"Wow... an actual liquidity mage..."

"Wow... an actual liquidity mage..."

His tiny mind is blown.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm checking out the scene. Inhabiting the streets. Thinking about the past and the future." He nods, slowly.

He's doing nothing.

"What's in the past-scene?"

"Crop tops, monuments and communism." He adjusts his hat.

WRONG -- COMMUNISM IS OMNIPRESENT!

"What's wrong with crop tops?"

"Nothing's wrong with crop tops -- it's all to do with belly buttons. In the current year of 96, the scene has deemed them out." He flicks his finger to drive the point home.

Belly sexy. Man wrong.

"Tell me about the monuments."

"This decade is all about portability. Its not feasible to take a monument with you." He pauses. "Maybe like a brick from the foundation or something, but not much more."

"What about communism?"

"Look around you -- they tried it here, but it didn't work. All that remains from it are monuments and crop tops." He lowers his head.

"If solidarity is not in fashion -- screw fashion."

"Well, now, if you put it like that... this solidarity sounds kind of cool." His brow furrows, slightly.

IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE COOLEST.

"The free market will sort it out."

"Yeah..." he looks to the distance, wistfully.

Struck a nerve there.

"Understood."

"Cool." He nods.

"Let's talk about something else." (Go back.)

"Yup."

"Tell me what the future-scene holds."

"Luzian everything: full-reflection clothes, high-speed synthesizer music and tiny attack dogs." He dishes the words out at speed.

"Why the reflective clothes?"

"They intend to overwhelm your eyes with brightness, so you wouldn't see them coming. Cool, but also, menacing." He grins.

Then the fight shall happen with eyes closed.

"What's the music going to sound like?"

"A wall of electronic sound, punctuated by low end rhythm, designed to misdirect your sense of space and time." He clicks his fingers.

"L-pop is just the introductory lullaby to make the people, ballers included, drop their guard."

A song of impending decomposition.

"Tiny attack dogs?"

"The scene thinks it to be some kind of a power move, just for laughs. It's not like you'd see or hear them coming, right?" He pinches his thumb and index finger together.

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been around the scene long enough to have a feel for what's up next." He waves his right hand, just a bit.

"It seems like they're all flash, no substance or work ethic."

"They must have some substance, given their success on the global scene." He nods.

"This Luzian future sounds kind of cool."

"Yeah. Despite the aforementioned, their shit is really, really cool." He clicks his tongue.

"Let's talk about something else." (Go back.)

"Mhm."

"What's on the current scene?"

"On the scene? Well, there were some suspicious looking people around here, out-of-towners, I think, but they've moved on. They were wearing some cool, high-end shit." He nods.

"What's suspicious? They look normal to me."

"Well, maybe you lack the necessary context of the scene." He says, slightly irked.

"'Cool' in what way?"

"Futuristic materials, high-grade factory work. Not yet fully reflective, but getting there." He nods.

Luzians.

"Futuristic materials, high-grade factory work." He nods.

"You mean the trio that was hanging around there before?"

"Yeah, you know them?" He perks up, just a bit.

"I thought their clothes looked a bit shit to be honest."

"No, they weren't too talkative."

"I had a similar experience."

"No, but they were pretty cool."

"Yeah. Representing the brands, you know." He nods.

"I spoke to them earlier. They seemed normal."

"What kind of threads?"

"A lady wearing Verta9 sneakers, a man in a Sacrophobe coat, another man wearing Crossbill."

"Those are all Luzian brands. They don't even sell the knock-offs for some of these in the Bazaar, hence, out of town." He smiles, pleased with himself.

"How do you know these brands?"

"I told you -- been around the scene long enough."

"Why were they here?"

"I think they were Luzian brand ambassadors. I hit them up the other day, hoping to represent the scene of Portofiro, but they were not very talkative and told me to mind my own business."

Alternative wording

"I think they were Luzian brand ambassadors. I hit them up the other day, hoping to represent the scene of Portofiro, but as I said, they weren't very talkative and told me to mind my own business."

"I thought we could have a scene cross-over, but it was not to be." He lowers his head, slightly.

"You must be some kind of a sick Luzophile."

"No... you've got me all wrong. Style has no borders.... or politics. Right?" He averts his gaze.

