth investigating. Perhaps the room contains other leads as well.
The room remains to be searched. There may be leads to follow up on.
Even as your controller is speaking, your mind is settling back into familiar grooves. The old mechanisms slide and click into position.
"Cool, she can sub in. The assignment, let's go!"
"What about me?"
"I'm working on it -- I just need to put the cipher together."
"Get real, CASCADE. This isn't your personal redemption tour. You haven't even got the assignment.""That's exactly the problem, you haven't got PSEUDOPOD and you haven't got the assignment, either.""Spy how? You haven't even got the assignment.""Is that your way of telling me to fuck off? You haven't even got the assigment."
"Melita, my double's been zeroed out. Something's very wrong here."
"Get real, CASCADE. This isn't your personal redemption tour. You haven't even got the assignment.""That's exactly the problem, you haven't got PSEUDOPOD and you haven't got the assignment, either.""Spy how? You haven't even got the assignment.""Is that your way of telling me to fuck off? You haven't even got the assigment."
"Fuck that, why don't you tell me the assignment?!"
"Get real, CASCADE. This isn't your personal redemption tour. You haven't even got the assignment.""That's exactly the problem, you haven't got PSEUDOPOD and you haven't got the assignment, either.""Spy how? You haven't even got the assignment.""Is that your way of telling me to fuck off? You haven't even got the assigment."
"So... what now?"
Archives. Mountains of paper. Shiver. Resist."Get real, CASCADE. This isn't your personal redemption tour. You haven't even got the assignment.""That's exactly the problem, you haven't got PSEUDOPOD and you haven't got the assignment, either.""Spy how? You haven't even got the assignment.""Is that your way of telling me to fuck off? You haven't even got the assigment."
"Listen, Mel. Whatever this is, it's way bigger than me and PSEUDOPOD."
"That's exactly the problem, you haven't got PSEUDOPOD and you haven't got the assignment, either."
"Forget that. Spy more, spy harder."
"Spy how? You haven't even got the assignment."
"Whatever happens, has already happened."
"Is that your way of telling me to fuck off? You haven't even got the assigment."
A.k.a. 'The Freezer'. The Opera's labyrinthine archival complex. Where the old, useless, and discredited are consigned until they're dismissed or die of despair.
"Not yet."
"It's basic substitution."
"I haven't found the key."
"In other words, you've got nothing."
Branch
"I found a pack of Suprema 100s in the kitchen."
"He's from the People's Republics, of course he smokes Supremas."
Branch
"It wasn't just cigarettes. There was a ciphertext hidden inside."
Branch
"There was a purchase order in his jacket pocket -- for a bunch of socks."
"So what? Your cover was meant to be sock importers."
"It was only for ten socks, Mel. Five pair. That's weird, isn't it?"
"Excuse me, why the fuck are we talking about socks?"
"I'm saying these were a pity purchase."
"'Pity purchase', is that some sort of joke?"
Branch
"I'm saying PSEUDOPOD may've been practicing 'method espionage'."
"'Method espionage', is that some sort of joke?"
"I have no idea. I just don't have anything else to go on."
Branch
"We're not getting anywhere with this."
Branch
"He was also wearing three pair himself."
"Okay, that is strange, but I don't see what it's got to do with his condition."
"He's not wearing any pants. I don't know if that's related."
"Are you implying that he succumbed to some kind of...?"
REACTIONARY MISADVENTURE.
Auto-erotic obliteration.
Tsunami of self-love.
"I'm saying he tugged himself right off the living plane. That's my theory."
"That's not a theory, it's a bad joke."
"That might be more reassuring than the alternatives."
"I'm not reassured in the slightest."
"I have no idea."
"It's fine, I've got it. I just need a little time."
"I have no idea. He was like this when I came in."
"It looks like someone dumped him in a heap on the floor. I'm still trying to figure out who."
"You're saying -- what? That someone else has been in your safehouse?"
"I think PSEUDOPOD tried to kill himself."
"No, I don't believe that. He was rated 'minimal-risk'..."
"Look, forget PSEUDOPOD. It's all me now."
"Something's very wrong with him. He's breathing, but nonresponsive. More than that I can't say."
"Sure, sure. One second." (Drop your voice again.) "Hi, Melita. PSEUDOPOD here. What's up?"
"CASCADE. Put PSEUDOPOD on. The real PSEUDOPOD. Now."
Branch
You feel the receiver slipping from your sweaty palm.
You glance over at the man in the chair.
(Keep it up.) "Remind me, what's our assignment again?"
(Stop doing the voice.) "That was a test. I wanted to see if you still recognised me."
"I'm glad I passed. Put PSEUDOPOD on the line."
Branch
"We'll get to your 'problem' in a moment. Put PSEUDOPOD on the line."
"We'll get to catch-ups later. Put PSEUDOPOD on the line."
"This is CASCADE."
"Operant, you made it." Her tone changes, instantly more familiar. "Your voice hasn't changed."
"It's me, it's Hershel. I'm here."
"I don't have news -- I have a problem."
(Drop your voice.) "Oh, hi Melita. This is PSEUDOPOD speaking."
"Operant CASCADE. You made it." Her tone changes, instantly more familiar. "You're doing something to your voice."
Five years, three months, ten days. That's how long it's been since her voice was in your ear.
Say nothing.
A peculiar species of static washes over your ear.
The exquisite work of the 'magic box', one of the proudest achievements of the Opera's Technical Services Office.
Half a world away, a familiar voice splits into 256,000 encrypted fragments before coalescing again by your ear.