Doppelgäng

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

A click somewhere inside. The world slows.

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 return to the shelves.

"You should probably find your colleague."

The two teenage girls refuse to look at you.

"Welcome, welcome."

The Luzian device smoothly unfolds, its twin faces looking away from each other.

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.

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!"

The brightly-coloured refreshments seem even more vivid upon your return.

You're in the clear. Give it a go.

Placid Wolf languishes atop his plastic cup.

The Editor-in-Chief's desk is somewhat orderly. A few notebooks and proofs, a terminal, and a collection of pens -- laid out side by side.

"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 no answer.

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

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

You return to the hole.

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

"Hello, again."

You step back to the tower of plushies.

"No rack for you! Pay up."

"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.

You approach the children's figurines once again.

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

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

Water sloshes quietly against the hull of the boat. The door is closed firm.

A low, tilting shelf marked in heavy block letters: 'DESPISED SUBGENRES'.

The monkey is still hiding in the shadows.

You return to the graffiti wall.