"For decades Quisach was a very low-quality scene, as far as the global scene goes. It's starting to show promise now, but I have to keep watch to make sure it doesn't go the wrong way." He nods.

The thankless gatekeeper.

Global scenes? We've been in the archives for too long, we might be getting left behind! Find öut what's in.

"Must have been difficult for you."

"When life closes a door, it often closes another door, before opening a window -- the window of the scene. That's how it works. You're out until you're in and vice versa."

"Is this how you spend your days?"

"Hey! A dwindling, local culture needs ballers like me to stay on top of the little we have... otherwise who can know what's in and what's not? The scene would fall to anarchy."

"Thanks for the insight, Kurt."

"You're welcome."

"Why are the Luzians here?"

"I think they are Luzian brand ambassadors. I hit them up the other day, hoping to represent the scene of Portofiro, but they weren't very talkative, told me to mind my own business."

Alternative wording

"I think they're brand ambassadors. I hit them up the other day, hoping to represent the scene of Portofiro, but as I said before, they weren't very talkative, told me to mind my own business."

"Why do you say that they're out of town?"

"She's got Verta9 sneakers."

Sleek.

"He's got a Sacrophobe coat."

Evil.

"And that man over there is most definitely wearing a Crossbill."

Not gäng.

"Those are all Luzian brands. They don't even sell the knock-offs for some of these in the Bazaar, hence, they're most likely from out of town." He smiles, pleased with himself.

"A lot. Look at those people over there." He points toward the bridge ahead. "Out-of-towners. Faultless threads."

"Tell me about the global scene."

Alternative wording

"I have more questions about the global scene..."

"You're not intimated by my knowledge. Good."

"What do you know about the scene in La Luz?"

"La Luz is currently leading the scene, the undisputed world champion of what's in. Cicatriz Frontera may be the political capital, but the city of La Cupula is the scene capital." He nods.

A desert city known to be the centre of Luz' film and music industry.

It has become so closely associated with 'cool' that desert motifs have become popular even in the Superbloc.

"I've heard rumours though, that the political types are all imprints of just one scene savant -- and that's why the capitals are different cities..." He pauses. "How would you duel for recognition if you're one and the same?"

"I've been thinking of making an imprint of my own."

"Advice from a young but talented baller? Don't do it. Competition is tough on the scene. The last thing you want is another you muddying the scene waters. Having a hundred yous is baller. Having two is not. Having just one is baller. Keep the distinction in mind."

"I have an imprint, too. Is it over for me?"

"It could be. Knows all your moves, can plan ahead. You're going to have to start moving sideways, backways, any ways but the ways they expect. Also, lock up your threads -- they may look good in them."

Whatever. You know ways that don't even exist yet.

"Why would they duel if they're the same?"

"You're obviously new to the scene. Ballers of that calibre are destined to be at war with one another -- especially if the difference between them is small." He nods.

"It's the only way to find out who is for real and who is not. Comes with the territory. Sometimes it happens that both of them turn out to be real. That's what's called baller synergy. Very good for the scene."

"Maybe that's what's causing all these wars... scene rage."

"Scene rage is real. I've seen it drive ballers mad and straight into the relegation zone -- where they are deemed out. That's where they get de-ballerised..."

A tinge of mourning in his voice.

"What do you mean, imprints?"

"They're all copies of the same man. A baller of the ancient scene, primordial even. They've been reheating him for three-hundred years now -- but they still manage to keep it fresh. Respect."

"How about UV?"

"Ultra Violeta? So scene that she went missing for the scene and the scene stayed hers. That's legendary status, beyond."

"Tell me where Quisach ranks."

"Cool older guys will tell you that Quisach once ranked number one on the global scene hierarchy."

"The Palace of Culture used to be the centre of scene operations. Chief baller ran the communist party from in there -- but they couldn't keep up with the changing scene." He lowers his head.

"In short -- Quisach has ranked low for decades now, but new ballers rise from its ashes all the time: ballers like me." He lifts his head with vigor. "This place is on the up, only the culture, or rather, the baller blockade is holding us back."

"I haven't seen any new ballers."

"Did you lose your sight all of a sudden? You're looking at one." He points at his chest. "Take another look at the jacket."

"You think you can't build a scene without copying Luz?"

