Branch
Branch
"Hello, lapinette."
She smiles, indicates the seat to her left.
"Come, pretend to be real people with me for a while."
Alternative wording
"You owe me a date. Come, pretend to be real people with me for a while."
"SILHOUETTE."
"Bravo, you found my name. Now sit."
Alternative wording
"Bravo, you found my name. Now sit, you're getting soaked out there."
Alternative wording
"Oui, bravo. Now sit."
She isn't remotely surprised or on edge -- if there's such a thing as 'off-duty' in this business then you're looking at it.
"Got any plans with that red pen?"
"Not one. Now sit down." She lowers her voice. "No need for a scene."
Join her.
She leans in to you, your thighs touch on the bench.
"Welcome. Let me introduce you to our barman, Diego."
"Hello!"
"Not so fast, Diego." She taps her drink. "Let me also introduce you to the worst callomanic ever put to glass."
"Diego's very bad at his job."
Your mother's standard load out was also a callomanic.
Wrong type of glass for a callomanic, should be in a tulip.
"Not even the right type of glass."
"See, Diego? What are you?"
Alternative wording
"See, Diego? A sock trader from the Superbloc knows better than you. What are you?"
Alternative wording
"See, Diego? A poet knows better than you. What are you?"
"Incompetent."
"Here, lapinette, try a sip. But steel yourself.
Her eyes sparkle, delighted. She's inviting you to participate in the ritual humiliation of a third party.
Take a sip.
You sip the callomanic. It tastes exactly like a callomanic.
... Except for a lingering aftertaste of fucked-ness. You can't quite place it, but this callomanic is definitely FKD.
What's so bad about it?
Where to start? The balance is completely off. A good callomanic is a perfectly choreographed ballet of bracing mezcal and sharp lime, mellowed by the sweetness of the cherries and given herbaceous depth by the strawberry liqueur.
Here the lime strangles the strawberry and then drowns it in a bathtub of low-quality mezcal. Somehow the cherry is completely missing-in-action.
"Yep, would appear he fucked it."
"I certainly did, ma'am."
His Brave Face mask slips from the sweat underneath.
"Lift your chin, Diego. Your jawline is your one redeeming feature. Now, let's abandon the callomanics and opt for straight mezcal. Bring the bottle."
"Coming up, miss."
"Look what he's reduced us to. Sharing a bottle like two doe-eyed secretaries."
Branch
"What are you drinking to?"
"Our secret discipline."
Alternative wording
"Socks."
Alternative wording
"The Umbral Host."
Alternative wording
"Bourgeois poetry."
Alternative wording
"Silence."
Diego returns and deposits two tulip glasses and a bottle of mezcal in front of you.
As he removes his hand, a single sliver of sweat runs down the outside of the glass.
She's doing this to put you at ease -- but an unopened bottle can still be poisoned. Don't drink it.
She's drinking from the same bottle, you're fine. Get her drunk, make conversation, see what guts she'll spill.
"Come, talk to me. This is our little space. Let's cast off these silly personas, no need for them here."
Hers is crumpled on the floor beside her, discarded like a tight bra after a mid-week work day.
Branch
Put your hand on her thigh.
She smiles and downs her drink, moving closer to you.
She is into this. Use it. Flirt, get her drunk.
Hold the line gäng! We're within striking distance!
Branch
"Perhaps Diego's using a persona, too."
"Fear not, lapinette. I had the same idea myself and tested it out -- there's nothing behind those eyes. Watch. Diego!"
Diego glances at SILHOUETTE, eyes twitching like a dog.
"Yes, misses?"
"We're spies. I'm EMTERR and she's Opera. Those are the communists. What do you think of that?"
Alternative wording
"We're spies. I'm EMTERR and she's probably Opera. Those are the communists. What do you think of that?"
"Communists, misses?"
Raise your hand.
"You?"
"Me, Diego."
"I'd heard they were bad... but you don't look bad at all. Maybe I was told a lie."
"See? Now, back in your area, Diego."
"I knew that you were Superbloc the moment I saw you sniffing outside the magazine offices. It's the air of lost desperation."
Branch
"I knew that you were Superbloc the moment I saw you sniffing outside the magazine offices. It's the air of…"Interesting response, lapinette. Have I got you all wrong?" She takes you in, softly biting her lip. "No,…"Aw, look at that, lapinette -- you've hurt his feelings. Now back in your area, Diego."
"A person who'd rather perfect an idea than reality."
"Like a... wizard?"
"See what I mean? Now, back in your area, Diego."
"Interesting response, lapinette. Have I got you all wrong?" She takes you in, softly biting her lip. "No, don't tell me. Let's not ruin this with politics."
"They're the left side. Of the left-right spectrum."
"Oh, I know all about it. My brother's on the spectrum as well. Luckily I'm right-handed."
"A type of being immune to nature's obvious hierarchies."
"Like... lions?"
YES, DIEGO. LIKE LIONS.
"He's acting. Nobody is that stupid."
"I don't always remember my words right, miss. That's all."
"Aw, look at that, lapinette -- you've hurt his feelings. Now back in your area, Diego."
"Who are you, really?"
"Nobody, same as you."
"Nice to meet you." (Drink.)
The mezcal is light, airy, cold. She watches it disappear into your mouth.
Alternative wording
Your second shot goes down as well as the first, crisp and refreshing.
Alternative wording
Your body rebels slightly as you sink back the glass.
