Poetics

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.

I once knew a spy.

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

You return to the shelves.

"You should probably find your colleague."

The two teenage girls refuse to look at you.

"Welcome, welcome."

"Hey, bud!"

The wall is slightly discoloured where the Jefa Red & Black poster once was.

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.

A ruined sofa with a sad story to tell.

The wall where Bagman once stared at you is now blank.

You stare up at the high filing cabinet.

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!"

"Operant... are you busy?"

There is nothing more to see here.

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

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

You return to the hole.

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

The toilet is still hung on the wall above the bar, a place of great honour -- a reminder of the Ceramic Panic of 83.

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

You step back to the tower of plushies.

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

"Mm. Hey."

The bomb is where you left it, looking completely innocuous.

"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."

Your faint reflection stares back at you from the neighboring building's skylight.

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

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

You have arrived at Eszti's doorstep.

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

"No flyers, no pamphlets, no gum!"

The trio goes silent at your return.

The door is still bolted shut from the inside.

"Hnng."

You return to look out over Portofiro.

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