OPERANT

"Who's 'we', operant?"

"You got your 'Z', operant. Brilliant work. If it doesn't feel the way you expect, that's your matter to sort."

"Who was in charge? There must be an operant in there..."

"What did they promise you? Money? Did they tell you they'd make you a big-time communist operant? It doesn't have to be this hard..."

"Operant."

"No operant, I don't."

"But did it work, operant? Did. It. Work?"

You know your role, operant. Play it.

"And now, operant, we come to our parting."

"You're saying reading poetry will make me a better operant?"

"Please, operant. There's cavorting with the genius loci and then there's wrapping your mouth around a raw sewage line."

"On your mark, operant."

"Don't worry, operant. Your part's coming up."

Tempo was laying low from the Weeping Eye, not EMTERR. It would be very bad news if both the Operant Bureau's ancient enemies were mixed up in this.

"I've been called many things, operant. 'Cool' isn't one of them."

"Operant. Bon of you to drop by." He glances at his wrist and ruffles his fleshy brow. "Was starting to think you weren't going to make it."

"Ding-ding! Now there's an operant-grade inference."

"Don't keep me waiting, operant."

"Matches a description I heard once. Defector report, years back. Always wondered was it genuine." He nods slowly. "Fine work, operant."

"This isn't the Bank, operant -- no deposits." He taps the magazine. "But a donation's a different matter."

"He's clearly delusional. Probably talking about some other operant."

"Have to agree with you there, operant. And yet, every party needs a soundtrack."

"I'll be blunt, operant: I'm a jealous old fuck. If I learn that you've accepted a rival offer, say from a certain sack-headed TV presenter, then we're done here."

"Operant. Bon of you to drop by." He glances at his wrist. "And right on schedule, I'd say."

"I hope you get a good price, operant."

"Weapon like that, in the hands of an operant with a mind to use it, could be extremely potent."

"CASCADE? Mega-cool operant? Heard she retired. Got a parade and everything."

"Come on, operant. Have you got the disc or not?"

"Well met, operant. What can I do for you?"

"Come on, operant. Stupid games are beneath us. Let's 'get real'."

"Operant. Bon of you to drop by." He glances at his wrist and ruffles his fleshy brow. "Though a bit earlier than I was expecting."

Null entity, the Operant Bureau's preferred name for those it would rather forget.

"Operant. We've got things to talk about."

"A tip, operant: You could waste your days sniffing my rapidly disappearing gluteus, trying to guess if I'm a double, a triple, or any other fancy." He scratches the side of his nose. "Or, you could remember the tenets of our craft."

"... Subcomandante Bagman has secured a tremendous victory for the bold partisans of the Real! Seized from an iodine-deficient pawn of the so-called 'Operant Bureau'..."

"Till next time, operant."

"Finally get up to speed, operant?"

"Iodine-deficient pawn of the so-called 'Operant Bureau', this is Subcomandante Bagman. Hear me out! Do not give the disc to the heartless man -- come see me instead!"

"As you will, operant."

"Tres bon. You haven't disappointed, operant."

"You really think you have just one file, operant?"

"Come on, operant. Get yourself together, we're barely midway through the season."

"Sure. A two-person counterforce to stand against the shadow-lattice. Every junior operant's fantasy."

"As the old ones say: Luck and skill, operant."

"You keep the stars, operant?"

"If I knew, there'd be no task, operant. Not weather reports, I'll tell you that much."

Of course, the Operant Bureau's psychomancers share the same interest. They just call it 'Conditioning'.

The Operant Bureau concurs with the null entity. You are not actually considering this.

"Operant. You look like you've been put through a shit-extruder." The old man narrows his eyes above his glasses.

"And? Don't tell me that's all, operant. I'm getting that iron taste on my tongue. There's more."