Alternative wording
You drain your glass, lightheaded. It sits unpleasantly in your stomach.
Alternative wording
You spill a little mezcal from your mouth as you swallow -- she wipes your chin with her thumb.
"Cheers." She downs her glass, refills them. "Now, no more questions with no answers, lapinette."
Branch
"I'm not nobody."
She drums her fingers on the bar, amused.
"Then you're in the wrong line of work. It must be painful to still hold onto the fantasy of being someone."
"No more questions with no answers, please."
"Weak answer. What are you afraid of?"
She looks quizzically at you, drumming her fingers.
"Self expression. Being known. Unself awareness." She laughs. "In many ways, it's easier being a made-up person. Even if you hate them."
"Sounds like you're not that fond of your persona."
"Mes étoiles, no! She's misty-eyed, nostalgic, sincere and tender. Makes me sick."
Relaxed, casual. She assumes you're like her, that you feel the same way.
Branch
"I happen to love my persona."
"Socks? A little more sexy than mine, at least. You get to play with feet all day."
Alternative wording
"The comic book thing? Laughable, but sounds a lot more fun than editing poetry."
Alternative wording
"I suppose writing poetry is a little more fun than editing it."
Branch
"Change it if you hate her so much.'
"I find that my hatred for her helps me stay in character, keep her distinct. Operants begin to... blur when they identify too much with their persona."
Branch
Like PSEUDOPOD, who seems to have entirely become his.
"Makes it easier to forgive yourself for the things you do on the job, too."
"I've never needed anybody's forgiveness, least of all my own. The idea is absurd -- you are in control over yourself."
This woman's reading a solid ZERO on the empath-o-meter.
A perfect operant.
Branch
"We forgot what a real human being was a long time ago. Everyone's pretending."
"I thought that, once. If everyone's wearing a mask, who can tell the difference? The mask becomes the face."
"But there are some, a rare few, who truly aren't. They're just... existing. Maybe that's you and I, lapinette. Maybe."
"Too complicated. I only need lies and missile strikes."
"Ma lapinette... You make me wish you were with us. If only everyone were so focused and straightforward."
Branch
She puts her hand on yours briefly as she moves it further up your thigh.
Branch
"Your relationship with your false identity reifies your own."
"Exactly. And my own is a secret to all but myself. And now, you. Cheers."
She clinks her glass against yours.
Join her. (Drink.)
The mezcal is light, airy, cold. She watches it disappear into your mouth.
Alternative wording
Your second shot goes down as well as the first, crisp and refreshing.
Alternative wording
Your body rebels slightly as you sink back the glass.
Alternative wording
You drain your glass, lightheaded. It sits unpleasantly in your stomach.
Alternative wording
You spill a little mezcal from your mouth as you swallow -- she wipes your chin with her thumb.
"Bravo." She slaps the table and drinks.
Branch
"I'll just watch."
"Ah, you're that type!" She giggles and drinks. "Tiresome."
"Was the interrogatrix a persona, too?"
"In a way. It's all just work, I have to pretend I care who you are and what you want with our basement -- but don't worry, my pleasure was real."
She swallows the contents of her glass, nods at yours.
Drink.
The vodka is light, airy, cold. She watches it disappear into your mouth.
Alternative wording
Your second shot goes down as well as the first, crisp and refreshing.
Alternative wording
Your body rebels slightly as you sink back the glass.
Alternative wording
You drain your glass, lightheaded. It sits unpleasantly in your stomach.
Alternative wording
You spill a little vodka from your mouth as you swallow -- she wipes your chin with her thumb.
"Bravo, lapinette."
Branch
"Not right now."
"Fine, fine."
"Working at a literary magazine must be awful."
"It is despair, ma lapinette."
"I don't want to talk about it. Truly, I loathe them all."
Branch
"I liked her that way. It was sweet."
"I can't answer that for you. I thought you would know."
Her expression changes into the sweet, blank smile of her persona.
"I'm just here to learn... The more advanced sonnets are still way over my head." She giggles like a school girl.
Branch
"Enough about personas." (Back.)
"Yes, please."
Branch
"I met Oskar Metamoto. Is that really your top negotiator?"
"Yes... I'm afraid he's in love again. With a woman, and less tragically, with alcohol."
Branch
"He's usually better at his job, I take it."
"Unrecognisably competent. The man carries on at an impossible clip for years at a time... punctuated with a few weeks of total and utter collapse."
Branch
"Lolita's ginormity was revealed to me in a strange vision."
"I'm not surprised. He gets so miserable that the air around him festers with it." she drinks. "His obsessions are always huge."
"Latent suicidal ideation -- he wants to be crushed."
"There's a little of the masochist in us all, I think."
Branch
She squeezes your hand between her thighs.
Branch
"Very incautious. She could be a dozen midget assassins in a suit."
"I don't care for whimsy, lapinette."
Alternative wording
"I told you -- I do not care for whimsy."
"Both a lover and a human shield, very efficient."
"So cold, lapinette. I like that about you. People can be so sentimental."
"Makes sense that a man who lives in shadows craves someone substantial."
"Beautifully put, lapinette. I prefer a slender frame myself..." She pouts at you. "But the jiggling can be quite mesmerising."
"He's a good soul. Love's most ardent champion!"
"No -- he's an old fool having a breakdown. But he'll be back to himself before long."
Branch
"This happens to him often, then?"
"Down your glass and I'll tell you the story. It's a good one."
