Shadowplay

The shrine is eerily still.

You step into the booth and press the receiver to your ear.

"Operant. Something big is happening, isn't it?"

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

The sleek metal callbox stands guard.

The cleaning tuk-tuk with its soap bubbles and secrets seems almost prestigious now.

"All sleeping soundly here, CASCADE... Any luck with those brakes?"

The building noticeboard stands beside a communal area, full of ads and scraps of daily lives.

It all happens in milliseconds. A sharp blow to your elbow, the flashlight flying out of your grasp...

"Hello again." The subeditor smiles at you with the left side of her mouth.

"Yyyes?" Again the heavy, authoritative Azzurri voice comes through.

A typed page lies upside-down in a stack of similarly formatted files. The cover reads: 'Remote Viewing Testimonial N.28'.

"As I suspected, my sources were very pleased with your work. Well done, Hershel. It's an honour to work with you again."

"Fuck off, Tigerpussy."

The glimmering purple keyboard is just as you left it.

"Yyyes?" Again the heavy, authoritative Azzurri voice comes through.

Look, around your feet.

THE WANG GUIDE TO IMPROVISED FIREARMS, VOL 2.

"Wow... an actual liquidity mage..."

"Goodbye."

"Here again."

You have already engaged in model train repair and improvised weapon manufacture here. There is nothing else to do at the workbench.

"It's cold out here." The girl rolls her shoulders and lightly stamps a foot.

"Didn't work, did it?"

"Hello, lapinette."

"Hi again. Still not leaving yet, sorry." She puffs on her pipe.

"..." His idiotic expression remains unchanged.

"You. Again." The tapping begins.

You loom once more over the shrine and its congregation of frames.

The ration pack crinkles as you turn it over.

The pipe twists out from the concrete like the roots of a plumbing tree.

"CASCADE." The barest of nods. "I've been playing 'I Spy' relentlessly with myself to pass the time. Pretty even as things stand, but I'm…

You return to the postbox.

"My agent of fortune returns. Happy Dante."

Tiny figures jog across the screen, lobbing the hard pelota ball back and forth.

The pink paper tab is no bigger than a fingernail. One side is decorated with a simple illustration of a cockerel.

A sheet of thick paper lies on the floor, folded in half and partially covered by shadow.

"Dull the blade, and unsteady the hand. The great CASCADE makes her appearance at last."

"Anything interesting in the shack back there?" He smiles at you.

"You should move, CASCADE."

Whatever light that's slipped in from above has nearly drained away.

You crawl back into the tunnel, as far in as you were before, where it starts to shrink.

The familiar Renotel chime hits your ear.

As you press down on the intercom button, a little light comes on.

"I'm here to support you, trade agent. What do you need?"

The fire door stands between you and the roof. Unfortunately, someone removed the pelota ball that was wedging it open.

PSEUDOPOD shifts from foot to foot, glancing at the boatman.

You return to the lone payphone.

A shade in a leather jacket thrusts a decapitated head towards the reader -- its lolling tongue and dripping viscera a promise of what's…

There is nothing more for you here.