"Never said anything about copying them, but the scene is ever changing. Eyes on the prize, at all times all times -- balling in flux."

"The party supplies vendor at the bazaar say's the city's dead."

"Wrong, totally wrong. It's up and coming, the party supplies vendor won't be able take a single step without skirting against the edges of the scene..."

"Culture blockade?"

"EMTERR. Keeping Luzian goods out of Portofiro. They know they can't go ball-to-ball with the best." He adjusts his zipper, just a bit.

"Give it to me straight -- where's Novessa on the scene ladder?"

"A firm two or, three on the ten-point scale I just thought of." His brow furrows.

That's not a lot...

"It's not very baller of them to force everyone to do jumping jacks or executing civil servants in the street, especially when wearing the clothes they do..."

LIES! STOP HIM! WAR CRIME!

"How do you know all this whilst based in Portofiro?"

He pauses, watches you a moment, and shuffles something in his pockets.

"I protect my sources."

He's mostly making it up.

"That's all I wanted to know for now." (Back.)

"Yeah, cool." He nods.

"Oh, you don't know the scene worldwide? That's alright, many don't -- it takes many years of experience to see the scene like I do. I'm here to divulge."

"What's this 'official heat' that you're feeling?"

The man stares at you with a long, stern look of hesitation.

"I have balled too hard. The streets of Portofiro have not been ready for such a display of style. And to be honest, I haven't been ready either."

"This cool jacket? The Party Alley Tailor made it for me, but I never paid for it. I owe him money, I have no money and I cannot show my face around the heart of the scene..."

Exiled.

"How could you stiff a man of the scene?"

"I never intended to. Ever since some new faces started popping up, I felt an undying need to improve my game, for any potential scene cross-overs."

How would one resist the prospect of such a jacket?

This man is enamored by aesthetics and lacks fundamental awareness of anything else.

"You mean the one who makes high-end clothes?"

"Yeah... you've met Bruce? That's the same one."

"I don't understand. Why would he give you such a cool jacket without payment?"

"I'm a local guy, been around here all my life, he knows my dad as well. And we signed a contract." He kicks a small pebble with his shoe.

"I know fuck-all about contracts. But I got the jacket. I felt high. Exhilarated even. But I haven't been able to come up with the money. Haven't even had a single cross-over."

"I guess you'll sort it next payday."

"These days, the scene has deemed the notion of work out, so no."

LIBERAL FALSEHOODS HAVE CORRUPTED HIS MIND. HE NEEDS THE ASSISTANCE OF THE PEOPLE.

"How much do you owe him?" (Proceed.)

"We signed a contract, as I said, but I was too excited to remember anything about the total cost." A pause. "Maybe it was a lot... maybe it wasn't a lot at all? But the jacket is baller. I suspect and fear that it was a lot."

"Can you find out how much money I owe him?"

Wow.

"Why won't you do it yourself?"

"What if it's impossible to pay back? What if other people find out that I am balling on borrowed time?" He waves his arms. "It would spell disaster for the scene."

Double wow.

"Sure, I'll help you." (Accept.)

"Thank you so much. Go to the Party Alley Plaza. It's east from here. There's a tailor named Bruce. Maybe you can ask him like, quietly, diligently, on my behalf about the you know... the price of the jacket."

"I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

"I want no part in your financial irresponsibility." (Decline.)

"Well, we all have lapses in judgement, don't we?" His eyes plead.

"To be honest, I don't actually know. I had to sign some kind of a contract, but I don't know a whole lot about contracts." A pause. "Maybe it was a lot... maybe it wasn't a lot at all? But the jacket is baller. I suspect and fear that it was a lot."

"On second thought, I'll help you out with the Tailor."

"Why is your dad going to freak?"

"He's old school... living in his delusions of past grandeur. Thinks he's got it all figured out with the money, the business, very proud."

"Zero knowledge of the scene or what's fresh. Going to give me another one of his lectures, very uncool." He looks away.

"What's your dad do?"

"He's the manager of the housing campaign... or at least that's what he calls himself. In reality he's just a janitor."

But that's Tonio... the building manager.

"I've met your father in the housing campaign -- Tonio?"

"If you saw him you know what I'm talking about. We're different. Not like night and day but more like... two nights and two days, you get me? Very different scenes."

The hard working father and the wasteful son. Only a member of royalty is missing.