"Okay, sure." (Drink.)
The mezcal is light, airy, cold. She watches it disappear into your mouth.
Alternative wording
Your second shot goes down as well as the first, crisp and refreshing.
Alternative wording
Your body rebels slightly as you sink back the glass.
Alternative wording
You drain your glass, lightheaded. It sits unpleasantly in your stomach.
Alternative wording
You spill a little mezcal from your mouth as you swallow -- she wipes your chin with her thumb.
She tips her glass to you, drains it, and refills both.
"Three years ago, Solar Point. Metamoto's out on an assignment when he disappears -- last seen entering a public bathhouse."
Solar Point: a small coastal area of Lágundi, a Luzian colony famous for luxury tourist resorts.
"When you say 'bathhouse'..."
"You should picture an orgiastic ritual of sweat and steam, yes."
"Days pass. We dispatch an asset to retrieve him. He's not in the pools, nor the lockers, nor sequestered behind some crusty hole in a bathroom wall."
"You mean a 'fuck hole'?"
"Oui, ma lapinette. A 'fuck' hole."
You're full of fuck holes. At least three of them. So is she.
"Eventually the asset finds Metamoto in a storage cupboard -- naked but for his shoes, which he has tied together in a way which allows him to hang upside down from a coat hook. Like a bat."
"Like a bat?"
"Like a bat. Asset tries to wake him but Metamoto isn't having any of it. Yells at the boy to leave him alone, that he is a 'moperant' and will be activated at dusk."
"Dusk comes, our asset is still in the cupboard, cowering among the buckets and detergents."
"Like a bat. Asset tries to wake him but Metamoto isn't having any of it. Yells at the boy to leave him…"A big, meaty bat, let's say. Asset tries to wake him but Metamoto isn't having any of it. Yells at the boy…"Way. Asset tries to wake him but Metamoto isn't having any of it. Yells at the boy to leave him alone, that…
All the useful things together.
"When in walks a gigantic woman. So big that she can pick Metamoto up by the ankles -- which she does -- and swing him bodily around -- which she does." She mimes a sweeping motion with her hands.
You could attempt this with precisely none of your assets. They're all too big.
Be good to give Eszti a hard spin. Shut her up for a while.
"Seems inefficient."
"Vraiment. Can't wring out a human being -- I've tried. She used him to mop the entire bathhouse every night for a week. Until he became so waterlogged that she had to replace him."
"Apparently," she leans in, "he was rigid as a frozen sardine the whole time."
"Vraiment. Can't wring out a human being -- I've tried. She used him to mop the entire bathhouse every night…"Don't be repulsive. She used him to mop the entire bathhouse every night for a week. Until he became so…"Doesn't it just? She used him to mop the entire bathhouse every night for a week. Until he became so…
"That's also how he got the hair. She dangled him upside down and it's been like that ever since. I don't know whether it's permanent or he styles it that way himself in homage."
"What was it like before?"
"I don't know, normal. One doesn't really notice hair unless it's doing something outlandish, non?"
Branch
"Perverts, great for the economy."
She downs her glass.
"You can sell anything to a fool with an erection."
"Mop hair... Admirable unity of desire and functionality."
"It is... unwise to wear one's personality like that. Even though sometimes it can be compelling."
She cups your face and brushes her thumb gently over your dark undereye.
Her hand is cold, but the movement feels tender.
"Everything would be easier if mops and moppers were distinguished early on."
"Over my career with the bank I have met several people who would agree with you. Human traffickers, mostly."
WITHIN EVERYONE IS MOP AND MOPPER -- A TRUE REVOLUTIONARY KEEPS BOTH HANDS FIRMLY ON THEIR OWN SHAFT.
"Bet it feels great to be used like that."
"Don't be repulsive. She used him to mop the entire bathhouse every night for a week. Until he became so waterlogged that she had to replace him."
"I need smaller assets, that sounds fun."
"Doesn't it just? She used him to mop the entire bathhouse every night for a week. Until he became so waterlogged that she had to replace him."
"Sounds more like a slab of meat."
"A big, meaty bat, let's say. Asset tries to wake him but Metamoto isn't having any of it. Yells at the boy to leave him alone, that he is a 'moperant' and will be activated at dusk."
"No way."
"Way. Asset tries to wake him but Metamoto isn't having any of it. Yells at the boy to leave him alone, that he is a 'moperant' and will be activated at dusk."
"He seemed... classier than that."
"Usually he is, yes. But when he slumps off the wagon, well."
"I'd have left him for dead by then."
"As would I, but alas."
"What assignment sends you to a place like that?"
"There are a great many benefits to carrying out negotiations in the nude, lapinette."
"Solar Point?"
"A beach in Lágundi. White sand, rum-filled coconuts, and expensive sodomy."
"I don't want to drink, just tell me."
"No."
Flirtatious but firm, she won't talk unless you play along.
"I don't want to know." (Back.)
"Not a gossip? Odd trait for an Operant."
Branch
"Let's not talk about Oskar." (Back.)
"Sad case. Let's move on."
Branch
"Alright, tell me the Metamoto story." (Down your drink.)
The mezcal is light, airy, cold. She watches it disappear into your mouth.
Alternative wording
Your second shot goes down as well as the first, crisp and refreshing.
Alternative wording
Your body rebels slightly as you sink back the glass.
Alternative wording
You drain your glass, lightheaded. It sits unpleasantly in your stomach.
