Branch
Branch
Branch
"Here again."
Branch
Branch
"Anyone you won't roll with?"
"They're your assets, CASCADE -- I'm just here to hold up my end of the deal. Though out of professional pride, I can accept nothing less than a second-in-command position."
"Please don't handicap us pre-game with your team selection."
Branch
Branch
Branch
"Now we're working together... can I try on those headphones?"
Branch
Branch
"No. You're starting to wear out my ear grooves in the foam."
Branch
Branch
He gives you a wary look then once more removes the headphones from around his neck.
Branch
Branch
"This time don't put them on. Just hold them in your hand."
These babies have some heft to them. Planar magnetic drivers. Premium foam cups. And a triple-padded suspension headband, designed to distribute their weight ergonomically.
"These must have cost a fortune."
"Cost is immaterial to the material experience. But yes. A small nation's treasury reserve."
"Was it worth the money?"
"To experience Ultra Violeta like this? In such close communion with the Queen? Bucko, I would have paid double."
GROTESQUE. YOU ARE ADRIFT IN THE OUTER REACHES OF BOURGEOIS HEDONISM.
Branch
You can feel the value in their heft. It's a tribute to his pomade that there isn't a permanent dent in his hair from wearing these things.
"Why do they weigh so much?"
"To ensure that they're sufficiently comfortable for extended wear. And to increase their durability and stability -- perfect for the in-theatre lifestyle."
"That weight also reflects their value. They cost the equivalent of a small nation's treasury reserve."
Branch
"One song." He places them atop your head.
It takes him a second to adjust the band and cups to his liking, sucking his teeth when he realises one of your ears sticks out slightly more than the other.
The clatter and hum of the bar around you deadens to nothing. Then he presses 'PLAY'.
A shimmer of synth casts its spell -- a seismic bass beat storms your chest, thumping against remnant metal -- and a voice, angelic, descends upon your ears.
"Cool."
He lifts the headphones off your ears with delicate hands. The eager world rushes back in.
"That's the end of the track." He raises an eyebrow. "It's like she's in there with you. Singing to you. Once you've had Ultra Violeta like this, there's no going back."
"Ineffable."
He starts to speak, then stops himself and nods at you with a small smile.
Branch
"It's almost as good as I imagine it would be live."
"It's better. With a live performance, there are distractions -- the costumes, the back-up dancers, pageantry, restless attendees. In here," he taps one of the ear cups, "you can really thin the borderline."
"I think you're over-hyping it a little."
"Well, the headphones definitely aren't the problem..." His forehead creases. "Maybe this is simply the wrong environment."
Close your eyes, try to chase the last seconds as the song fades out.
Branch
"You should consider buying yourself a pair like this."
"On what, my stipends? I don't think you understand communism."
"Does the Opera not give out bonuses for successful assignments?" His mouth twists. "Strange way of incentivising."
Maybe they do... You wouldn't know. Operant CASCADE has yet to turn around a 'success'.
Our shitty life is bumming him out.
"Cheap headphones are fine. I'm not worthy of good sound quality. Or comfort."
"I disagree." He shakes his head softly. "Ultra Violeta is striving for perfection in creation; we must do the same in return. Anything less... very disrespectful."
Branch
"I'm going to start saving up my stipends."
"That's the spirit, bucko. Ultra Violeta is striving for perfection in creation; we must do the same in return. Anything less... very disrespectful."
"You should consider giving them to me. As a gift."
"Perhaps if we survive this next undertaking, I'll persuade my audio man to give you a free consultation."
HE WILL TAKE THEM TO HIS TOMB, LIKE THE SELF-STYLED GOD EMPERORS OF PRE-HISTORY.
Branch
"This is the last go, CASCADE. Your head's starting to stretch out the custom fit."
"Sounds like you have an abnormally small skull, man."
"It's slightly broader than most people's actually." He gives you a pointed look as he hands you the headphones.
Once more into auditory oblivion. Nice.
He plays the same song as last time -- like he wants you to commit it to heart. To memorise every lyric.
"WHY THIS SONG?"
"..." Lips moving, silence. He gestures to your ear.
Take off the headphones.
"'Ricochet'. One of her best. So far. Track seven from 'Flower on the Precipice', released spring 95. Non-single."
"I think her new stuff will be even better."
"I think so too. She's born for this. She'd never stop, even if she had managed to defect successfully."
A state asset for life, in voice and image.
"We still have so much to hear from Ultra Violeta. Mark me."
Branch
"How do you know she hasn't peaked?"
"Never." He shakes his head. "She's still so young -- artists like that, the once-a-century kind, they don't truly hit their stride until mid-thirties or so. That's when we'll see her best work."
She'll never make it that long.
"Is this a reference to you shooting at me?"
"Not at all. You're the one who keeps bringing it back up." He takes his headphones back while not looking at you.
"Apologies if the ballistic-themed title churned up any trauma. Still a great song."
"Not very comradely of you."
"Not your comrade." He gives you a pointed look as he hands you the headphones.
"Not now."
Branch
"I'll allow it. But only for a moment."
He hands you the headphones.
"..."
His mouth moved, but you didn't hear anything.
The noise-blocking effect. Anechoic.
The world mutes utterly. It's like being smothered by the future.
Can I still breath?
Barely. The future is a frenzied pillow-wielding mother and you her screaming infant.
"NICE! I DIDN'T HEAR A THING!"
He takes the headphones from you.
"Only 0.25% sound leakage. You could be standing on the tarmac beneath a jet engine, and all you'd hear would be a distant hum. Near perfect isolation."
"They're very good."
Branch
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
"YOU SOUND JUST LIKE PSEUDOPOD!"
"I need to listen to something on your headphones. Direct order."
"I have to ask... Did V make it home alright?"
"She did, although... she said nothing to me all the way over. Not one word. Which is fine by me, of course. I don't need her to talk... just sing."
Still, a part of him was hoping for a little more out of their private journey.
"I don't think it's you -- she just doesn't like her fans very much."
"Of course. She doesn't like what she does to her fans, what she cannot help but do... a million hostage hearts..."
Branch
"I'm glad she's safe."
"You and me and half the population of La Luz."
"Still very much up herself, by the sounds of it."
"Genius can be cold, and it can be tempestuous. Such is its beauty."
"You have another red disc in your astral door. Can I borrow it as a back-up weapon, just in case?"
"Absolutely not. No."
You've asked him to part with the feather from an angel's wing.
"Why? It would be so easy. Just wipe them all."
"And hear it on tram speakers? CASCADE... Why even suggest such mutilation?"
Branch
"Come on man, we're a team now."
"No. Irrevocably, no. That one's staying with me."
"Sorry, yeah. You're probably saving it."
"I most certainly am, now that I know what it is capable of."
"I look forward to it immensely. But not yet. Whether it's next week or forty years from now... I'll know when it's time."
"Deal's on. Ultra Violeta for Poor Dante."
"Excellent." He smiles, relief pulsing through him. "One consideration for you. The prisoner mentioned something about exit papers."
Branch
"So what?"
"He strongly believes your associate Tempo del Sur owes him some. And he'll need them to get out of Portofiro."
Branch
"He shouldn't worry, then. I have them."
"I wasn't checking, merely passing on a point of discussion. What you or the Opera do with the prisoner when you get him is none of my concern, of course."
"Let's conduct the exchange at the pier on the Pitol Tract. Neutral ground, completely our own, clear access to water."
"I wasn't checking, merely passing on a point of discussion. What you or the Opera do with the prisoner when…"This isn't a request, I'm merely passing on a point of discussion. What you or the Opera do with the…"I didn't mistake you for an amateur, don't worry.""Poor Dante."The man stays still for a moment, making sure your performance has concluded.
Good choice. But he's dictating a lot of terms here.
Branch
Bring a gun. He will.
"I was about to suggest that. You just beat me to it."
"Quicker on the draw." A smile and a nod.
"And CASCADE... Thank you for this."
Alternative wording
"And Hershel... Thank you for this."
"Quicker on the draw." A smile and a nod."This is a very sensitive event. The less eyes, the better.""Then we're aligned."Apart from the girl around which it is built."Then I will give you no cause to use it. We're allies now.""Please don't put Ultra Violeta anywhere near any crossfire. Wound her and I'll kill you."
Branch
"Long way to go."
"This is a very sensitive event. The less eyes, the better."
"What if I want to do it somewhere else?"
"I'm open to suggestions."
"Somewhere public."
"With Ultra Violeta? I'm afraid I have to demand the very opposite. Also I need somewhere with boat access."
"Well now that you tell me that, obviously it should be the Pitol Tract."
"Then we're aligned."
"Honestly I would've said the Pitol Tract too."
"I'm bringing a gun, don't try anything."
"I'd hope weapons wouldn't be necessary, but I suppose if you're tooling up, I'll have to do the same."
"We'll see."
"I'm not expecting complications. Everyone wants this trade to happen."
Apart from the girl around which it is built.
"I'm definitely bringing a weapon."
"Then I will give you no cause to use it. We're allies now."
"Beware of 'warning shots'."
