"As I suspected, my sources were very pleased with your work. Well done, Hershel. It's an honour to work with you again."

"As I suspected, my sources were very pleased with your work. Well done, Hershel. It's an honour to work with you again."

"What's going to happen to the carabinero?"

"Forget about him, Hershel. A total dead man. Probably going to have to zero him out myself."

"Seems drastic."

"Dangerous work, but what is to be done? I eat what's on my plate."

We're lucky to have him as part of our gäng and not as the enemy.

"Seems reasonable."

"But you said that my accusations of murder were baseless."

"Hershel, I expected you to be able to read between the lines. That's a good subject for our next lesson."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Ignatz?"

"You and I both know that some elements of our business are certified trade secrets, Hershel."

"Have you ever wanged anyone, Ignatz?"

"What, now you develop a human interest in your subjects?"

"What about the woman?"

"A very difficult case. Who knows how many other operants she's in charge of. It seems I'm forced to make her a special project of mine..."

A theatrical sigh, as though the entire horizon were bearing down on him.

"For now, leave her to me. Do not attempt to approach her on your own. For both our sakes."

"What did your 'sources' tell you?"

"My new employers, they're very into security, mental or otherwise. It's all part of their ideology, constructing a post-historical Subject, and so forth."

"I'm familiar."

"Forewarned is forearmed, as they say." He nods approvingly.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, seriously, but the man I'm working for, his name is Buendia. I think your people call him Hundred Eyes or something."

Nothing you haven't already uncovered. It's starting to appear this 'assignment' may've been a wash.

"I must tell you, it's very interesting. Using my knowledge of modern psychology and my keen powers of observation, I've concluded something is amiss with my new employers."

"Ignatz." (Rub your temples.) "I knew all this stuff already."

"Really, I hate to say this to you, Hershel, due to all the respect I have for you and the Opera, but you're a little fucking rusty."

'He's no one. Just a seedy little oddity'.

And now, so are you.

"For example, at this very moment I can see that you are quite shook over the potency of the knowledge I wield."

Intestines coiling. Loathing. Hate.

"Fine. Share some more of this 'knowledge' you've acquired."

"I do not think Mr. Buendia cares much for these culture people, even though he is responsible for their security. He is what you call a 'military hardliner'. The muscles form a smile, but the expression is not very happy, if you follow my meaning."

"I've heard there's tensions between the Weeping Eye and the Ministry of Mass Culture."

"Yes, for instance Minister Reyes. I think your people have another name for him."

Not one that he has any business knowing.

"'The Grand Lich of Techno-Fascism'."

"Yeah.. I think that's the one. Did you know that no one knows what he looks like? Interesting, isn't it?"

"Never heard of him. Must be minor."

"Hershel, a lack of knowledge is not something to be proud of. But I can let it slide... as no one knows what he looks like anyway, and people need faces to put names to."

"Has the Golem said anything to you?"

"No, no, not a word. I would not betray his confidences if I enjoyed them. These are private observations shared with you on a highly unofficial basis."

What is it it going to cost him?

"You should've told me this sooner."

"My hands are tied. I wish I could help more, but in this instance I'm a dog with two masters."

At the word 'dog', the cat's tail makes a violent swish, as though batting the idea away.

"I believe I'm taking enough risks for you as-is. Please, don't be greedy. This is a professional note."

"Considering how badly you fucked this one, Hershel, I would think appreciation is the stronger move here."

"That's a personal note and a professional one."

"Tesoro Buendia..."

"It's very satisfying to say, is it not? Perhaps it's just the aura of techno-fascism. He's a very serious individual, but maybe not as bad as the Opera makes him about to be. Very polite."

"I think you might even get along, even though according to his hierarchies people like you and me would be 'sub-subhuman'."

"I do not think we'd get along, actually."

"I try to take people as they come, you can't be so harsh on everyone all the time. That's just a personal note."

The cat heaves a great sigh. It appears fantastically bored with people and their notes for one another.

"Anything else you can share about him?"

"I don't think I should, Hershel. On account of us being on opposite sides in this particular matter. Don't take it personally."

"I've already spent too much time dealing with old techno-fascists for this assignment."