Alternative wording
You spill a little mezcal from your mouth as you swallow -- she wipes your chin with her thumb.
Branch
"Are we just going to pretend you didn't torture me?"
"Au contraire, you're supposed to remember it very well. And you'd have done the same to me."
"You say that because you can't see into the complex depths of my heart."
"You've been reading the NosCorrentes." she shudders. "The whole thing sounds like that."
Alternative wording
"That poetry cover of yours is getting to you. I'd cut it out, quickly before you realise you can't stop."
Branch
"You've been reading the NosCorrentes." she shudders. "The whole thing sounds like that.""I don't care for whimsy, lapinette. And my tits are quite soft, I'll have you know.""I hope you show me one day. I might even give you a little go on the pen." She fingers the red stick around…"Thrilling, isn't it?" She runs her hands over her thighs. "An increasingly rare sensation, I find.…
"Your wires are showing, electro-tits."
"I don't care for whimsy, lapinette. And my tits are quite soft, I'll have you know."
Alternative wording
"I told you -- I do not care for whimsy. And my tits are quite soft, I'll have you know."
"Wrong. I'd have done worse."
"I hope you show me one day. I might even give you a little go on the pen." She fingers the red stick around her neck.
"I preferred being on the receiving end, feeling close to death."
"Thrilling, isn't it?" She runs her hands over her thighs. "An increasingly rare sensation, I find. Especially when you work in poetry."
"One of your colleagues shot at me. Big headphones. Know him?"
Alternative wording
"One of your colleagues shot me. Big headphones. Know him?"
"Are you trying to make me jealous?"
She takes a long sip, considering you over the rim of her glass.
"I don't really know him, he's an out-of-towner here for the secret treaty. Can't help but wonder what he's compensating for with those headphones, though."
"Apparently he always keeps them on."
"You mean... during?"
She laughs, claps her hands together.
"I suppose he's handsome but... why would anybody allow that? Maybe it's a dominance thing. I once had a woman who let me put a rolled-up copy of the literary review inside her. Pathetic."
"Was it Haya?"
"It was not." She looks at you evenly.
Branch
"I should do that to you."
"You know I wouldn't allow it. But I like that you offered."
A slight flush to her cheeks -- she really did like that you offered.
"I hope you left her."
"Of course I did. C'est dommage, I'd quite liked her before she let me make a mailbox of her pussy."
Get us the fuck away from this mäd bitch! But also! Höt! The gäng is divided!
"Why do it if you didn't like it?"
"I wanted to find out who she was, of course. C'est dommage, I'd quite liked her before that. And I liked her a little bit during." She grins.
"His aim, probably. Bullet didn't even graze me."
"Really? Bravo, lapinette. I know him mainly by reputation and his reputation is quite good. You must be fast. To your speed."
She lifts her glass, watches you.
Drink.
The mezcal is light, airy, cold. She watches it disappear into your mouth.
Alternative wording
Your second shot goes down as well as the first, crisp and refreshing.
Alternative wording
Your body rebels slightly as you sink back the glass.
Alternative wording
You drain your glass, lightheaded. It sits unpleasantly in your stomach.
Alternative wording
You spill a little mezcal from your mouth as you swallow -- she wipes your chin with her thumb.
She smiles, swallows her vodka, refills your glasses.
"You're so much more fun than Frederik. And look! We're not even standing up."
Branch
"I'm faster sober."
"You plan to run away? Shame."
"Want to see the scar?"
"Always."
You show her your wounded flesh, raised and weeping. She touches it gently, voice lowered to a sympathetic whisper.
"Beautiful. Isn't it? I've never been shot."
A touch of regret in her voice.
"You want to be shot?"
"I... suppose not. But then again perhaps I do. I would like to know what it feels like to be afraid. Nothing interesting ever happens in Portofiro."
Branch
"It isn't pleasant."
"No, it doesn't look it. But I envy you the experience."
"I could shoot you if you like."
"It would draw too much attention, but thank you for thinking of my needs."
Branch
"I think they're cool."
"C'est dommage."
Branch
"He's just obsessed with music. Ultra Violeta, specifically."
"The sad-faced L-Pop girl? Ahaha, how interesting. She is very beautiful, even if the relentless whining is so off-putting."
"Given the right space and about ten hours, I could make her a woman."
Branch
"I know your sister."
Branch
She brushes your hand off her thigh and looks at you head on.
"Is that a threat?"
Branch
She clicks her tongue.
The sound makes you wince.
"Stop doing that you sadistic capitalist hellpig."
"If you force me to ask difficult questions, I will do so in the manner that produces answers."
"No, of course not. She's innocent."
"Do you mean that, lapinette?"
Her hazel eyes soften as they stare into yours.
The colour melting, pouring into you, looking for evidence of a lie.
"I think you do." she drinks. "Good. You really would have ruined this otherwise."
Branch
"Kids, too. Boy and a girl, left unattended a lot..."
"You're ruining this, lapinette." Her voice sharpens. "Don't end it too quick."
"Less threats, more... seduce. Let's try that."
Her posture straightens, as if she's ready to fight you -- but she's afraid.
"You don't seem surprised that Frederik isn't here."
"The crown prince of limbs. You make a much better date."
"This isn't a date you stupid liberal."
"My heart, lapinette. It shatters."
She doesn't care at all.
"Let's not talk about Frederik. He is to espionage what Diego is to cocktails."