"Please don't put Ultra Violeta anywhere near any crossfire. Wound her and I'll kill you."
"I can go looking for them, I suppose."
"This isn't a request, I'm merely passing on a point of discussion. What you or the Opera do with the prisoner when you get him is none of my concern, of course."
"Exit papers won't be necessary."
"How cold. But what you do with the prisoner when you get him is none of my concern, of course."
"Whatever I do will never have happened."
"I didn't mistake you for an amateur, don't worry."
Put an imaginary gun against the side of your head.
"As I said. How cold."
"Freezing cold." (Re-holster your 'gun'.)
"Poor Dante."
Pull the trigger, mimic brains flying out, and slump over the table.
You can't see your opposite number anymore, but you know he's still watching.
Stay down, twitching your body slightly.
You hear the man sigh lightly.
Pick yourself up and flick your eyebrows at him.
"Yes, message received."
The man stays still for a moment, making sure your performance has concluded.
"Got the gist?" (While still twitching face down on the table.)
"I believe I do. Good to see the Opera's reputation for amateur dramatics is intact."
"No amateurs here, I assure you." (Pick yourself back up.)
"I have a counteroffer for you: no info, just a person for person trade."
"You mean the prisoner for... her?"
"Now we're spying."
"I see. What a twist."
Behind the white blue of his eyes, a rapid recalibration is occurring.
Alongside fear... and RESPECT.
Branch
"I can't believe I'm even considering it, to be honest. I'm despicable."
"Aren't we both." He slips into deep thought.
"Feasibly, I could break the prisoner out..." He glances upwards and narrows his eyes. "Can I ask what you want from Poor Dante?"
"I just want to talk schedules with him."
"Intriguing." He sighs and glances away.
Branch
"I'm saving you a step here, by the way."
"I can see the advantage. But it also represents a steepening of terms."
The point of zero return. If he goes fully off-script and abducts the prisoner, he will be EMTERR's fugitive son from here on out.
"The terms are the terms."
"Roger that."
Branch
"I could just as easily sell her back to the Luzians. They'd pay top sol."
"Don't rush me. Please."
"What does EMTERR know about this prisoner?"
"Diplomat, high-ranking. Inner Luzian cabal, would-be deserter." He shrugs. "Something to do with the secret treaties, or at least we're hoping to play him as such."
"So I suppose for now, you'd call him 'leverage'."
Branch
"You scared to meet Ultra Violeta up close?"
"No. I don't fear her. Not anymore."
"You mean you did before?"
"The first listen? The first prising open of the heart? Of course. What is more terrifying than emotional megatonnage?"
Branch
"I literally heard her say 'fuck my fans' once. Especially the hardcore ones."
"I'm sure she's been under a lot of pressure recently... what with the kidnapping, being alone in a new place, away from her music, from anything familiar..."
Speaking about her like a newly-adopted kitten.
"Also, I don't really mind what she thinks of me", he says, a little sadly.
"Wouldn't blame you if you did, she's genuinely quite unsettling."
"'Unsettling' is entry level Violeta. Wait until she terrifies you. Then you're really living."
"You scared of the Bank?"
"Beyond the fact that they'll hunt me down, tie me to a crane and drown me in the nearest body of water... No, not really." He smiles grimly.
"EMTERR understand balance sheets, but they don't understand culture. That's why they're currently getting played by La Luz."
Branch
"So what say you, bucko?" (Conclude.)
"You have direct access to Ultra Violeta?"
"Mainline."
"Then it seems you have a very strong hand, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"Then it seems you have a very strong hand, Hershel."
He holds your gaze a moment, then lets it go.
"I respect your position. For whatever reason... I believe you can deliver."
A face flashes on the underside of your mind -- expression stern behind a black cigarette. Yana needs to agree to this too.
Branch
The man puts a gentle hand on his headphones, as if to ground himself.
"The answer is yes, of course. There can be no other answer."
A whole career cast off in a single moment.
And possibly a whole life.
"We have a deal. How soon can you move?"
Make your 'pleased with myself' face.
"Yes, making deals is very satisfying. But this one is far from done."
"Don't dally, bucko. We are on the edge of the precipice."
Branch
"I'm moving all the time. You just can't see it."
"Then I'll wait until you show yourself."
"One little element to coordinate, but soon."
"If we're doing it, we should do it quickly."
"I'll be honest, this whole thing might fall through on the whim of a sixteen-year-old girl."
"Ah. I've encountered a few of those out in the Ultra-sphere. Very wilful."
You don't have to emotionally prybar these two girls apart. There must be another way through.
Try EMTERR on the books, not off them -- that junior negotiator already looked a little weak at the knees.
It's not Ultra Violeta who must agree to this, but her custodian, Yana.
There's a friendship to sidestep first. Yana won't agree to this easily.
"I'll come through."
Say nothing.
"Limited time offer. I'll need an answer." (Conclude.)
"I want to rip him open and read his entrails."
"There are cheaper ways to read your fortune, operant."
"He's supposed to tell me a bedtime story."
"No need to get cyncial, operant." He sighs and glances away.
"No."
"Fair enough." He sighs and glances away.
"I have my suspicions that 'Ultra Violeta' is a top-shelf Luzian asset."
"Probably so. Irrelevant either way." He slips into deep thought.
"Come on. Are you a real spy or an information merchant?"
"The realest spy you'll ever meet, CASCADE." He slips into deep thought.
"Give her one year and she'll forget this ever happened."
"I'm sure this little sojourn will inspire some very good material..." He slips into deep thought.
"More exciting, right?"
"It's certainly compelling. Big play, bucko."
"Let me get your terms straight..."
"I have direct access to the Luzian prisoner in our secret jail. He tells us his name is 'Poor Dante', and that the 'Poor' part is very important."
"He's big on self pity."
"I will extract whatever information you want from him. In return, you tell me what your former asset has done with Ultra Violeta, and where she might be now."
"Clear, concise, uninflected -- don't you agree?"
"Involves a lot of trust. You could just make stuff up."
"As could you. So we could both lie and gain nothing. Or both tell the truth and gain everything."
"For what it's worth, I think this is a very favourable deal for you, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"For what it's worth, I think this is a very favourable deal for you, Hershel."
Branch
It's not. More favourable would be a clean trade, the prisoner for the girl.
And hand V off to this weirdo?
What use do you have for a fugitive Luzian popstar? She's a critical piece. Play her.
No commitment necessary at this point. String him along, feel him out. There is little to lose.
Branch
Ideal. Thanks, Tempo.
Your asset has set the scene for you. All you need do is play the role.
Forget mere 'info'. Trade the popstar wholesale.
And sell V out?
She's nothing to you. The assignment must be everything.
You can take this to the brink either way. What's the harm in feeling it out?
That's the pro move.
It's the only move. Information? Boring. People? Hardcore. Unfuckable-with.
Branch
You've brushed up against this popstar already. The Yana girl knows more than she is letting on.
And no letting her off the hook this time.
There was a third presence in that safehouse, on the fringes. Back to the teen.
You've brushed up against this popstar already. The Yana girl knows more than she is letting on.
"Also a little unexciting." (Play it down.)
"Each to their own excitements."
"And what if I don't know anything about some missing popstar?"
"Then I'd ask that you find out. Or else commit Poor Dante to a short future in a damp basement."
Say nothing.
"My sympathies -- seems you've got a terminal case of LASS."
"Of what?"
Poor prick's so far gone he doesn't even knöw himself.
"Libidinal Atrophy Shutdown Syndrome."
"Libidinal..."
He squints with concentration, repeating you soundlessly.
"You're saying I'm going to die for want of sexual indulgence? What makes you say... that?"
"Look at the state of you."
He gives himself a puzzled glance, then raises his chin back to you.
"Are you saying I look like a virgin?"
Hmmmmmmmm. Does this guy fuck or not? An impenetrable mystery.
"It's the hair."
"My hair?" He brushes it with his fingertips. "I just don't let them touch it, is all."
Not a strand moved. That is one solid-gelled mane.
"My... libido is nothing for you to worry about. I assure you. And certainly not part of this transaction."
Dubious.
Branch
"It's the headphones."
"I never have complaints. Though I suppose I wouldn't be able to hear. Anechoic."
Alternative wording
"You said yourself that they were compelling. I never have complaints. Though I suppose I wouldn't be able to hear. Anechoic."
He keeps them on. He keeps them on!
"You keep them on?"
"Well... yes. I'm not going to sully the act by listening to UV on a common hi-fi system. Some people just use portable radio speakers, CASCADE. I wouldn't be able to finish."
"This really isn't any of your business."
"Are you ever not thinking about Ultra Violeta?"
"No. But my quarry tend to feel the same."
"Partners, I mean."
"They're off-puttingly large."
"I shall spare you the obvious joke, shall I?"
"It's the trenchcoat."
"Where else am I to put my accoutrements? And I never have any complaints."
"It's the shitty little moustache."
"Oh this is just..." He runs a quick hand across it. "I'm just trying something out. Not at all committed."
"That's why you like Ultra Violeta so much. The sexual melancholy speaks to you."