"Are you for real? Hershel, I'm glad to see you expanding your horizons politically. This post-historical materialism, I don't know. I don't think the people buy it anymore, no offense."

THERE IS NOTHING TO 'BUY'. IN THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLICS THE PROMULGATION OF IDEOLOGY IS TOO PRECIOUS TO LEAVE TO MARKET FORCES.

"Thanks, Ignatz. Very useful." (Proceed.)

"Wait, Hershel. I've been wondering just one thing, about the old days, when we used to work together."

For the last time, there were no such days.

"You never told me what was my cryptonym, around the Opera."

No need to slam a door you might want to use later.

"You're not supposed to tell an asset their cryptonym."

"Yeah, yeah, of course, I get it."

"But you know, out of curiosity. Who knows how many more times we'll get to work together, you know? The world is precarious, as we know well."

"You have no cryptonym because we never worked together."

"You are right, we should not allude to our previous configuration in the presence of third parties," he says with a whisper.

The cat looks away, in a crew of its own.

"No. Seriously. I have no collection of you."

"Come on, that's a bit rude to say, don't you think?"

He is going to remember what you say next for a long time.

"Get real, Ignatz: You don't have 'it'."

"Wow. Do you hate me, Hershel? I have more of 'it' than anyone else in this world. Look at the cat, even the cat has massive quantities of 'it'. It seems the only one who doesn't have 'it', is you."

He looks over one shoulder and the other and makes his way toward the exit.

"See you around, Hershel. And good luck. I think probably you'll need it."

He looks over one shoulder and the other and makes his way toward the exit.

"See you around. I would not count on petting the cat again if I were you."

He looks over one shoulder and the other and makes his way toward the exit.

"See you around. Try not to get yourself killed."

"The truth is the Opera can't afford your rate. They've got me scrounging sol from payphones to get by."

"Wow. That's no excuse, Hershel. Why do you hate me?"

"Ignatz, how can a fact be rude?"

"Wow. Do you hate me, Hershel? Like actually hate me? That's a terrible thing to say, especially given how I've just come through for you."

"You're right, I'm sorry. But this is how it has to be."

"Okay. You're a very hard one to deal with sometimes, Hershel."

"I suppose that's why you're the big-time operant..."

The respect is begrudging, but true.

"Anyway, let's keep this between ourselves, as friends and so forth."

He looks over one shoulder and the other and makes his way toward the exit.

"See you around, Hershel. It was good to work together again."

"If you ever manage to channel that hardness to your work, and not just your personal relationships, you might do alright..."

"Now you're thinking." (Tap the side of your head.)

"Sorry I'm not available for the crew this time around. I held out as long as I could, but as you know, a man can't live off loyalty alone."

Make up a cryptonym for Ignatz.

You were born to name assets. This shit practically rolls off the assembly line.

"IDOL."

"That's pretty rude, Hershel. I go hard every day."

"No, not 'idle'. I-D-O-L."

"Hmmm. Okay. Much better. I always suspected you looked up to me, so it's nice for your subconscious to confirm it." He nods along.

Tonight while he lies in his squalid bed, he'll recite it to himself like a prayer.

"I should get going. Maybe you as well."

"You're right. We've lingered too long up here, exposed." He casts a brief glance over his shoulder.

"Let's keep this between ourselves, as friends and so forth."

"Get lost, Ignatz."

"No problem, Hershel. Already gone." He casts a brief glance over his shoulder.

"IDEALIST."

"That's interesting. I consider myself an extremely world-weary individual. But I get it, an attempt at irony." He nods.

A pause. He's sounding the name out to himself, trying it on for size.

"Hmmm. Okay, I can get behind this. IDEALIST."

"INTERVAL."

"Very interesting. Perhaps some subconscious poetry, given the length of time between us working together..."

A pause. A slight nod of the head. He's getting into it.

"Hmmm. Okay, I can get behind this. INTERVAL."

It's been a while since you've done this, but you haven't lost your touch for names.

A single word appears projected in reverse against the inside of your eye balls.

"IGNUTZ."

Some spark seems to drain from his eyes.

"Alright, ha-ha. Here's how we treat our old friend Ignatz. He comes through and we shit on him for sport. Mega-cool, Hershel."

"Here I thought it was nice to be working together again. Now I can understand why your old crew want nothing to do with you."