The barman winces at the sound of his name.
"Diego, what do you think of my friend, here?"
"What do you mean, miss?"
"Would you fuck her, Diego? Should I?"
"Don't answer that, Diego."
"Uhh... okay."
"What about you, lapinette?" Her eyes find yours. "Would you give Diego a go-go?"
"He's standing right there. He can hear what I say."
"Of course. Ears aren't the missing ingredient, are they, Diego?"
"No, miss. Ears are fine."
"Yeah, I probably would."
The barman blushes and quickly turns back to the glass he continues to polish.
"We're very much talking in the abstract, don't start gunning the engine."
The barman nods and grins at you.
"Back to your area, Diego. But think on!"
"Thinking on, miss!"
Branch
"Not remotely my speed."
"Hear that, Diego? Poor innings for you this evening."
"Very poor, miss." He polishes a glass.
"No idea, I've said about two words to him."
"Coincidentally, he only speaks in two word sentences."
"No, but I would give you several go-gos."
"How sweet of you." She holds your gaze in hers.
"No need for me here, I see, misses."
"You're going to let him decide?"
"Please... no."
"Diego. I need an answer."
"I would... uhh... do whatever you say, miss. And you too."
"Aha! An unexpectedly good answer."
"It is I who wouldn't fuck either of you."
"Thank you."
Visibly relieved.
"Yeah, Diego, what do you think?"
"I... I don't."
"I'm hotter, too."
"I know, I've seen you with your top off." She blows you a kiss.
"Did you know he's obsessed with a phone sex line?"
"He is? No!" She laughs, hand covering her mouth. "That's hilarious. I did not. I didn't even know he knew what sex is."
"He calls you 'The Priestess of the Gap'."
"As in... the gap in his schedule? Ahahaha. Magnifique."
"I dropped in on your apartment, number seven. You weren't home."
Branch
"Ha. I should've known it was you."
Alternative wording
"You wrote 'spy' on my door, right? Silly of you. It's bad for all of us when the public gets paranoid, but not to worry -- I fixed it quickly."
Alternative wording
"Oink oink. Should've known it was you."
No change in expression or posture. She seems genuinely unperturbed.
Branch
"Shame, I would've invited you in."
"Did you read that book your sister loaned you -- The Shadow Mother?"
Branch
Her hand jerks on your thigh.
"My sister? Is that a threat?"
Hackles up. Eyes colder.
"Just a psychology textbook, I think."
"It's an accusation in a dust jacket."
She sighs and looks beyond you, into the neon-singed night of Party Alley.
"I have no use for that book. Our childhood was idyllic and legible, completely devoid of weird subtext."
She takes a drink -- a longer one than usual.
"That's very interesting. It reminds me of you."
"Let's be clear: You don't actually know anything about me, comprendre, lapinette?"
Branch
"If someone loans you a book you should at least pretend to read it."
"I thought we were being honest with each other here, lapinette? I do enough reading in the fucking magazine."
"Forget it, just wondering."
"Why don't you wonder about what's right in front of you?"
"It's a question. Quite a tame one."
"My sister has nothing to do with this." She flicks her forefinger between you. "Leave her to her psycho-delving."
"Absolutely."
"Watch your little lapin step, lapinette. It's a short, unscenic trip to my basement office."
She startles in her seat.
"I don't have time for this. I need gap-related information." (Proceed.)
Alternative wording
"I do need some information from you about this gap." (Proceed.)
Alternative wording
"SILHOUETTE. The gap. Can we bring this back to the gap, please." (Proceed.)
Alternative wording
"I'm getting massively turned on, but sadly we must talk about the gap." (Proceed.)
"So boring. Fine, pump me for information. But I want something in return..."
Alternative wording
"Already? So impatient... fine. Pump me for information. But I want something in return..."
Alternative wording
"Fine. Take the fun out of it. Pump me for information. But I want something in return..."
Alternative wording
"Okay, ma lapinette. Good things can't last forever. Time to pump me for information, right? But I want something in return..."
"I'd say you owe me, for last time."
"Oh poor thing. Hurt feelings, is that it?"
"Hurt body. Electric shocks."
"Some of them felt good. I know it." So..."
"You could... teach Diego here how to make a proper callomanic..."
"Or, if you'd like something less impossible, you could kiss me."
Deep. Tongue.
Ten inches and your lips will meet hers.
She desperately wants this.
According to her, the bartender's basically an un-programmed augmentoid. Get in there and pilot him.
Branch
"Why's EMTERR so keen to help me? What does the bloody hand of transnational capital want here?"
"What money always wants: A stable business climate."
"Call it a hedge against a shift in market conditions. Right now the Luzian stock is rising, but if that were to change, well..."
Melita's voice in your ear: 'The Bank will always deal'.
Branch
"You don't want to be caught empty handed."
"We're the Bank. If we've got nothing in our hands, we've definitely got a lot in the stable."
"You think EMTERR is some blank-faced monolith, but its secret genius has always been the fire-screen between its many departments. Global Situations, Shadow Banking, Human Capital, each its own vicious little fiefdom."
"It ensures that we cover every side of every wager. Even against ourselves."
OF COURSE THIS IS HOW THE BANKERS OPERATE. NO CONVICTION, RIDDLED WITH CONTRADICTIONS. IDEOLOGICAL DRESS-UP DOLLS.
"Meaning you have no permission to tell me what you're about to tell me."