"I'm simply the Queen's Knight. Not her consort."
"Some strategic cunnilingus may prolong your life a little."
"You think I'm..."
"Go and see Dr. Gonza in Party Alley."
"Gonza is our... local supplier. Also works disposal if he's sober. Tell me you haven't been to him for actual medical advice?"
"You're the one who needs medical advice, my LASS-afflicted friend."
"Stay well away from Gonza unless you need to buy. And whatever LASS is... I don't care."
Branch
"Stay well away from Gonza unless you need to buy. And whatever LASS is... I don't care.""Bodies, CASCADE. He takes them. Stay well away unless you need to buy. And whatever LASS is... I don't care.""I have no idea what you're talking about and don't care to. Stay well away from Gonza unless you're buying.…"Certified. Un-criminal. Sane."
"Disposal...?"
"Bodies, CASCADE. He takes them. Stay well away unless you need to buy. And whatever LASS is... I don't care."
"You don't have long. You might have to jerk it on the way."
"I have no idea what you're talking about and don't care to. Stay well away from Gonza unless you're buying. I mean it."
"Define 'actual medical advice'."
"Certified. Un-criminal. Sane."
"We need to talk about the fact that you shot me."
"I shot at you. It was a warning shot."
Branch
"Even if you shot in the opposite direction the bullet would still find me. That's just the way my existence goes."
"Sounds nihilistic. Chin up, bucko, let them take another swing at it. All I can say is, I intended it to be a warning shot. You just happened to step into my line of fire."
"Well you can't aim for shit."
"Sounds nihilistic. Chin up, bucko, let them take another swing at it. All I can say is, I intended it to be…"As I said -- the intention was for it to be a warning shot. That's the way the gun was aimed. You just…"Yes, I was there. I remember. All I can say is, I intended it to be a warning shot. You just happened to…
"You can't dodge for shit. My aim is perfect."
"Is that your apology?"
"Sounds nihilistic. Chin up, bucko, let them take another swing at it. All I can say is, I intended it to be…"You can't dodge for shit. My aim is perfect.""To my eye, you seemed to trip and fall into the shot.""As I said -- the intention was for it to be a warning shot. That's the way the gun was aimed. You just…"Yes, I was there. I remember. All I can say is, I intended it to be a warning shot. You just happened to…
"No. Such things happen in-theatre, you'd have done the same."
Branch
"I should get to shoot you back."
"Sounds nihilistic. Chin up, bucko, let them take another swing at it. All I can say is, I intended it to be…"You can't dodge for shit. My aim is perfect.""To my eye, you seemed to trip and fall into the shot.""As I said -- the intention was for it to be a warning shot. That's the way the gun was aimed. You just…"Yes, I was there. I remember. All I can say is, I intended it to be a warning shot. You just happened to…
"That wouldn't be beneficial to either party. Such things happen in-theatre; you'd have done the same."
"Well you shouldn't shoot at highly trained operants then. Did you expect me to just stand there?"
"To my eye, you seemed to trip and fall into the shot."
"No, the bullet definitely went in."
"As I said -- the intention was for it to be a warning shot. That's the way the gun was aimed. You just happened to step into my line of fire."
Show him the wound.
"Yes, I was there. I remember. All I can say is, I intended it to be a warning shot. You just happened to step into my line of fire."
Gesture at the wound again, more emphatically.
"Point taken, CASCADE. Next time I'll aim for you, and chances are it will miss."
"It could have gone in."
"Impossible. I have very good aim."
"That shot on you was also deserved. You were squirrelling in my affairs."
"I was spying, obviously. Pretty well, in fact."
"It seems I was spying harder. And better."
"Can we just put it behind us? Such things happen in-theatre. We both live. Move on."
Branch
"Yeah, I found your perv stash."
"I'm not..." He runs a tired hand across his face.
"Don't say 'squirrel', that doesn't make it sound very cool."
"It wasn't. You were hunched over a mailbox slot trying to stick your hand in. It even looked like it got a little bit stuck at one point."
"And I skillsed my way around it. But that's no excuse."
"You didn't skills anything. I wasn't trying to hit you."
"How do I know you won't do it again?"
"Because I'd be doing it right now."
Branch
He could try. But all his bullets are in your pocket.
"Out of bullets, unfortunately. Maybe you could throw your gun at me."
"At this range, it could do some damage."
Branch
"You forgot about the one in the chamber though." A quick grin, a pat on the side of his jacket.
Balls.
Jangle your pocket.
"Yes, yes, I remember."
A vague threat. Should've disarmed him.
"You took my double off the board. With one of those red discs."
Alternative wording
"You took my double off the board."
"Glasses, double breasted jacket, air of nervous dread about him?"
WHO? THE PARTY HAS ALREADY FORGOTTEN HIM.
"Sounds about right."
"My apologies, I didn't expect that. Though I can't help but feel I did the Operant Bureau a favour..." A quick glance to the side. "He's really dead?"
Not some kind of bluff. Genuine.
"As good as."
"Sounds like a fate worse than the proverbial."
"The cold truth, which you may not want to hear: Your friend told me he was a spy. Outright."
Almost tripped by your own shadow.
"So I took him to be fair game. Inner circle, you know? One among the mirrors."
Branch
"So wait, was taking him out some kind of accident?"
"Not as such... I suspected it wouldn't be a relaxing listening experience but I didn't know she could summon that kind of power..."
Branch
Branch
'Listening experience'? He must mean the red disc...
"The disc did that to him?"
"I can only assume so, from what you're telling me."
"A disc? Really?"
"Honestly, I'm as surprised as you. Just hiding it slightly better."
Branch
"I probably should've pieced that one together sooner."
"No judgement here, bucko."
The red disc! Weaponised culture!
"'Listening experience'... you mean the red disc took him out?"
"His name was PSEUDOPOD, by the way."
"PSEUDOPOD... I'll remember it." A moment. "Was this his first time in-theatre?"
"First big assignment, as I understand."
"Trouble getting off the blocks. It happens."
Branch
"Yes! Can you believe it? This guy was meant to be my lead."
"The mindless tyranny of hierarchy." He shakes his head.
"Where did you meet him?"
"Late evening, under the Ultra Violeta advert to the north of Party Alley. He was gazing up as if he'd never seen anything like it before in his life."
"I don't think he had."
"It happens on the first glimpse. No judgement here."
"He and I got to talking. I gave him a quick Ultra Violeta primer -- he seemed to be quite taken with her."
'Quick'? No fucking chance.
"He initially informed me he was a sock importer with the Superbloc. Then he said he'd been pretending to be someone else all day, and that it hadn't gotten him anywhere at all."
"In reality, he told me, he was a spy for the People's Republics."
OUR SO-CALLED 'SPY' DIDN'T EVEN NEED AN INTERROGATION TO BREAK. A DAY EXISTING IN THE DEVELOPED WORLD WAS ENOUGH.
It was too early for PSEUDOPOD to be in-theatre alone. The Opera failed him.
"Why would he just tell you that?"
"I have no idea. But he certainly chose to confide in the worst possible stranger. Maybe on some level he sensed who I was..."
Branch
One of Ultra Violeta's songs was titled 'Holding Hands with Strangers'.
Branch
And to think... you rubbed that bald spot for luck. Seems he had zero of that stat to begin with.
"Your friend said he felt there was always some vital clue he missed, some secret sign that he was oblivious to. Like the world was turning away from him, person by person."
"Looked to me like he'd had a very long day indeed. So I gave him the red disc and told him to listen to it in darkness, under stars if he could, rain if not."
"He said, 'thank you'. Then he turned and walked away."
Branch
"Sounds like he fucked up then."
"Complicit in his own obsolescence. Maybe on some level he sensed who I was..."
High upon high, the Manus Fati swivels in its stars and raises a middle finger in PSEUDOPOD's general direction.
He doesn't notice.
"He was hung out to dry."
"Humans arrange themselves into self-defeating patterns. Nothing deeper than that, I think. Maybe on some level he sensed who I was..."
Taken all the way to the edge, then dashed upon the rocks of oblivion.
"Don't project yourself on to him, please."
"I'm in no way doing that. I'm not even sure this man was familiar with the concept of popular music, let alone its high priestess."
"Terminal virgin shit."
"Well, take it from me. There's nothing like your first time."
"You knew what this red disc would do to him. To anyone."
"I had a best guess, based on rumours I'd heard. A kind of... soul-taking. From the tyrant queen."
More than a trace of envy.
Branch
Didn't Ultra Violeta herself mention a missing recording engineer?
"The recording engineer, right? The one who disappeared from the session? He must've been the first."
"Yes, exactly... How did you know about him?"
"I spy harder than you can ever imagine."
"I'm slowly learning that."
"It's very likely that Ultra Violeta took everyone by surprise with this song, including her ardent supporters in the Ministry of Culture. World-changing, mind-diverging artistry... aren't we lucky to be living in such times?"
A light glows beneath the pale ice of his eyes.
END TIMES. CULTURE SHOULD GO THE WAY OF HISTORY AND DISCONTINUE ITSELF.
