"Back again."

"Back again."

"Eszti, please accept this card as a token of my contrition."

"Oh, Hershel." She reads the note, a smile growing on her face. "This is an unexpected and thoughtful gesture, if a little late. And while it doesn't make everything okay, it certainly helps."

"You even apologised to Pascal, too. He will be happy to receive this." she sighs, defeated. "Well. Thank you, Hershel. One good deed against a tally of ill is still one good deed."

"And on such lovely, high-quality paper, too."

Alternative wording

"I don't even feel like mentioning the low grammage of this paper."

"You even included Pascal." Her eyes travel over the note.

"Hershel. It says you're sorry that he's married to me."

"Pen slipped."

"What a waste of good paper. All you do is mock and belittle me. Why are you still in my home?"

Alternative wording

"And on such low grammage paper at that. All you do is mock and belittle me. Why are you still in my living room?"

"It's just a little joke between friends."

"Well? Give it to him."

"Thank you, Hershel. One good deed against a tally of ill is still one good deed. And on such lovely, high-quality paper, too."

Alternative wording

"Thank you. One good deed against a tally of ill is still one good deed. I don't even feel like mentioning the low grammage of this paper."

"Oh, isn't that thoughtful of..." her eyes scan the note. "Hershel. This is addressed to Pascal. It says you're sorry that he's married to me."

Alternative wording

"Oh, isn't that thoughtful of..." her eyes scan the note. "This is only addressed to Pascal, Hershel."

"Yes, that's all I had to say."

"Well? Give it to him."

"Guess I forgot about you again."

"Oh, Hershel, how unexpectedly thoughtful of..."

The slight smile in her eyes fades as she takes in the little card.

"...Me?"

"You haven't written anything. This is just a blank card."

"It's the thought that counts."

"This is an entirely empty gesture. Even if it is on quite respectably high grammage paper."

Alternative wording

"This is an entirely empty gesture.... on very low grammage paper, I might add."

She rubs the card between her discerning thumb and forefinger.

"I can't believe there was a moment there where I expected better from you."

"I chose it for the grammage."

"Oh, right."

"You're welcome."

"I want to talk about the Crew."

Alternative wording

"About the Crew again..."

"What did you call us, your 'Whole Sick Crew'?" she sighs, exhales. "What about it?"

Alternative wording

"Fine."

"Tempo's gone."

She shakes her head, slowly.

"It's a wonder he made it past forty, the way he lived. But I'm guessing it wasn't the drugs that took him in the end -- who was it?"

Could have been anyone who killed him, she means.

"I didn't say he was dead. He's fine he's just a boar."

"Right... of course."

"Weeping Eye."

"You're following him to the grave, then."

Ribboned flesh, spots of white fat beneath the skin. A tuk-tuk horn blares outside.

"Oh." she winces. "For all his vices he did not deserve... that."

"It doesn't matter, does it."

"No. For his kind, I believe it does not."

You feel your lip twitch into a snarl.

"I killed HOLOCENE."

"What do you mean?" Voice flat, distant. "How?"

"The small controller killed him really, I just finished him off."

"I... I don't know what you're talking about. I don't want to know what you're talking about. Stop this."

Brrrr.

"The small controller wanged him really, I just finished him off."

"Crank drill to the head, as I do with all my wayward subordinates."

"He sold us out, Eszti. Had to go."

"You're... being serious? I don't believe you. I..."

Yes she does.

She opens her mouth to speak, hesitates. Watching you.

"Nothing... let's talk about something else."

"I actually don't want to talk about it, I feel really bad it happened."

"No... I don't want to talk about this either. I..."

"I wanged HOLOCENE."

"Have you heard from HOLOCENE?"

"No," she laughs, unkindly. "Of course not. I never even heard from him when we actually worked together."

"HOLOCENE's been living in the Pitol Tract, rocket silo."

"Leave him there -- for his sake and yours."

"He is a little unreliable, probably."

"You deserve each other."

She inhales, scowls.

"No, that wasn't fair to him. At least he takes his own delusions seriously."

"He's almost nailed the invisibility thing."

"He remembers you. You get his dressing gown twitching if you know what I mean."

"I..." she pauses, changes gears. "Fascinating."

That's a 'would'.

"Well. He's no Pascal but, how sweet. You leave him alone."

"He's back in my Crew already."

"Do you know how Karolina is?"

Her lip curls, she lifts her chin. An expression of pure contempt.

She's about to tell you something awful.

"She was picked up by the Weeping Eye. Tortured."

All systems go down. A brief but total outage.