"Of course not. It's a gamble." She runs a quick hand up the inside of your thigh. "Like everything."
"Lapinette... It is high time to accept that this is the best of all possible worlds."
Her face adjusts, then sets. She believes this.
"No cataclysmic wars, no mass death from famine or plague. An abundance of goods unknown to earlier forms of humanity..."
"Latour-Woolgar is a curse that must be broken."
"Ooohhh, a spooky capitalist spell to make people prefer having six kinds of laundry detergent to choose from instead of dying of manmade famine. Yes, must be witchcraft."
She raises her glass and holds your gaze.
"Ooohhh, a spooky capitalist spell to make people prefer having six kinds of laundry detergent to choose from…"You expect the times you live in to give your existence meaning -- better to look inward, on your own time.""Let me tell you a deep dark secret: People like nice things. You know what actual people find fulfilling? An…
"To History. Fondly remembered."
Branch
"Maybe you're right. I do like my abundance of goods."
"Don't we all. Apartments with modern conveniences... a little tuk-tuk to stuff with children... a decent callomanic in the evenings." She glances pointedly at Diego, who withers.
She turns back to you and raises her glass.
"This century has made us soft and spiritually vacant. We must be melted down and reforged into something new."
"You expect the times you live in to give your existence meaning -- better to look inward, on your own time."
"Poetry's shit, though."
"Let me tell you a deep dark secret: People like nice things. You know what actual people find fulfilling? An apartment with modern conveniences and a little tuk-tuk to stuff their children into."
"You should try central planning, way more efficient."
"I'd take poetry over that. Any day." She runs a quick hand up the inside of your thigh.
"I prefer my monoliths blank-faced. More monolithic that way."
"Lapinette, the things private equity would do to you if only you'd say the word..." She shivers a little bit.
"What will it take to convince you that this is the best of all possible worlds?"
"Don't lie, it's because you're bewitched by my charms."
"Semi-bewitched only, I'm afraid." She grins.
"Are you investing in me? Hershel, OÜ."
"I am quite invested, lapinette, yes."
"I don't really care about your motivations, I was just practicing small talk."
"Boo hoo."
"I know where you live."
"Yes, yes. And where I work, and who I really work for... You got me, lapinette, sealed and done."
"Now, please... can't we have a little fun with it?"
FUN IS BOURGEOIS.
Branch
Pilot Diego.
Get in his brain, yank his wires. There can't be more than three of them.
Flip open his mind-hatch.
"Wha-ooooh."
The inside of his skull is sparse yet comfortable -- a control panel arranged around a large leather recliner. Sparks of electricity drip from the ceiling.
Where is... the usual pilot?
You mean Diego? Who knows. Get those buttons pressed.
Sit in the chair.
The leather envelops you, soft and well-worn. The panel's screen flashes a big smiley face.
It's janky, but it must work. Start pulling levers and shit.
Branch
Press 'Speak'.
"Hello!"
"Is that you making him talk? Excellent!"
Alternative wording
"Yes yes, I got it the first time."
Alternative wording
"The drink, lapinette."
Alternative wording
"You're making this tedious."
Alternative wording
"Stop it, now."
Branch
Press 'Mix and Pour Protocol'.
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The button opens a compartment in the console, from which emerges a long and complicated arm -- unfolding like metal origami until a single list lies in front of you. It's a drinks menu.
The words 'mezcal', 'lime', 'strawberry liqueur', and 'cherries (?)' each light up orange as you press the buttons to their sides.
The buttons go down with a satisfying thunk thunk thunk.
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Get a glass!
Branch
Mix and pour into what, you meatfucker? Get a glass.
Pull lever for 'Glass'.
Diego watches, bemused, as his hand retrieves a glass from the bar.
Branch
Press 'Add Cherries'.
You reach to the far left and jab the button marked 'Cherries (?)'. It's stiff, as if never pressed before.
Branch
Press 'Eject'. [Proceed.]
You flip the switch marked 'EJECT'. The chair propels you straight out the top of his skull.
"Woah." He shakes his head. "Sorry, misses. What happened?"
"Nothing, don't worry about it."
"I'll try not to."
"Let me try that..."
She reaches over and takes a sip of the callomanic, watching you all the while.
"Ahaha, it actually tastes like a real callomanic. Not quite the best, but still -- passable. Merci."
Alternative wording
"Lapinette, bravo! You even got the cherry. Best cocktail I have ever tasted in Portofiro."
"I'm glad you like it."
Branch
"The mysterious gap isn't that mysterious... the Grand Lich and his entourage will visit the Luzian War Criminal shrine, at the top of Portofiro."
Branch 481"Manus fati.""I do. Which is why I'm going to tell you what I know.""I did, until just then. Don't worry, I'll tell you what I know -- even though I don't know more than anybody…"I did. And now I don't." She winks. "Don't worry, I'll tell you what I know -- even though I don't know more…"Redeeming yourself a little, I see. But it's still a 'no'. Don't worry, I'll tell you what I know -- even…Branch 572Branch 624
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Execution site. Marked. Cordoned off with banishment seals.
FASCISM WILL BLEED UPON A MONUMENT TO ITSELF.
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"They call it a 'pilgrimage', I call it 'group masturbation'... either way, that is where Facundo Reyes will be. When he will be there, you'll have to procure from other sources. They haven't told me."
Beside you, Diego puts down one glass and picks up another.
"Probably to prevent the exact type of incident you have in mind."