You're simply doing what you were made to do. You can't expect him to understand.

"I just want to point out that you were on the verge of fucking this one royally, and I bailed you out. Life can be a difficult teacher, but I'm her most diligent student. So don't worry, I won't make the same mistake again."

He will make that mistake as many times as he's given opportunities.

"Let it go, Ignatz."

"Get out of here. Your face upsets me." [Leave.]

"No, seriously. I knew all of this. About the Golem, the Lich, the bullshit between them. You're just wasting my time now."

"That's very telling of your state of mind Hershel. Maybe you should meditate."

"I'm disgusting."

"Please, Hershel. I think better of you than that."

"I thought they'd solved all their problems with advanced techno wonders."

"No… no… this is beyond a simple matter of machines.

Machine matters are never simple. Boo, Ignatz.

"You mean besides the fascism?"

"Hershel, this is another one of your gross reductions. Please do listen, it is very important."

"It's because they're all copies of some 300-year-old individual, and they keep getting worse."

"That's a very divergent type theory, Hershel. I would not repeat that too loud or too often. People might think you've gotten like your old double."

"CASCADE." He shakes his head sadly at your poor stagecraft.

"But if reality is as your divergent theory suggests, that would tell me the Luzian mind does not know itself."

"Amiss how?"

"Despite the unified face they put on for the world, I think I have detected subsurface tensions behind the placid expression, tensions of the eternal kind."

"The eternal kind. Soft power against hard power. Culture against civilisation. A house divided and so forth."

Tesoro Buendia. To the Operant Bureau he is the Hundred-Eyed Golem. To La Luz he is the Chief of the Weeping Eye.

Whoever he is, the cat appears utterly indifferent. It seems to have known all this already.

"You can skip the techno-fascist gibberish."

"Alright, alright. Direct to business. Got it."

"Sounds ominous."

"Very futuristic, as they say."

"I have no idea what any of that means."

"Okay, Hershel. I'll do my best to keep it primary school-style for your sake."

"To be completely honest with you, Hershel, that was a test of sorts, to see if we could work together in the future. And well, you basically failed it. But look..."

"I see now that you really need help on this new assignment you've been given. So I'm going to help you out, even though you failed the test. Not everyone understands what we do, so we have to help one another when we can."

"Hello again, Hershel. What have you got for me?"

"We need to talk about the cat some more."

"Okay, Hershel. Sure. We can talk about the cat some more."

"It's just unbelievably white. How can a thing be so white?"

"It's more like the idea of white than white itself, I agree."

Dositeo Fernandez... nevermind.

"Do you ever wonder what it thinks about?"

"All the time, Hershel. But it's a fallacy, I believe. Cat brains are not human brains. We have no idea how they work."

The cat corkscrews its body ever so slightly and shivers as it stretches.

Mr. Reno wants his cat back."

"The cat is better off with me, Hershel, outside of its gilded cage. It is an animal of the world, just like I am a person of it. I will take it to places, and it will take me to places -- everything will be okay."

"If Mr. Reno really cared about the cat, he would have never let it go -- or what, are you his sub-lead now as well?"

"He calls the cat his baby."

"The cat is far beyond such infantilization, Hershel. That's why it belongs with me, at the grown-ups table."

"I work only for myself."

"Of course, Hershel. There are only interests.

"Maybe the cat does need to see the world."

"You and I are intellectuals, Hershel. That's why we get along so well. We are people of the soul and the mind. The cat is an animal of the soul and mind. I hope this clears up any confusion."

"This is theft, Ignatz. It's wrong."

"Hershel, where did you go? I cannot see you. Must be due to the light reflecting itself straight to my eyes in this glass house."

"You know what? Forget it."

The cat licks its fur, slowly.

"Do you think it ever thinks about us?"

"I think… no, it probably doesn't think about us."

"Do you think it ever thinks about death?"

"It probably doesn't think about death, but it must know it."

It can feel it.

"Do you think that cats can appreciate music?"

"I think... humans require music to find equilibrium for their emotions. But as a cat's emotions are always in balance, they have no need of it."

The cat yawns slowly.

This conversation is many levels beneath the cat. It knows what it thinks.