Alive, then. But in what condition?

Don't act surprised. The network was blown, this was inevitable.

But, Karolina...

You were all at risk, all of you. From the Weeping Eye, from EMTERR, from each other.

Still, it sickens you. One of yours. One of yours.

I shouldn't have let that happen to her...

She always said that you were the best. KINDRED will likely hold this against herself, not you.

Of course you were the best. She had nothing to compare you to.

For some spies, interrogation is a proving ground. For others, it is a distant shore from which they can only wave, and never return.

You once heard an old hand say that the tortured walk their own province.

"Hershel? Say something."

"Have you seen her since? How is she?"

"I... haven't."

Regret, shame.

"Torture changes people, Hershel. Something that sounds obvious but the extent of it... isn't. They know the truth of what we can do to one another."

"So do you. 'Head of Human Capital'."

"We all do what we have to."

On behalf of the invisible master.

"Who is 'we'?"

"Your hands are not clean. Don't be delusional."

"She's living in the Old Cinema, I haven't spoken to her yet."

"The cinema? What on..." She shakes her head.

"You can't be thinking of involving her in this but... don't. Leave her alone, Hershel. You've done enough."

"I hope she's doing... well. As well as she could be."

"You should have helped her."

"I was hiding from them myself. Unlike you I am aware of my own limitations."

A miserable defiance to the set of her chin.

"Don't you dare call me a coward. You weren't here. You were safe."

"I don't want to talk about this." (Back.)

"I'll speak to her father, find out where she is."

"I don't know."

Alternative wording

"You can't possibly be thinking of dragging her back into this... but just in case you are. Don't."

"Was it her who broke the network?"

"I don't know. Is that really all you care about? Your network, your career? She was nineteen, Hershel."

Same age as you were when you were shot in the chest.

If Karolina managed not to give them anything then the Weeping Eye will have taken a lot in return.

Just another reason to shoot one of their Ministers dead.

You do not need more reasons, you need unmarred assets. KINDRED could already be lost to you.

Just another reason to wang one of their Ministers.

How long would I last under torture?

It is impossible to know until you're within it.

I've been electro-tortured. We can bond over the trauma.

That was EMTERR. Entry level stuff, even then you didn't last long. The Weeping Eye are far more sadistic.

You endured, but you had operant training. KINDRED had only the words you gave her, and whatever loyalty you inspired.

"The Weeping Eye tortured Karolina."

"Yes... that's what I was trying to tell you that day. But you never called me back."

You would have stayed had you known. You would have rescued her.

"Why didn't you just say it straight away? I would've stayed."

"I don't believe you would."

"And you didn't do anything?"

"Do what? I was hiding from them myself. Unlike you I am aware of my own limitations."

"She's... not well."

She nods, looks down.

She doesn't know what to say. She let Karolina down, too.

"Yes. I don't imagine she is."

Alternative wording

"No. And you can't possibly be thinking of dragging her back into this... but just in case you are. Don't."

"Hers is the future that awaits us all with this plan of yours. I hope you know that."

"I helped her through it."

"Vespar's dead."

"I'm... sorry to hear that. He was young. Was it to do with the network, or...?"

Or was it the drink, the job.

"I think he refused an offer from the Weeping Eye. He wouldn't give us up."

"Then we're living on time stolen from him." She looks down. "I'll... say a prayer. I don't know. Nothing can be done."

"I don't know."

"Right. I hope it was quick, whatever it was."

"Vespar's wanged."

"Vespar?"

"I don't know. I hope he escaped. It would have been easy for him, being a Carabinero."

"Anything about Ramses?"

"Nothing. Back in Rustam, I hope."

"I found Ramses."

"He's still in Portofiro? I'm surprised. This isn't his element." She looks away, thoughtful. "Though I'm not sure what is."

"I hope you're not trying to involve him in... this. He's a good man, highly skilled. He doesn't deserve this end."

"Enough." (Back.)

"Agreed."

"I want to ask about your new position with EMTERR."

"I bet you do."

"How do you live with yourself?"

"Same way as you."

"Yeah. We do what we have to for our work."

She nods, takes a drag from her cigarette.

She hates agreeing with you.

"It's not the same. You do this for the Bank. You've betrayed communism."

"Oh for god's sake Hershel. The communists aren't good for anything except making themselves miserable and believing themselves better people for it. Look at you."

"And they betrayed me. They left me here to die."

"It's a pity to watch the weak die, but we can only make a better world without them."

"That is not what I meant. You are... there's something wrong with you, Hershel."

"You're neighbours with the 'interrogatrix'. Do you share a tuk-tuk in the morning?"