"Of course... I have wondered what it sounds like... Dreamt about it, even. But so far I've lacked the constitution to really commit."
"And yet. Terror is the beginning of wonder."
Branch
"From V."
"You and her seem quite intimate." He shifts his position.
"What was Luz's plan with it? Best guess."
"I believe... that Culture was about to become a very real weapon."
"It's horrific. It makes people living corpses."
"How do you know they're not better off wherever she took them?"
L-Pop heaven.
"So you knew it would be bad."
"I knew it would be transformative. I think we have yet to determine whether it is 'bad'."
In a grey-curtained apartment on the fringes of Novessa, a mother has not heard from her son in days. She pulls her cardigan tighter around her shoulders and tells herself the odd dream she had last night meant nothing at all.
"Where did you get these discs from?"
"From some underground Luzian contacts, purveyors of rare collectibles. I believe only eight or so of those promo discs were released into the wild before they cut the cord on it."
"So definitely not Petre, then."
"The bazaar vendor?" He grimaces. "I tried to enquire about any uncommon articles he may have in stock -- he told me I was a 'hopeless degenerate' and to 'control myself, there are children around'."
Petre knows a mega perv when he crosses one.
Branch
"How did these purveyors get them?"
"I think these two I procured were intended for Luz's national station, Radio Radiante."
'Radio Mutual Peace and Understanding' as it's colloquially known. Very ironically.
Playing that thing on a radio station? Metaphysical nuke.
"I also picked up a limited edition 'Barefoot on the Glass Meadows' 93 tour poster during the same purchase, which I was extremely happy with." He nods twice to himself.
"Where are the other six?"
"I don't know. And I suppose we'll never find out -- the Weeping Eye will cover up any kind of metaphysical incident."
"I know what's on that red disc."
"So do I. Ultra Violeta's new single, 'You But From a Dream'."
"Yeah, but do you know how she wrote it?"
"Go on."
"She says she didn't write it."
"Then let me guess... She reached some kind creative apex and started communing with a primal voice of unknown origin. An angel, a star, a wrath of an unknowable god..."
Did you forget? You're dealing with a mega fan here. He's so attuned to her creative wavelength he's phasing out.
"Uh... pretty much, yes."
"Through dreams, I take it? This was always where her artistic direction was going."
Perv.
"If you're devoted enough, you'll support an artist through anything, any change in direction, experimentations, even metaphysical ones. But please..."
"Stop claiming she 'didn't write it'. Of course she did. If anything, the angels were channeling her."
Branch
"You know what, I'll just keep this part between me and V."
"Sounds like it's between her and the universe."
"The lyrics came from space psychos. The failed rocket launch twenty years ago."
"The AUTONOMÍA mission?"
"The lyrics are the same as some of the crew's logs, man. She wrote them, but she didn't write them."
"You never know... he might come around yet." (Raise your eyebrows suggestively.)
Branch
"Sorry, possibly I'm being slow here... Did he recover? Was the Queen's Affliction temporary."
Raise your eyebrows even higher.
"Okay, play it that way. I'll just ask the man himself, if I see him upright."
Branch
"I'm just saying you never know."
"That's true, you do never know. If music can take people... maybe it can give them back, too."
"The Opera never tires."
"'... Because it never exerts.' As we used to say in EMTERR."
Ha ha ha. Good one from the liberals. Real gang of comedians over there. Remember that time they had to write off an entire country after they 'misplaced the constitution'? Great people. Hilarious.
"I thought you just implied he's dead, or very close to it."
"Enough about him." (Back.)
Branch
"Fine by me."
Branch
"Fine by me.""Or maybe he was too early. Maybe we were meant to meet. The vagaries of fate... Impossible to say.""I hope the curse doesn't extend to other agencies. Or freelancers.""Well, that's professional recklessness. Spies aren't meant to be personal. The victors will be the ones who…"I've certainly been there." He tilts his head."I must admit, I was... caught off-guard by such a rookie error. An own goal if I ever saw one, no trace of…
"No hard feelings, I hope?"
Branch
"I blame myself. I was late."
"Or maybe he was too early. Maybe we were meant to meet. The vagaries of fate... Impossible to say."
"I think the Opera puts people with me on purpose. To curse them."
"I hope the curse doesn't extend to other agencies. Or freelancers."
"Many. I take it very personally."
"Well, that's professional recklessness. Spies aren't meant to be personal. The victors will be the ones who can best hollow themselves out."
"I'm grateful, actually. Sharing this assignment was conceptually upsetting me."
"I've certainly been there." He tilts his head.
"None at all. Terminal lack of 'It' on display."
"I must admit, I was... caught off-guard by such a rookie error. An own goal if I ever saw one, no trace of 'It' detected."
Own goal. Then an early bath.
"Why do you sound surprised?"
"Because I am, of course."
"Zeroing out one of our operants is a strange kind of favour."
"Usually I would agree, but..."
"Apology unaccepted."
"Of course, I shouldn't be apologising at all. This was an in-theatre engagement with the enemy."
"Didn't get any sense of the man. He was fucked on arrival."
"The dread was well-founded, it turns out."
"About my double and that red disc..."
"The spy that barely was. What of him?"
Branch
"Why does Ultra Violeta mean so much to you?"
"She is the tyrant queen of your heart and mine. When she sings, all time and places unfold before you. Especially the ones that will never be."
"Are you saying she's so cultural she's living in the future?"
"There are things behind worlds that aren't meant to be seen by humans. Those are the glimpses she conjures."
"If you don't let her in, she'll storm the gates anyway. As tyrant queens are wont to do."
"But what makes UV special? There are a hundred other L-Pop artists out there."
"Before that, we must look at L-Pop as a phenomenon -- Ultra Violeta represents the perfect alignment of artistic voice and genre."
"L-Pop is a world-engulfing astro-cultural event that is nothing less than the dominant mode of popular expression in our age... a new constellation we eager star-watchers are privileged to witness the birth of."
"So it's just music you're really, really into."
"People think it's... cool to denigrate pop music. I think a form that moves tens of millions of people is the only form worth taking seriously."
The man's pale blue eyes have drifted somewhere beyond you.
"Most popular things are mostly incredibly lame, I find."
"So much popular culture is nothing but temporal debris -- released, glanced at, forgotten. But the best of it is poetry without meaning. A mirror for your life and a wishing well for loose dreams."
"L-Pop is the medium for true expression, the most enduring of all -- loss. Something is always lost. The afterburn is memory."
"So much popular culture is nothing but temporal debris -- released, glanced at, forgotten. But the best of…"I agree. The very bloodline.""That makes at least two of us." Half a grin. "At least we have each other.""Very good. You should pass it along to the prominent cultural theorists of our day, I'm sure they'd jump on…"Precisely."
"Ultra Violeta is the perfect L-Pop artist as she represents the very thing that is lost -- as opposed to every other piece of cultural detritus that merely promises something is missing."
"A future just out of reach."
"And nostalgia you didn't know you held on to."
"The only question that remains: Would you rather live in a world ordered by aesthetic principles or rational laws?"
Principles.
LAWS.
"Principles."
"Me too, bucko."
"L-Pop is an untameable principle. That makes it dangerous. Sadness and loss, yes, but in the most beautiful form you've ever encountered. It is unblinking ferocity, a white hot sun, and it can change people."
"Can music really change people?"
"Hers can. But not because it is 'beautiful', that's not enough. It has to fall beautifully on a person."
"Ultra Violeta seems to be able to do that with many people, no matter how their minds are angled -- like a prism, light refracted into..." He drifts away from you.
"Into what?"
"Whatever's wrong with all of us." A faint smile.
"Why do we seek it out, then?"
"In the hope that the underdog of our souls might rise to the occasion."
Underdog. You. Pieces of soul between teeth.
"Where did you first hear Ultra Violeta?"
"On assignment, actually. In-theatre. Just like your unfortunate friend." An eerie pause. "The Felix Kaido incident, in Tallicho, 92."
Felix Kaido... the name knocks loose some rubble of memory. Revolutionary. Aeroplane. Tragic end.
"The first of many transcendent experiences."
Branch
"What's she like? Up close? I've always wondered..."
He tries to underplay it, jars the cadence.
"V's cool. I like her."
"'Cool'... Well, yes, I'm sure she is that."
Branch
"'Cool'... Well, yes, I'm sure she is that.""And I suspect you don't understand the magnitude of her art."'Not really what I meant. I can tell that from a distance.""As with all prophetesses and high queens throughout History.""And hopefully not the last, if we can reach some kind of professional agreement." He looks at you pointedly.
"She's a little up herself. Too famous for too long, I suspect."
"And I suspect you don't understand the magnitude of her art."
"Terrifyingly attractive."
'Not really what I meant. I can tell that from a distance."
"There is something eerie about her, to be honest."
"As with all prophetesses and high queens throughout History."
"And hopefully not the last, if we can reach some kind of professional agreement." He looks at you pointedly.
"Laws."
"How tragic. I thought we were getting somewhere."
"And now she actually is missing. So kind of fits the whole 'vibe', right?"