"Ignatz -- is this cat your controller?"

"That's a pretty full-spectrum question, Hershel."

The cat rotates its head a few degrees toward you, fur wet.

You're in the presence of a power utterly beyond your comprehension.

Look the cat in the eye.

It's not that the cat sees through you. Rather, it does not see you at all. Its gaze penetrates the very air you're currently occupying and opens a doorway to an ancient future...

Don't look, just in case.

The cat extends a forepaw. A brief flash of claws beneath the sodium light.

The cat rotates its head a few degrees toward you.

"That's enough about the cat."

"Finally. It's like you only came here for the cat, rather than your old friend, Ignatz."

"Let's talk about the cat."

"So now you want to speak about the cat, Hershel? Of course."

"The cat is no concern of mine."

Alternative wording

"I got my fill of cat last time. We can move on."

"Good, good. That means you've passed the first test: Not falling for the cat."

"I have the photos."

"Good! Good. Now hand them here, please."

His eyes alight beneath the brim of his hat.

"The information first, Ignatz."

"Oh, wow. Are you for real?"

"I am realer than real."

"Hershel, I don't mean to be rude but you sound like a fake friend."

"I'm observing a pattern of extremely uncollaborative behaviour, and as your de facto lead, this is very, very concerning to me."

"Now, let's get this rendezvous back on track. The photos, please."

"I can't give you these, Ignatz."

"When I said you were rusty, Hershel, I didn't mean to crush your confidence. I'm sure the photos are perfectly servicable."

Alternative wording

"They're pretty great, actually, I think I've got a real future in photography. I just can't give them to you."

Alternative wording

"They could be photos of my thumb over the lens, and I still wouldn't give them to you."

Text unavailable

"What do you mean."

"I'm not going along with your perverse escapade."

"You've already taken the pictures. Any damage is already done, and it'd be far outweighed by the sheer value of the information..."

"Beyond that, withholding the photos would mean I couldn't possible uphold my end of our bargain, even if I wanted to. And Hershel, this wounds me. Deeply."

"Okay, but that information better be worth it." (Hand over the photos.)

"That's more like it. Now let's see what we have here..."

He slowly thumbs through several prints until his gaze fixes on one in particular.

He seems surprised somehow, as if he willed it to materialise in his hands.

"Very good!" He holds up the photograph. "This is very interesting stuff, I must admit."

"So? What do the auras say?"

With his free hand he holds up the photograph you took.

"I can tell you our friend here is a fucking dead man. These waves here? Highly suggestive of ulterior motives."

"What kind of motives?"

"Hershel, please. This is a basic in-theatre analysis. Highly preliminary. It would take many hours of analysis to derive more than this."

"Besides, I'm already revealing much more than I should, out of consideration for our history together."

"What about the woman?"

He flips the photograph back around and considers it.

The cat stares at Ignatz with uncommon curiosity.

"She's harder to read, much harder. I take this as evidence of advanced cognitive maneouvres at work."

"Most likely you fucked up and she was actively shielding her thoughts from you, otherwise her shadowplay is even more powerful than I suspected."

"She works at the Fogged Mirror. Her name's Lucia."

"You've cracked her persona? Very good, Hershel. I'm truly impressed."

He knew that already.

"I'll just make a note for further investigations."

Why does he not sound impressed then?

"I've never seen her before."

"You're a single operant, slowly re-sharpening your skills, and this is a high-level individual. I can't hold that against you."

"For consolation, consider that it took the full resources of my new employer and all my considerable skills to get us where we are now."

"Maybe you just don't understand women."

"Please, Hershel. Don't be simple. Woman is an animal, same as man. They experience the same drives, the only difference is what means they have to realise them."

"This is basic gender theory. Maybe you should learn some."

"It can't be that powerful. She's only a woman."

"Hershel, you are a woman, and you've done some solid sub-lead work. What's with the internalized misogyny?"

"Wait one second. You photographed me. What colour was my aura?"

"Are you sure you really want to know?"

"Show me the picture."

He digs in the deep pockets of his coat and produces a creased photograph.

"Here, see -- your aura is all blue, Hershel. Its actually very concerning and indicative of melancholy. No wonder you fell over in the Bazaar. Maybe you've lost the will to go on."