Branch
This is information that you already had... but now you know you're not a step behind.
"I hope this was everything you hoped for." She smiles. "In another life, lapinette."
Alternative wording
"I hope this was everything you hoped for." She winces as she readjusts her bleeding foot. "In another life, lapinette."
Blow her a kiss.
She smiles, sadly, and turns to her drink.
Alternative wording
The rain hits you as you depart, bringing you back to the city.
Branch
End of this branch
Point a finger gun at her.
She recoils slightly -- then composes herself and turns to her drink.
Alternative wording
The rain hits you as you depart, bringing you back to the city.
"We should do this again."
"Probably should. Definitely won't."
She smiles, sadly, and turns to her drink.
Alternative wording
The rain hits you as you depart, bringing you back to the city.
"This life was enough."
You hear her laugh and call for Diego as you leave.
Alternative wording
The rain hits you as you depart, bringing you back to the city.
Your controller needs to know about this.
Branch
The information. Not the kiss.
"They call it a 'pilgrimage', I call it 'group masturbation'... either way, that is where Facundo Reyes will be. When he will be there, you'll have to procure from other sources. They haven't told me."
Branch
"So start talking."
"I climbed inside your useless head and made you my tool."
"As long as the customer is happy, miss!"
"We bonded."
"I'm very happy to hear that, miss."
Has to be a wheel or a lever or something to pull, get into his cockpit.
Flip open his skull, get into his brain.
Inside of his skull is a control panel arranged around a large leather recliner. Sparks of electricity drip from the ceiling. A tiny Diego sits in the chair, looking at you with a half-smile.
Fuck is he doing in here? Get him out.
"Sorry Diego, I'm taking over."
"Uhh, no miss."
Pull him out of the chair.
You tug on his shirt, trying to yank him upright. You slide toward him over the floor, he remains unmoved.
"Out! My turn!"
"No, miss. It's laws, I could lose my licence."
Pull harder.
You seize his forearms and pull. He watches sympathetically.
"Sorry, miss. You got to go."
He presses a button marked 'Eject'. A panel beneath you disappears and you fall, a million miles or a few yards, back to your seat.
"What was all that about?"
"He's stronger than he looks."
"Vraiment? But he looks so strong indeed."
"I'm going back to my area, now."
Branch
"Nothing. I was thinking about lunch."
"I hope never to discover the truth."
"You ejected me, Diego, you bastard!"
"I'm sorry miss. That was very creepy."
Tongue the enemy.
Branch
You lift your mask with one hand and cup her chin with the other, bringing her toward you.
AW YEA, THE GÄNG GETS SÖME.
She smiles and allows herself to be drawn in, but right on the cusp, raises her finger to your lips. She presses it gently against them as if to shush you.
"Almost, ma lapinette."
In an apartment block in a suburb of Novessa, twenty minutes by commuter rail, a middle aged woman watches a few seconds of a heavily censored erotic thriller before changing the channel. An open can of treacly liqueur has gone warm next to her.
She closes her eyes and kisses the other side of her finger. Your lips almost touch.
"Why not?"
"Manus fati."
"I thought you liked me."
"I do. Which is why I'm going to tell you what I know."
You cup her chin, soft but firm, and pull her in toward you.
Branch
You lift your mask and pout your lips, ready for the big sexy betrayal.
Forgive us, Melita!
"Ahahaha! Non, lapinette, non. I can't believe you were really going to."
"But I appreciate the attempt."
"You're mean. I thought you liked me."
"I did, until just then. Don't worry, I'll tell you what I know -- even though I don't know more than anybody else."
"Why did you ask for a kiss if you didn't want one?"
"I did. And now I don't." She winks. "Don't worry, I'll tell you what I know -- even though I don't know more than anybody else."
Try again.
She puts her hand out and holds your face still.
"Redeeming yourself a little, I see. But it's still a 'no'. Don't worry, I'll tell you what I know -- even though I don't know more than anybody else."
"Ahahaha! Non, lapinette, non."
She pulls your mask back down over your chin and pats the top of your head.
You pout your lips and lean forward -- preparing your soul for the big, sexy betrayal.
Use Duchess's technique on her.
You let your mind shatter, fall and coalesce into a pulsating swarm of you. It throngs into her, seeking all the empty spaces.
"Mmm, lapinette. I feel you in there, you know. Let me help..."
Alternative wording
"Mmm, lapinette. I feel you in there, you know. You must have learned this from my sister, but we perfected it together. Let me help..."
You feel her presence alongside you, holding you, guiding you inside her.
With her help, you feel a shape. Stone, a carved face... at the bottom a small photo frame... then another... and another... tens, hundreds... above you, the stars weigh heavy on the black sky...
The gap can fit a whole shrine in there?
"A shrine."
Branch
"This isn't real, you made this to show me."
"Oui. Still, I'm impressed that you could find it at all. Can you tell what it is?"
You clear your mind, emptying and elevating yourself, becoming light like mist over the ocean. You pour over her, into her, finding all the empty spaces.
"Mmm, lapinette. I feel you in there, rummaging around... What do you find?"
You stretch and fold, seeking a shape to occupy. But every time you meet a solid edge, it folds away.
This woman isn't a person occupied by empty spaces; she's an empty space occupied by personas.
"Yucky!"
"You find it repulsive? C'est dommage... I thought you already knew."
Branch
"Were you always like that?"
"For as long as I can remember. C'est dommage... I thought we might be the same."