"Her return will fit even better."
"She's done with L-Pop. Doesn't want to do it anymore."
"That... I cannot abide. Though I can understand her hesitation."
"Pop music is culture in action, whether you like it or not."
"I agree. The very bloodline."
"I don't think it's cool."
"That makes at least two of us." Half a grin. "At least we have each other."
"'Dominant' as in... 'world domination, techno-fascist variant'?"
"There is an unfortunate political aspect to it... but that's far less relevant than how it can move the soul. That is universal, across ideologies. As your friend found out."
"Yes, yes, sad space music, I'm digging this a lot, KALEIDSCOPE!"
"There's a lot more to it than that..."
"The 'ineffable melancholy'. I've done the reading on this one."
"Yes, exactly that. Exactly that."
He stares at you, impressed.
"I've never heard it called that before, but I know exactly what you're talking about. It's why I have such trouble explaining it to people... You really have to feel it."
"I came up with it myself." (Tap the side of your head.)
"Very good. You should pass it along to the prominent cultural theorists of our day, I'm sure they'd jump on it."
"And if you can be moved... why not be?"
"Precisely."
"Cool, that's probably all I need to know, thanks." (Go back.)
"We've barely approached the front gates, let alone reached the inner sanctum."
Branch
"If you see everything before you... what's behind?"
"A cold whisper at your back. One that makes you scared to turn around."
"You seem mega obsessive."
"I am a devotee, I won't deny it."
"Perv."
"Yes, yes, I've heard it all before."
Yeah, from the child protection feds when they booked him for nöncery.
"Tell me more about the 'Felix Kaido Incident'."
"You haven't heard of young Felix? He's one of yours."
OF COURSE YOU HAVE. A MONUMENT TO COMRADE KAIDO STANDS TALL IN ROHKUS SQUARE. LONG MAY HIS WILL LIVE ON.
"Of course. My boy Felix."
"Your boy Felix. That's him."
"The cut and thrust of the incident was a hostage crisis in Tallicho, at the Saint-Kovetta airfield, year 92."
"The Militia Ruban Rouge had hijacked a plane and thirty-six hostages. So far, so socialist..."
The Militia Ruban Rouge, or M.R.R., an extreme communist fringe group who have slipped further and further into darkness over their ten year 'campaign'.
"Who were the hostages?"
"It was a domestic flight, they managed to hold on to about half the plane when they force landed. Twenty-nine passengers, five crew members..."
"And one Tallichian Vice Minister for Transport, who had gamely offered himself up as bonus hostage in a misjudged gesture of self-sacrifice." A small shrug. "Election year."
"What did the Militia want?"
The Militia Ruban Rouge, or M.R.R., an extreme communist fringe group who have slipped further and further…"And one Tallichian Vice Minister for Transport, who had gamely offered himself up as bonus hostage in a…"They had delusions of flying it all the way to the Superbloc once they'd completed their aims, but in true…
"To delay, or ideally void, a major trade deal between Tallicho's caretaker government and EMTERR."
The soul of the state on the line.
"But after twenty-odd hours of stand-off, one half of the M.R.R. got a little weak at the knees. Which fractured them into two camps..."
APPROPRIATELY DIALECTICAL.
"The first camp felt that their political point had been clearly made, while the second felt that, while it may have been made, it had yet to be underlined."
"So, to underline it, Felix Kaido murdered his dissenting comrades in cold blood, then demanded to negotiate with EMTERR directly."
"Wait, he killed his own friends?"
"They ideologically diverged. Permanently."
Okay, good to know. There are worse friends than you out there.
"Sounds reasonable."
"It wasn't. But then, that's the point, isn't it?"
"Post violent schism, we got called in to drop the curtain on the whole affair."
Whips of dust blown by helicopter blades. Thud of boots on ground, billow of trench coats, steel cackle of assault rifles. The Empire Without Territory descends.
IMPERIALISM LOOSES ITS RUNNING DOGS.
Branch
"EMTERR sent you in to negotiate?"
"Negotiation had manifestly failed by the time I was summoned."
Next up, eradication.
"They sent you in to kill them."
"As I recall, the official objective was to stabilise the situation. Different nuance."
Same result. Nothing more 'stable' than a corpse.
Branch
"They sent you in to wang them."
Make a gun shape with your hand and point it at him.
"About the gist of the assignment, yes."
"Negotiation should never fail. There's always something on the table."
"In theory, yes. But in reality, the house always wins."
"During the negotiation stage of political terrorism, you talk politics. 'We want this, we stand for that. Recognise our tedious cause', whatever the abstraction of the week happens to be."
"But if you fumble that ball, be warned. Down comes the terror. Devoid of abstraction."
"What happened next?"
"We secured the airfield perimeter and then began blasting one of Ultra Violeta's songs through the siren system. On repeat." A glance beyond you. "The first time I heard her voice."
Valkyrie pop. Chants of war.
"On repeat? You must've really liked it."
"It was strategic. A neat parlour trick we picked up from the Novessa Liberation Army. Although they preferred the sound of rabbits being slaughtered."
"Bonafide hit or a deep cut?"
"Ultra Violeta was just getting started at that point... It was 'Follow Me Home', third track from her second EP, 'Lightless Curve'."
Branch
The air raid siren system shrieked once more with the opening bars of 'Follow Me Home', the fifty-third time in succession. A line of armed, headphoned operants stood still and waited, all eyes focused on the Farrier-878 in the centre of the airfield.
"After sixteen hours of that pageantry... we went in. It was raining, too. So heavy that it seemed like the sky was disintegrating."
Branch
"Why?"
"Because rabbits scream when they die."
"I meant, why did you keep playing the song."
"To keep them from sleeping. And to make them a little hazy on the specifics of their current reality."
They'd just dispatched their gäng in hot blood -- things were no doubt 'a little hazy' before the EMTERR Pop Marathon.
"Who picked it?"
"Never found out. But it was a neat parlour trick we picked up from the Novessa Liberation Army. Although they preferred the sound of rabbits being slaughtered."
"So you went in. What happened then?"
"The usual thing that happens when an act of political terror reaches its climax. Terror, sans the politics."
"My objective was to get Felix Kaido out alive for advanced questioning..."
Read: A very bad time in the nearest vacant aircraft hangar.
"I led the team. Logistically, it was a straightforward insertion. Psychologically, our approach was hampered slightly by all the heads."
"Heads?"
"At the culmination of the purge, Kaido had his weak-kneed comrades shot and then decapitated with a gut hook knife..."
"They stuffed the bodies in the cockpit and threw the heads out of the Emergency Exit door."
Branch
Their faces adorning the runway fixed in expressions of mute agony, terror, or something beyond either. The demand from the newly-crowned Lineal MRR was to leave the heads of the 'traitors' exactly where they fell, or they would begin executing hostages.
On the side of the aircraft, in hand-smudged blood, written by Felix Kaido himself, the words: 'WITNESS. TREMBLE. VICTORY.'
"That's horrific."
"No contingent devours themselves alive quite like the hard left."
"Anyway, in we went. Got the jump on the commies early doors, but inevitably the firefight kicked off, as they always seem to. Cramped, bloody, un-cinematic. The ricochets were relentless."
"We finally got Felix out alive, snapping and snarling like some rabid thing."
RED IN TOOTH AND CLAW.
"A bullet glanced into his right eye socket, it was leaking down his face. I remember clearly the ragged tendons hanging over his cheek. Like curtain tassels."
"Why didn't you just put him out of his misery?"
"Because, bucko, I still had to interrogate him."
Branch
"Because, bucko, I still had to interrogate him.""You tend to remember things like that.""And three more were maimed, but there is no line item for 'maiming' in the post-operational review." He…"The secret, terrible truth: No one.""On the floor, crushed under heel. He was the first one Felix went for."
"That's a vivid image..."
"You tend to remember things like that."
"What happened to the hostages?"
"A few of them got knocked off the board."
"How many?"
"Nine," he says, after a strange silence.
"And three more were maimed, but there is no line item for 'maiming' in the post-operational review." He inhales. "One of them beyond recognition. No item for that, either."
"A few here and there. Who's counting?"
"The secret, terrible truth: No one."
"Did the Vice Minister of Transport end up on the floor?"
"On the floor, crushed under heel. He was the first one Felix went for."
"How could they turn on their friends like that?"
"I've often asked myself the same question, truth be told."
"Felix taking names." (Nod approvingly.)
"He took a lot more than that. There were five children on that aircraft."
"You mean the bulkheads... yes?"
"What did you get out of him?"
"Near zero. We talked for several hours. Or more accurately, I talked, and Kaido sat there staring wrathfully with his remaining eyeball..."
TURNS OUT REVOLUTIONARY-CRAFTED STEEL DOES NOT EASILY CRACK. OR BREAK. OR EVEN BEND.
"Eventually he was shot, twice. In the back of the head."
Branch
The communist tasted red dust and smelt the dim sting of aircraft lubricant. A hangar creaked to his left. Behind, someone loaded a revolver and mocked his cause in a language he didn't understand.