"The past may hold very valuable lessons."

"Yeah... like what's definitely out."

A barely audible hiss in his words.

"Your dad said that you don't understand money and are scared of honest work."

"Honest work? The man is a prisoner in his own mini-scene. Walks around with his broom, full of self-importance, unable to let go of his past glory managing a guest house or whatever..."

"You can tell him that his broom is out. The rest of the scene uses vacuum cleaners by now." He nods, angrily.

"Alright Kurt, let's talk about something else." (Go back.)

"The scene's the scene."

"I saw your dad. He said that you don't understand money and are scared of honest work."

"Honest work? The man is a prisoner in his own mini-scene. Walks around with his broom, full of self-importance, unable to let go of his past glory managing a guest house or whatever..."

"You can tell him that his broom is out. The rest of the scene uses vacuum cleaners by now."

"I saw the tailor."

"Yes?" His ears perk up under his hat.

"The good news is that you don't owe Bruce any money."

"Really?" He says with a relief.

"I don't get it. How can it be? This is not what the scene is about... I owe money to EMTERR?"

IT'S OBVIOUS THIS YOUNG MAN HAS BEEN LURED IN BY THE FALSE, EVIL PROMISES OF LIBERALISM.

There exist brick walls with more awareness than him.

He truly does not.

"The bad news is that you owe EMTERR money."

"What? The Bank?" He agitates.

Explain his money situation to him.

Money. Some say it is real, others say it is fake, but it definitely has an impact on the world at large and the individuals within.

For this young man, the explanation should be as simple as possible.

"The contract you signed was a financial agreement between you and EMTERR."

"What does that mean?"

Even simpler.

"EMTERR bought that jacket for you so you would pay them a lot more money than the jacket cost."

"But how can it be? I've never even met anyone from EMTERR. How would they know of my desires?"

You can do it.

"The jacket cost 500 sol. You did not have 500 sol. EMTERR has many sol. They gave Bruce 500 sol for you. Now you must give EMTERR 5000 sol."

There is a moment of almost serene, silent reflection within his eyes before the stark reality washes over him.

He's fucked.

"Oh no! So I'm in a lot of debt!"

"It seems so."

"Is this what they call the invisible hand? I think I am feeling it around my neck. What should I do?" His eyes dart from left to right.

"Should I become a Luzian brand ambassador? How am I going to face my father like this? He's a proud man, he wouldn't understand." He is visibly anguished.

"Both the Luzians and EMTERR plot to keep people like you down."

"I now have no choice but to agree. In the scene they say that communism never worked... but I think the alternatives aren't working either."

A COMPELLING POINT.

"Anyway, yeah, you're welcome."

"There must be somebody from EMTERR around here who could help me -- someone who could absolve me of my debt."

"Like a high priest of capital... or a liquidity mage... please, find them and help me... I promise I will make it worth your while."

That Mr. Metamoto guy comes to mind.

Bruce had a whole lot of clothes at his shop, maybe you can play the part of the mage yourself.

There is no such thing as a high priest of capital. There are, however, EMTERR representatives.

"What are you going to do?"

"This is the jacket's fault, Kurt."

"No... a man of the scene must never blame the threads for his own misfortune."

And this is the sphere in which he takes accountability?

"Maybe it's better to come clean. Maybe your father can help."

"No. It would never work out... he's got no sense of style and spends his days withering away in a cold hallway..."

"It is just not possible for a Portofiran to pay back a loan... no one's ever done it."

"There you go."

"If you were rich it wouldn't matter."

"EMTERR paid Bruce on your behalf so you would owe them more money than you ever would owe Bruce."

"You took out a short term loan for the jacket, which the Bank paid the tailor for."

Uhh...

Trust gut. Gut best.

"Bad EMTERR. Many money you owe to them. 5000 sol. Big money. EMTERR bad business for Bruce. Bruce only get 500. Bad business for you too. Bad debt. Need to pay."

But how does money work, actually? What is an interest rate? What is inflation? These are all words... what do they mean?

"So, you owe EMTERR money for the jacket Bruce made, because Bruce got paid by EMTERR, so..."

"But how could he have gotten paid? I had no money on me."

How indeed...

"It must be magic or something."

"I agree. Not very scene."

"It is a mystery."