Cold Read

The grinning 'Financial Citizen' welcomes you back, his offer still on the table.

A click somewhere inside. The world slows.

The carabinero and his controller are deep in conversation.

She spins toward you, arm raised.

Movement at your peripheral vision.

"Welcome back to our program, Lieutenant Prophet Wilk." He raises his hands and claps slowly for the cameras.

You wake to blurry vision, thudding ears, and a dull ache in your lower spine.

"Perhaps someone should go down and check on Boris and Irina?"

"You should probably find your colleague."

The two teenage girls refuse to look at you.

"Welcome, welcome."

You return to the rack.

You find yourself staring at the dummy once more.

"Hersh."

Another plastic wolf cup in your hand. As before, '1/6' is stamped on the hard bottom.

There is no response, just the sound of your own breath against cool plastic.

The stall remains as haphazard as ever, its payment bucket near empty.

"Hard to believe, but it seems the gap is widening, even as we speak!"

Placid Wolf languishes atop his plastic cup.

"Operant... are you busy?"

Bagman gestures wildly on the television screen. This is the ad for the Reality Situation you've seen before.

There is nothing more to see here.

"Well? Have you found out about the gap yet?"

"Yo, habibti." Goat Eyes flicks his cigarette.

"Ah here you are yes here. Do you like life in True Time?" She bounces excitedly, her metal headgear still jingling as she moves.

"Hello, again."

You pick out the latest issue of 'The Noscorrentes Review' and feel its hefty weight once again.

"Did you have a chance to tidy up Admiral Rigau's shrine?"

"... We spy another day, CASCADE..."

"The aerial creep is still up there, menina. Creeping."

"Wolf time!" The children glance at you before turning back to the television.

"A cipher -- intriguing. Sounds like you're making progress."

The phone rings, repeating its muted tone like a lover in your ear. There is no answer.

"Alright. Communion with the cricket." Ramses initiates the session with a deft hit of three buttons and a switch.

You approach the children's figurines once again.

"Whatever you did to the hogger, he looks proper sad for once." The old pilot tips his drink to you.

"Nothing for it now, CASCADE -- we await the conclusion."

"No flyers, no pamphlets, no gum!"

The trio goes silent at your return.

The tabletop is splattered with the drying blood of your old friend.

The figure in the other sealed, full-body suit gives you a stiff nod.

"I'll be off soon so get whatever you need now."

You return to the wasteland.

You return to The Animal Zone.

The monkey is still hiding in the shadows.

You unfold the cipher and remember the instructions extracted from the novel:

The metal drawer slides out nearly soundlessly, revealing rows of official-looking folders.

"Back again, CASCADE? Might want to, you know, get the fuck on with it."

The fax machine hums faintly. A single sheet sits in the tray, edges curled like a beckoning finger.

"Please, if you see Karolina. Do let me know."