Gun pressed to his parietal bone, he tried to conjure an image fit to die to. Before he could form anything more than a vague outline, the bullet bit into his head.
"And that was the ballad of Felix Kaido."
Branch
A glimpse. Then void. The stars above were unmoved. Many didn't exist in time to witness it. In the distance, pop music played.
Branch
MARTYRED AT AN AIRFIELD, JUST AS HE WAS ABOUT TO TAKE FLIGHT.
Cranial fragment halo. Blood chromosphere. Heart deranged.
"Did he say anything before you zeroed him?"
"Nothing useful." He shrugs.
But nothing he could easily forget. Push him a little.
"Come on. What did he say?"
"He said: 'You are a void. At least in my own darkness I can dream'."
"And then he rammed his thumb into his remaining eye and blinded himself whole."
'Atta boy, we should be on our feet saluting that shit.
The man reaches up and adjusts the headphones around his neck with measured movements.
"Right before they pulled the trigger, that same Ultra Violeta song started to play over the airfield speakers..."
To follow him home.
"I thought one of our crew had stuck it on as a humiliating parting shot. But no one ever owned up to it."
Branch
"Something cool and communist, I hope."
"Why not. Revolution's hymns and arias."
"'Sorry I got all those people murdered'?"
"Nothing along those lines, would you believe."
"Did they manage to void the trade deal at all?"
"Not remotely. In fact, the government gave us a better rate due to all the violent excitement."
"But, if I recall the reports, Felix Kaido did inspire quite a significant anti-liberal student faction on the ground in Tallicho. So, who knows? Martyrs tend to play the long game."
Branch
"Okay, I've reached an opinion about Felix and his exploits."
"Please." He motions with his left hand.
"He's still my boy."
"I suspected he might retain that rank."
HE IS THE PEOPLE'S BOY.
Branch
HE IS THE PEOPLE'S BOY.Branch 764COMRADE KAIDO ABSTAINED FROM ALL VICE. NO ALCOHOL. NO GAMBLING. NO ADULTERY, NO FEUDAL TERMS OF ADDRESS. A…"I'm inclined to agree. Hostage or criminal, in the arena of real-time violence there are no politics.""It certainly was for me. For Comrade Felix... I'd say the bullet to the head took the top spot."
"He was brave."
"I thought so too. Less at the time. More now."
Branch
COMRADE KAIDO ABSTAINED FROM ALL VICE. NO ALCOHOL. NO GAMBLING. NO ADULTERY, NO FEUDAL TERMS OF ADDRESS. A HERO OF THE PEOPLE.
"If effecting political change takes that much violence, I don't think it's worth it."
"I'm inclined to agree. Hostage or criminal, in the arena of real-time violence there are no politics."
"The real decisive factor here was Luzian culture."
"It certainly was for me. For Comrade Felix... I'd say the bullet to the head took the top spot."
"That's enough about Felix Kaido." (Go back.)
"You think so? I've never quite been able to forget him so easily..."
Branch
"Sounds insane."
"Evidently he took quite a dim view of both neoliberal monetary theory and lacklustre communism."
"Wait, he wanged his own friends?"
"Seems short-sighted..."
"A sublime own goal."
"How did they hijack it?"
"Small domestic flight, they took it over while it was in the air with nothing but two handguns and six knives. Then they forced it to land at Saint-Kovetta, a disused T.A.F. base."
"They had delusions of flying it all the way to the Superbloc once they'd completed their aims, but in true revolutionary tradition, they didn't think that one through. Domestic flight -- domestic fuel load."
"A failure?"
"By another name... A communist."
"A shadow puppet with one working string?"
"Nothing so dramatic. A communist."
"A high-level operant?"
"Low-level communist."
"A ghost returned?"
"Close. A communist."
"I need some time on this." [Leave.]
Alternative wording
"As you were." [Leave.]
Alternative wording
"See you on the Tract." [Leave.]
"Don't dally."
Alternative wording
"Operant." He nods as you rise to leave. "I'll await word."
Alternative wording
"Until then."
Branch
End of this branch
"CASCADE. Hope things are coming together as you intend."
He turns a dial on his headphones and focuses on you.
Branch
Branch
"A cold end for Poor Dante after all."
"Another ghost to add to the forgiveness-begging pile."
"Don't worry, they're like kittens. Put enough of them together and they start to amuse themselves."
"I, uh... I have a final request of you -- feel free to turn me down, of course." He puts a hand to his headphone wire and pushes it over his shoulder.
"Don't worry, they're like kittens. Put enough of them together and they start to amuse themselves.""I think we are quite alone, actually." He flinches as your spittle hits his face."He did, I think. On the way over he was speculating heavily about life after death." He gazes beyond you, at…"There's cold, and then there's glacial." He gazes beyond you, at the grey water."Poor Dante's a little more wily than he looks..." He glances into the still darkness beyond the pier."I'm sure he appreciated the gesture." He glances into the still darkness beyond the pier."Whatever, I got what I needed.""Which one of us does?""Well... I suppose you never know with the Luzians..." He seems unconvinced."Murk the waters with unpredictable actions." He nods slowly. "An interesting tactic.""I mean, old age will get him in the short to mid-term... but yes, allons-y, Dante."
What class of music player is that headphone wire connected to? Must be a high-end import -- likely customised -- equally compelling.
"Go on."
"Now that I've raided the company safe, so to speak, I have nowhere else to go -- I wondered if I could throw in with you."
THE REACTIONARY LAYS DOWN HIS CUSTOMISED GARMENTS AND TURNS TOWARD THE LIGHT.
"You don't even know my assignment."
"I have an educated guess that it's something big with Luz... and from the price you paid to speak to Poor Dante for all of five minutes, something ambitious."
Alternative wording
"I have an educated guess that it's something big with Luz... and from the way you just managed Poor Dante off stage, something lethal."
Your assignment could do with a professional operant.
I'm a professional operant.
Then you'll have two professional operants and one less damaged-beyond-reasonable-repair asset.
"So, bucko... room for one more?"
Then you'll have two professional operants and one less damaged-beyond-reasonable-repair asset.Then you'll have three professional operants and one less damaged-beyond-reasonable-repair asset.But he will be loyal to the hilt. Former enemies often are.Yes. Professional operant.Former enemies can often make the most loyal allies.Probably more than any of them. He has sacrificed everything on your words alone.No one would mistake the Whole Sick Crew for being 'cool'. Probably still wouldn't, to be fair.Competency doesn't have a dress code.
Branch
"What's the cost?"
"No cost. I'll do as you direct. Even though I probably vastly outrank you in both experience and ability."
Branch
"We're going to assassinate Facundo Reyes. Still in?" (Proceed.)
The man stares at you for a long moment.
"Very good. When do we start?"
"Wait, that's it? No other questions?"
"That's it. I'm sure you'll figure the rest out, CASCADE."
"You have more faith in me than the Opera does."
"I've always found communists to be very cynical. Liberals, on the other hand... much more optimistic."
"Once I see Ultra Violeta to Luz, I'll await your signal at the Fogged Mirror."
"What was it like? Meeting her like that."
"I don't know yet. I'm just trying to keep a respectful distance." He glances at the boat.
Within the hull, Ultra Violeta clasps her keyboard to her chest and stares unblinking at her damp shoes.
"It all feels much like a dream."
"You mean you haven't even spoken to her?"
"CASCADE... I wouldn't know where to start."
"A pleasure." He offers his hand.
Shake it.
"Be well, CASCADE."
He offers you a small salute, then turns and walks towards the boat.
Branch
Branch
Branch
"You're my subordinate now. I don't think that's appropriate." (Refuse to shake it.)
"So, it's like that." He retracts his hand. "Some people lose their minds with authority. Be well, CASCADE."
"That's what V said too."
"Then maybe it is all one communal dream. Whatever keeps you around, I suppose. I could settle for a dream."
"Until then, then."
"I'll give you the word."
"We've already started. You're just late."
"Then I'm glad to be here for the big finale."
Me and HOLOCENE are professional operants.
Then you'll have three professional operants and one less damaged-beyond-reasonable-repair asset.
He might make us look bad.
But he will be loyal to the hilt. Former enemies often are.
He would bring a certain style to the Crew...
Yes. Professional operant.
Former enemies can often make the most loyal allies.
Can I trust him though?
Probably more than any of them. He has sacrificed everything on your words alone.
He would bring a certain style to the Crew...
No one would mistake the Whole Sick Crew for being 'cool'. Probably still wouldn't, to be fair.
But he's so lame.
Competency doesn't have a dress code.
"With the Opera?"
"Sure. But more with you, CASCADE."
"Why?"
"Honestly, I can't put it into words, so I won't try. But I feel like Ultra Violeta has entwined us in some way."
"Naturally." (Blow on your nails.)
"It does feel natural, yes. I think we have Ultra Violeta to thank for that."
"With the communists?"
"Okay -- no."
"Would you at least like to hear it?"
"Be quick."
"Ugh, fine."
"And a firm message to anybody who might be WATCHING OR LISTENING. (Shout that last part.)
