CONTROLLER

A bare fourteen words: 'SMALL CONTROLLER INSIDE. LOCATE VIA REMOTE VIEWING. THEN EXTRACT. THROUGH DIMENSIONALITY TO ANALYSIS.'

The Small Controller.

There they are! The carabinero and his controller, like Ignatz said.

The Opera have a machine dedicated to this -- if you want to capitulate, just take it to your controller and make it her problem.

Is this 'small controller' the betrayer?

'Director MALA FIDE until extraction. Beware Small Controller.'

What about this 'small controller'?

Your controller told you to run -- and you did.

"I've had enough of hearing people's various fixations. Whichever this 'controller' belongs to, please keep it to yourself."

"Looks a lot like how I imagine my controller."

"I've already logged my report with my controller. Consider it redacted."

CASCADE: 'Are you sure it's okay to just... leave them behind, M?' CONTROLLER: 'They're assets, CASCADE.'

Your controller.

"Oh dear... I don't think she's coming." She giggles. "Is that what you call your controller?"

"I heed no controller."

"'Umbral Host'?" She giggles. "Is that your controller?"

"He said the carabinero was a spy, and you were his controller."

For all intents and purposes, the only answer that should matter is your controller.

"Remember! Just one quality photograph of the carabinero leaking in the wild will do. Make sure you get the woman too, his controller."

"But fine. I'll indulge." He sighs. "One of the men providing physical security for these upcoming talks is a carabinero rat. He's leaking information to his controller."

"One of the men providing physical security for these upcoming talks is a filthy carabinero rat. He's leaking information to his controller."

"What about his controller?"

"I have ascertained the filthy carabinero, and I have also ascertained his controller. All you need to do is get them on film together."

"Pipe down, Hershel. I'm... analysing the field. A controller... of such high importance can only be truly... watched by a man of me -- I mean my... stature."

"That's enough about the controller."

"Why aren't you doing anything about the controller? (Nod at the bartender.)

Small Controller, answer me.

"Hey, Small Controller. How'd you get inside HOLOCENE?"

Debrief the Small Controller.

Small Controller? Are you there?

<<The Small Controller now has full, unbridled rein of my body!>>

'Small controller' or 'former double' -- both possible entities are devious in their intelligence.

<<Repeat, director compromised entirely! Small Controller has the upper hand!>>

Isn't this exactly what the Small Controller would say?

Amateur stagecraft. Somewhere in Novessa, a controller sheds a tear.

"You're not my controller."

Your controller was clear: She doesn't need to know anything beyond her station. Compartmentalise.

"Apologies, operant, that's a bit beyond my remit. If you're short on funds, you should speak with your controller directly."

"CASCADE, PSEUDOPOD is upstairs. He seems... distressed. He's on the phone with your controller."

"CASCADE, is everything alright upstairs? PSEUDOPOD seemed very distressed when he ran in -- he's up there on the phone with your controller now."

The magic box may be monitored. Perhaps your controller's being recorded for training and political reliability purposes.

Five-thousand kilometres away, in a small office deep underground, a mid-level controller of the Operant Bureau leans forward and cups a hand over her earpiece.

"Is that a hint of reaction I hear from my controller?"

Even as your controller is speaking, your mind is settling back into familiar grooves. The old mechanisms slide and click into position.

"Listen, CASCADE, I love a good cabal as much as the next controller, but I just don't see it."

Even as you've been speaking your controller's silently been gaming out every possible manoeuvre. She knows what she's doing.

Time to flip this situation on its head. It's your controller who needs to give you the reason.

You dial your controller's number. The phone buzzes. After several rings, someone picks up.

The magic box hums its secret tune. In a dark Novessa sub-basement, your controller answers.

"She's your controller, isn't she? Of course you're in a delusional relationship with your controller. Of course."