Personalism

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

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 return to the shelves.

"You should probably find your colleague."

The two teenage girls refuse to look at you.

"Welcome, welcome."

"Hey, bud!"

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!"

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 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.

You step back to the tower of plushies.

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

"Mm. Hey."

You return to the door of the little houseboat.

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

The brightly-coloured cans and cigarette packets seem even more vivid upon your return.

"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."

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.

A bottle sits in wet surrender among the grime. The label, damp but still holding strong, reads 'Wiśnia Schnapps On-Tour'.

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.

"Hnng."

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