"I think we are quite alone, actually." He flinches as your spittle hits his face.
"Turns out he was a bullet magnet. Who knew?"
"He did, I think. On the way over he was speculating heavily about life after death." He gazes beyond you, at the grey water.
"The end is always cold, no matter what form it takes."
"There's cold, and then there's glacial." He gazes beyond you, at the grey water.
Branch
"Happens to the best of us."
"Yeah, kind of fucked that one."
"Poor Dante's a little more wily than he looks..." He glances into the still darkness beyond the pier.
"I wanted him to think he got away all on his own."
"I'm sure he appreciated the gesture." He glances into the still darkness beyond the pier.
"Thanks for stopping him. Appreciated."
"That wasn't my horse that bolted. To be honest, I wasn't sure it was your horse either."
"Whatever, I got what I needed."
"Nice to see one of ours honour their word. Rare occurrence, the deeper you go."
"I don't need another life on my conscience."
"Which one of us does?"
"It was a blatant trap. If I shot him he might've self-destructed."
"Well... I suppose you never know with the Luzians..." He seems unconvinced.
"Sometimes less bodies is the pro move."
"Murk the waters with unpredictable actions." He nods slowly. "An interesting tactic."
"Run free, Poor Dante."
"I mean, old age will get him in the short to mid-term... but yes, allons-y, Dante."
Branch
"No second thoughts, I hope."
Branch
Branch
"Have you found your answer?"
Alternative wording
"CASCADE. Have you found your answer?"
Alternative wording
"Hershel. Have you found your answer?"
Branch
Branch
"Welcome back, bucko. The song remains the same."
Branch
"Since we last spoke, I may or may not have come into possession of a Luzian popstar."
"Let's talk hypotheticals, then. Let's say... you have."
"Okay. I have."
"Congratulations. Care for a professional exchange of information?"
Branch
"I'm not saying there is a Luzian popstar in a safehouse somewhere, but if there were…"
"... Then maybe we can come to some kind of agreement? An exchange of information, between professionals."
"So, turns out the professional knew what he was talking about. Kudos."
"I have been known to, on occasion." He tilts his head. "Maybe now we can come to some kind of agreement? An exchange of information, between professionals."
Branch
"Please." He gestures to the seat across from him.
Branch
Branch
"Questionable coat for an operant."
Branch
"You would know." He nods at your jacket. "Transparent? An ironic gesture, I presume."
"I wear what I like, and I like what I wear."
"I understand all too well."
He looks down at his right sleeve and smooths out a crease with a measured hand.
"When it comes to cool jackets, I can't help myself -- unfortunate habit. This one is a singular piece. The inner lining comprises eighty-eight distinct hues, styled after the wings of the Dreameater Chrisom butterfly."
By night, the Dreameater Chrisom drinks the tears of sleeping birds. By day, its brilliant ventral display wards off its natural predators.
The antithesis of camouflage.
"Where did you get it?"
"Courtesy of an East Kodian tailor. I was on assignment over there a couple of years ago. I had a... personally significant dream one night, and when I woke up, I saw three Dreameater Chrisoms perched at the headrest of my hotel bed."
"The next day, I commissioned the jacket."
PAPERING OVER GENUINE FEELING WITH MONEY. HOW ORIGINAL.
"What was the dream about?"
"I won't get into it, very personal. But it featured someone long dead and someone else who was dead within a year post-dream."
Branch
"I won't get into it, very personal. But it featured someone long dead and someone else who was dead within a…"It was more to commemorate the moment... but believe what you want. As the communists do.""Very possible. They didn't fly away when I left the bed -- but by the time I came back that night, they'd…"I wanted to make sure I never forgot that dream. I wear it every day.""Call it a warning to predators.""Only if you intend to kill me." The man gives you half a grin."Undeniably.""It did cost quite a lot... I feel it's aesthetically viable, at least."
"Typical capitalist, had an emotional moment then eased the pain with a big purchase."
"It was more to commemorate the moment... but believe what you want. As the communists do."
"Did the butterflies drink your tears?"
"Very possible. They didn't fly away when I left the bed -- but by the time I came back that night, they'd gone."
"A new coat makes everything better."
"I wanted to make sure I never forgot that dream. I wear it every day."
"Very conspicuous. A true statement piece."
"Call it a warning to predators."
"Can I see the inside?"
"Only if you intend to kill me." The man gives you half a grin.
THIS GARMENT BEARS THE TECHNICOLOUR INDECISION OF REACTION.
"In the Superbloc, we prefer beige."
"Daring stuff."
"Consistent, I think."
"Undeniably."
"You're the daring one -- your coat is economically unviable."
"It did cost quite a lot... I feel it's aesthetically viable, at least."
"They'll never see me coming."
"I did."
Branch
"Let's not..." A frown in your general direction, "get too judgemental about the sartorial decisions of others."
Branch
"You would know. Unless you are actually a carabinero."
"How do you even spy with those headphones on?"
"In style." He places a hand against them. "They're anechoic. Custom job."
Something about them is vaguely terrifying, the way things crafted for the human head or face often are.
These things are heavyweight. An annihilating force, captured and contained within two masses of metal, foam, and electric wiring.
"'Anechoic'?"
"The obliteration of outside noise. A perfect shelter from the world."
"Are you frequently overstimulated?"
"The opposite, actually. Music takes me there."
Branch
"Sounds pretty expensive."
"It also sounds like nothing at all -- and in our age that comes at hideous expense."
"Very compelling up close. Can I try them on?"
"I wouldn't think so, no." His hand moves to his neck protectively.
Get the drop on him.
With a subtle turn of your wrist, you aim your gun in your opposite number's direction.
"Full disclosure, I've got my gun pointed at you. Mind if I see yours a moment?"
The man shrugs, extracts a strange looking piece of artillery from his coat and passes it over.
A vertical clip running across the top, patterned guards on both sides and is that... two triggers? Verdict's in: this gun is far cooler than yours.
And you both know it.
Branch
"Another 'custom job'?"
"Alas." A conciliatory smile.
"How do you unload this thing?"
"Clip slides off the top. Release is under the right wing."
You find the latch and pop the clip off its rail. After a quick shake, a handful of rounds tumble into your palm.
Don't forget the one in the chamber.
Oh yeah. (Pull the slide back.)
The last little holdout leaps from the gun to join her siblings. You pocket the whole family with a jangle.
"You owe me thirteen rounds, bucko." He takes the gun back from you.
A BALLISTIC CUCKOLD.
"You're paying for your time at the table."
"Quite literally under the gun, it seems." He reholsters his weapon.
Branch
"We'll get to 'scores, evening of' later."
"Lead on, then." He reholsters his weapon.
"Thanks for the co-operation." (Pass the gun back.)
"You owe me twelve rounds, bucko."
You slip a hand into your pocket and attempt to twist your gun KALEIDOSCOPE-wards, but encounter some resistance in actually pointing it.
"Everything alright down there?"
"One moment, please."
Now the gun is jamming on fabric, and your hand is stuck around the gun. The left hand cavalry is called up -- tight fit in there.
"Could you look away?"
"Of course. Do let me know when your weapon is aimed in my direction." He dutifully turns his attention to the ceiling fan.
Both hands deep in the pocket now, no gun forthcoming. A finger or two brushes trigger.
Then you notice, with some alarm, that in all the excitement the gun has reversed itself and is now pointing directly up at you.
Disengage, disengage!
You slide both hands free, right one noticeably reddened from its prolonged tussle with the non-cooperative piece.
"All done?"
"For now."
"Bravo. Now, where were we?"
Branch
"No false moves, though. Or else." (Flap your pocket menacingly.)
"Deal. Only true moves between us, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"Deal. Only true moves between us, Hershel."
Leave your hands limply in your pocket.
Your agitated rustling stops as your hands hang uselessly in your cramped pocket.
"Why are you embarrassing me like this?" (Hiss into your pocket.)
Your gun offers little to no excuses for its behaviour.
"ONE MOMENT, PLEASE."
"In your own time." He turns his attention to the ceiling fan.
"Did you come heavy? Are you packing heat?"
"Of course." A small shrug. "I presume the same of you?"
There is a little vacuum of gun-shaped space beneath your coat.
Why aren't you armed, again? This man has already used his weapon on you once.
"I'm not, would you believe."
"I wouldn't have put money down on it, that's for sure."
"Don't worry, CASCADE. I came to talk, not shoot."
That adds up. Last time he just shot and never spoke a word.
Branch
"No discharges in the Fogged Mirror. House rules."
"Only ceramic projectiles allowed, if I've understood correctly."
"I have a sniper outside the window. No false movements." (Lie.)
"I'm not in range of any windows," a quick glance left and right, "but fine by me. Only true movements."
"I was expecting something more official than a postcard." (Get down to it.)
"Yet here you are." He studies you for a moment. "I understand you're in the market for secondhand goods. I'm interested in exotic imports. I was hoping we could explore a transaction."
Branch
That confirms it. He's after the popstar.
A massive sign marked 'NONCE' flashes red in your mind.