"There's something wrong with you..."
"Wrong? Ah, c'est dommage. I misrecognised you."
"Hot."
"Actually, it's very, very cold."
(Draw your weapon.) "There's a gun pointing at you right now. What do you say to that?"
The woman leans back and glances under the table.
Branch
"Wh- whahahaha... sorry, sorry... hahaha." she pulls herself together, eyes watering. "What is that? Did you make it yourself?"
Don't listen to her, doohickey, you're awesome!
"Diego, look at this! She has a contraption."
"Oh, very nice miss. What is it?"
"It's my professional weaponry."
"It looks like several jokes taped together by a child."
"I think it looks pretty cool. Good effort, miss."
Fucking hell, Diego pities us.
"Bet it doesn't even fire."
Branch
"You don't seem bothered by this situation."
"I'm not, really. Besides... we're far too public for a hardcore power fantasy."
Branch
Shoot to wound.
Muzzle angled down, the trajectory roughly calculated -- it only takes the gentlest kiss of your finger against the trigger.
The gun kicks as the bullet breaks free.
The woman opposite you gasps. Her eyes well up as she stifles a scream against the palm of her hand.
Glance under the table to check your handiwork.
There is a hole in the toe of her left rain boot. Her whole leg is shaking.
"I am a thug. And so are you."
She pillows her head in her arms on the counter for a moment. Wincing, she sits up straight and smooths her hair back from her face with a deep, laboured breath.
She's tough. Respect.
Diego stares straight ahead, stiffened in fear, eyes wide and animal.
Branch
"Look at that, lapinette... appears it does work..."
You've been doohickeyed, bitch.
"I suppose you think I deserved that... bringing you on a nice date, being very open with you about secret things..."
"You think you didn't?"
"Possibly. I thought I'd enjoy it more, at least... Did it have to be my fucking foot?"
Twenty-six bones and no major blood vessels. She should be thanking you.
THAT'S WHY LIBERALISM GAVE YOU TWO.
"I can aim higher up next time." (Cock your weapon.)
"I said you made your point." She exhales sharply, shuddering with agony.
Branch
"The gap. Get talking."
"I thought we were talking." She winces with the pain.
"That's for the electric shocks. Now we're even."
Before you can calculate the trajectory of your shot, your finger slips.
The gun kicks as the bullet breaks free. The woman lurches forward, her eyes wide and glassy.
"What... did..."
Blood gush. Death rush.
"Oh no... Oh god..."
Somewhere in the dark outside -- screaming. At first it's one person, then it's all of them.
"B-b... bitch."
"Alright. I can be civilised." (Holster the gun.)
"I thought you might have it in you." She plays with the red pen around her neck.
Branch
"It's nothing." (Put it away.)
"Never mind, Diego. It's nothing at all. Away, barman!"
"Don't worry, lapinette. I'll pretend I never saw it."
She won't. You can feel it, her knowledge of the doohickey. It weighs more than usual.
Branch
"It's not that bad. It was hard!"
"Making things is very hard, miss. I know it."
"Contraption still works, bitch."
"Ma lapinette... I'm not even sure what it's supposed to do."
"Oh please. Don't embarrass yourself. You're not going to discharge a weapon in the middle of Portofiro."
"I discharge where I please."
"Hot."
"Thought it might be hot to do a hostage roleplay thing..." (Put the gun away.)
"Don't we roleplay enough in our daily lives? Come on, do something else."
Branch
"Alright, what do you want?"
She glances around, humming happily as she does.
"I'm not giving you anything."
She ignores you and glances around, humming happily as she does.
Gently squeeze her thigh.
She places her hand on yours and glances around, humming happily as she does.
"I'm not drinking."
"Don't be dull."
"You're a real bitch."
"Mais oui."
"I can't stay long, let's get straight to it."
"Such an eager lapinette -- a little foreplay at the very least. Please?"
Say nothing.
"Is silence supposed to be intriguing? It isn't."
Alternative wording
"I'm not interrogating you anymore. You don't have to do that."
"It's fine. Thank you, Diego."
"Thank you, miss."
"Incompetents both of you. Nobody in this city respects a good tincture."
"Now, Diego, please debase yourself further with two more callomanics." She pauses. "Actually, no, you've done enough damage on that front. Just straight mezcal, bring the bottle."
"It's delicious, best I ever tasted."
"Thank you, miss."
"Mystifying."
Fucked. Got it.
Fucked and left to sleep alone. There's not even a cherry.
"Dolphins have pissed a more convincing callomanic than this."
"They... have?"
His eyebrows meet in the middle as he contemplates this new aspect of being.
"Aha, excellent ma lapinette."
"I'll pass on the defective cocktail."
"Wiser than I. Diego. We'll resort to straight mezcal. Bring the bottle."
"Looks fine to me."
"Try it. And steel yourself."
Don't let your guard down.
"Hello, Zoe."
"Can I help you?"
The young woman smiles up at you, knowing.
Branch
The intern from the literary magazine.
"Oh, hello. I was expecting someone... else."
"For the record, I never believed you were a poet."
She winks, her finger tracing the rim of her glass -- she thinks you're in on a secret.
This is SILHOUETTE.
"SILHOUETTE?"
"Very good. Now come, sit down -- pretend to be real people with me for a while."
Alternative wording
"Very good. Now come, sit down and pretend to be real people with me for a while. You're getting soaked out there."
Sit down.