"No, Hershel."

You try to imagine the casual workplace conversation of human traffickers. You fail.

"We do not work in the same office. And... frankly I find her quite unnerving."

"I was interrogated by one of yours, down by the canal."

"She must not have held you for very long, otherwise I would have known. Did you break?"

No sympathy.

"Yes."

"Mm."

Smug.

"Our current interrogator is... impressive. I'm not surprised she bettered you."

"You should be apologising to me. I'm the tortured one."

"Yes it's all about you and your suffering and how your suffering is greater than anybody else's. Grow up."

"The 'Head of Human Capital' out of the loop. You can't be that important."

"I think you have that the other way round. They don't send a memo every time a fish swims by the door."

"I think she has a thing for me."

"You are delusional."

No you're not, she wanted it bad.

"No." (Lie.)

"I can see when you're lying."

Alternative wording

"Another lie."

"Nobody breaks CASCADE."

Her eyebrows twitch toward her hairline.

Impressed.

"Our current interrogator is... A commanding personality. It's surprising but also, perhaps a slight relief to know that someone can get the better of her."

"I went on a date with her. She's pretty compromised if you know what I mean."

"I don't."

"She electrocuted me!"

"She gets results."

"Met a colleague of yours, Oskar Metamoto. He was shitfaced."

"No? No!"

She puts her hand to her heart, sighs.

"Poor man, he was doing so well... It's the pressures of the job."

"What about Poor Hershel? I have pressures too."

"Oh shut up. You've never been good at the work."

"He'll come back to himself eventually. I believe in him."

We're definitely more believable than that wet drunk.

"He was at your wedding. My invite must have been lost."

"Of course he was at my wedding, he is a dear friend. Made a beautiful speech... I'd invite the commander of the Weeping Eye before I'd invite you, Hershel."

"I kicked him."

"You are... nasty, Hershel Wilk. Just plain unpleasant."

"He's obsessed with someone called Lolita Callista. Know her?"

"The Ambassador's wife! He has such a fragile heart... She should feel lucky to be loved by a man like that."

"What do you think of Frederik, the junior negotiator?"

"I do not think of Frederik, the junior negotiator."

She purses her lips in distaste.

"There is a slime to him. A certain... sheen. He's nothing to do with my department, anyway."

"Met the daughter of one of your victims, looking for him around the Bazaar."

Her face does not change.

"I suggest you persuade her to stop."

"You're so happy with your new family. But you got it by destroying other people's."

"I have no choice! You left me here; you did this to me."

Her voice a low hiss.

"Now stop. Stop it."

"Go tell her yourself. Her name's Malen."

"I will not. I don't want to know that."

"He wasn't in our business. He was just an old man."

"Well then he shouldn't have been prying around EMTERR's business."

"Enough about that." (Back.)

"Yes."

"About your job again..."

"What now?"

"How did you make it out back in 91?"

"I didn't. I am still here." She shudders. "There was an internal investigation..."

The shadows under her eyes deepen. She swallows.

Ring binders stacked on a glass-topped conference table, a chair at either end. She notices a tiny circle of paper on the carpet -- lost from a hole-puncher? A polite cough brings her attention back to her interviewer.

"I passed."

"I'd have passed it harder."

"No, Hershel. You wouldn't."

Voice hollow. She's not trying to insult you, just telling the truth.

"They executed the interviews with a... maddening bureaucratic precision. Every file, every movement. Every sneeze accounted for. I started to hallucinate... imagine crimes I never committed. My hair fell out."

Automatically, your eyes scan up from hers. You notice the lace at the front of her wig.

"I thought I was made many times..." She glances at the window, an automatic gesture.

She outsmarted the Bank. She may be a pain but she is undeniably skilled.

"How?"

"Nerve. Planning. Attention to detail."

"Nice work, ESTOC."

"Yes."

Too harrowed by the memory to dismiss the compliment outright.

"Nice living room. I like your wall things."

"It's called macrame."

"Very dangly. Pleasant couch, too. Pink."

"Yes. Fuchsia."

She closes her eyes for a moment, sighs.

"I wasn't always like this, Hershel. I was ambitious, principled, effective. I had the follow through that you lack."

"I had a streak of successful assignments and every reason to expect I was in line for a substantial reward. Then you came along."

And now she has macrame.

"It says 'old people' but in a sentimental way that evokes pity and warmth."

She closes her eyes and exhales.

"Very well."

"Do they distract you from the horrors you facilitate all day?"

She takes a drag of her cigarette, looks at the macrame.