"I may have some experience in ultra exotics."
"Then I think we understand each other."
"Here's my pitch. I will get any and all information you want out of the Luzian prisoner."
"In return, you'll give me any and all information about the whereabouts of Ultra Violeta."
Branch
There it is. The moon.
"Steep opening position."
"Maybe so. But there will be no negotiation."
One postcard, no fax. The meeting place, your home turf. Before you is an operant gone way off script.
"Maybe so. But there will be no negotiation.""Then we hold very different values. Which has never precluded anyone from conducting business."Worth a shot."So please, drop the pretence.""So they're close, too." He looks troubled for a moment. "They don't kill on foreign ground unless they're…"I wouldn't rule it in or out. Depends on how well he'd treated Ultra Violeta.""Not my kind of flying." He looks at you evenly."Concerning." He looks troubled for a moment. "They don't kill on foreign ground unless they're desperate.…Of course he does. Perv factor off the charts."Tragically misguided.""Unthinkable.""Yes... Always enlightening to discover where finger is relative to pulse."
"This isn't a deal with EMTERR at all, is it? It's a deal with you."
"Well deduced. I come to you as a freelancer -- a mere vassal of the Queen." He spreads his arms slightly. "I would like to return her home, to Luz."
He's not playing with house money. He's got his own chips down.
Sounds pretty 'off the books'... Eszti's going to be even more mad at you now.
Branch
"What if she doesn't want to go home?"
"Of course she does," he replies, too quickly. "No echoes from the throne room... A hollow divide between monarch and subjects... She must return."
"I've stated my terms. What say you, bucko?"
"Of course she does," he replies, too quickly. "No echoes from the throne room... A hollow divide between…"Would that I could." He looks at you with some sympathy. "Maybe later. For now...""I detect a sliver of judgement.""It's not about me -- or about being 'nice'. It's about restoring order to the Ultra community.""Then you should have no stake in what's been done to her up until now."
"There's something perverted in the way you're speaking about all this."
"'Perverted'?" He looks genuinely shocked. "I'm afraid you've gravely misunderstood me."
"Alright, then help me understand."
"Would that I could." He looks at you with some sympathy. "Maybe later. For now..."
"No judgement here. Let's get back to this deal."
"I detect a sliver of judgement."
"Very considerate. What a very nice guy."
"It's not about me -- or about being 'nice'. It's about restoring order to the Ultra community."
"I don't care what you want to do with her."
"Then you should have no stake in what's been done to her up until now."
EMTERR is trying to defect Luz's most valuable cultural export. The play of plays!
"What does EMTERR want with this so-called Ultra Violeta?"
Alternative wording
"What does EMTERR want with Ultra Violeta?"
"They want to put her in a glass coffin and prick at her with instruments. Splay her mind. Unfold her dreams."
"But my aim is much more simple -- I would like to return her home. To Luz."
Update, apologies: He's actually gone rogue here and bypassed EMTERR completely.
"EMTERR wants to recruit V?"
"'... V'?"
"Yes, V. My friend V."
"So you've met her."
Branch
"Of course."
"I hope it was transcendent."
"EMTERR are not trying to defect... V..." He grimaces. "I'm sorry, that won't work for me. EMTERR are not trying to defect Ultra Violeta."
"So what do they want with her?"
Branch
"Jealous?"
"In the spirit of honest negotiation -- astronomically."
"Like that." (Cross two fingers together and brandish them in his face.)
"Impossible." He shakes his head like an animal bewildered.
"We have a major collab in the works."
"'Collab'... I had no idea you were a musician. I can only assume you've forced her to do this somehow." He shakes his head like an animal bewildered.
"Everyone calls her V, man."
"I do not." He looks at you evenly. "I take it from this that you've met her."
"Cheaper than I was expecting."
"Then we hold very different values. Which has never precluded anyone from conducting business."
"The missing popstar? What makes you think I know where she is?" (Bluff.)
"Because I suspect your friend Tempo del Sur has kidnapped her from Luz and is currently holding her hostage somewhere in this city."
"Who's Tempo?" (Bluff more.)
"The Opera asset. Your asset."
"You're talking crazy, man, wow." (Final bluff.)
"I think not."
Worth a shot.
"I see someone has it all figured out."
"So please, drop the pretence."
"Tempo del Sur is dead."
His eyes leave yours a moment, then return.
News to him.
"Weeping Eye?"
"That's my working theory. Zeroed out."
"So they're close, too." He looks troubled for a moment. "They don't kill on foreign ground unless they're desperate. All the more important we get this handled in good time."
"Maybe them. Maybe you."
"Not me. I wouldn't have killed him without finding out where he stashed the very thing I'm seeking."
"But you would've after."
"I wouldn't rule it in or out. Depends on how well he'd treated Ultra Violeta."
"Maybe you flew into a fit of rage."
"Not my kind of flying." He looks at you evenly.
Say nothing.
"Concerning." He looks troubled for a moment. "They don't kill on foreign ground unless they're desperate. All the more important we get this handled in good time."
"I saw your red disc. Big fan?"
"'Fan'..." His upper lip curls. "Such a debasing word for high-level artistic appreciation."
"Big connoisseur?"
"I prefer 'devotee'."
Of course he does. Perv factor off the charts.
"It's music for teenagers. You're debasing yourself."
"Tragically misguided."
"I bet you fan-shift and everything."
"Unthinkable."
Branch
"That Luzian popstar? How am I supposed to find her?"
"Your asset Tempo del Sur has her. I'm almost certain of it."
Woah! The TAXMAN making some serious post-mortem plays!
"This is big news, KALEIDOSCOPE!"
Alternative wording
"This is big news, Alastair!"
"Yes... Always enlightening to discover where finger is relative to pulse."
"Really?"
"Oh, that popstar. With you now." (Roll with it.)
"Deal. She was kidnapped by a gang of counter cultural radicals."
"That's the official line from La Luz, yes. A fairly obvious dispatch from the Propagandists, but still..."
"That's any and all information I have. Sorry. Now what've you got for me?" (Rub your palms together.)
"Stop playing games, please. I know your old asset Tempo del Sur has her somewhere. In fact, I'm certain of it."
"Cool, she's a pop-star, I think."
"I hadn't heard, tell me more."
"Her fans have a weird thing with mass suicide."
"I'm not 'one of those'."
"Ultra who?"
"You can't be serious?"
"Mega serious, sorry to disappoint."
"Ultra Violeta. One of the most famous L-Pop stars on the planet. Good god."
"... L-Pop?"
"Luzian. Electro. Pop."
"Why would I know anything about one of the most famous popstars on the planet?"
"You... That's... I'm almost certain your asset, Tempo del Sur, has kidnapped her and is holding her hostage somewhere in this city."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm open to the trade. Just need a little more info..."
"I'm staggered. Ultra Violeta. One of the most famous L-Pop stars on the planet..."
"Define 'exotic'."
"Exceptionally rare. The one-of-a-kind kind."
"I can do you a great deal on Superbloc socks."
"I don't go in for single colour socks."
"I wouldn't describe a political prisoner as a 'secondhand good', but then I'm no slave to the commodity-form."
"That 'political' part is subjective. Certainly from his vantage point."
"You know what... another time." [Leave.]
"I'll be here." He traces an illegible pattern on the table with a slow finger.
TYPICAL BOURGEOIS APPROACH TO THE DAY'S LABOUR -- COMMITTED ABSENTEEISM.
"When you have a moment -- hear me out."
"Fine cold day, bucko."
Alternative wording
"Fine cold evening, bucko."
The man doesn't alter his posture but follows your movement with unblinking eyes.
He's tense around the shoulders. Twitchy at the edges.
"Grubby little place, but it's got some colour to it." He gestures loosely around the bar.
"I'm a diehard patron, actually."
"I didn't mean it was a bad thing. A little grubbiness comes with the profession."
"Are we sticking to the trade names or daring fate with the real ones?"
Branch
A professional courtesy. He knows your real name. You gave it to his colleague under extreme duress.
"Well, we're definitely not going with 'bucko'."
"Then what will it be?"
"CASCADE."
"KALEIDOSCOPE." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties."
And doomed spies.
"KALEIDOSCOPE." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties.""KALEIDOSCOPE. Same styling." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties.""I'm sure she is." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties.""Well met, CASCADE." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties."
You know this man is partial to a loaded gun. Given your last encounter, you should be in control of the bullets.
"CASCADE, all caps."
"KALEIDOSCOPE. Same styling." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties."
"Hershel."
"Alastair. But I much prefer KALEIDOSCOPE, if it's all the same to you."
"Hershel's fine."
"I'm sure she is." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties."
"Okay, then, I'm CASCADE."
"Well met, CASCADE." He lifts his glass ten inches off the table. "To secret treaties."
Whatever you say, do not say 'Hershel'.
"It's not as good as it used to be."
"I have my suspicions that everything never is." He glances down into glass, then looks back at you.
"First time in Portofiro?"
"First time in this part of it, let's say."
Say nothing.
"Fair enough. Neither of us are here to discuss the city's social fabric."