[User] "And now if you'll just connect that here..."

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[User] "It's done. I believe we're ready." The lieutenant wipes his brow.

[Assistant] "We're ready to try, at least. Please, put on these headphones, there should be two extra sets. I've configured the channels so that only your microphone is set to broadcast, officer. We'll all be able to listen, but anyone we reach will only hear *your* voice."

[User] "You will need to transmit your connection request while I attempt to locate the warship's public frequency. You will likely encounter some interference, but it's important to keep transmitting your request until you're acknowledged. Ready?"

[Assistant] "Wait, what if they *never* acknowledge me?"

[User] "Then it will be exactly like every other moment of every other day. I ask again: Are you ready?"

[Assistant] "Not yet."

[User] "Too late. I've begun transmitting..."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["auto.is_snowing"]) == false]

[Assistant] A soft rustling. Between your ears, a winterscape with fast falling snow...

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["jam.warship_shivers_snow"]) == false]

[Assistant] "Go ahead, officer."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["TASK.inspect_traps_2_done"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["TASK.restock_trap_done"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["whirling.lena_husband_back"]]

[Assistant] "Oh, hello, sweetie. So nice to see you again."

[User] "I've changed my mind. I'll tell Morell you're worried."

[Assistant] "Oh, you're such a dear! Thank you, sweetie."

[User] "The water lock on the canal is broken, so your husband is probably just stuck on the other side of the coast."

[Assistant] "Oh, my! What happened to the water lock?"

[User] "Word around the canal is some weird new cryptid destroyed it."

[Assistant] "Oh, now you're just having fun at an old woman's expense! In any case, thank you for looking into this. It takes a weight off my shoulders."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["boardwalk.feld_mural_main_hub_reached"]]

[Assistant] The once-bright mural towers above you, saying "FELD ELECTRICAL R&D."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["boardwalk.mural_look_in"]  and  IsKimHere() == false) == false]

[Assistant] Why do I feel like I know this place?

[User] Indeed. Somehow you knew it was here. An urban ruin gutted by looters that once used to consume money and dispense warmth and light.

[Assistant] You felt it, before, when it rained in Martinaise and you *felt* the cold of the rain. The feeling persists. It has been in you ever since.

[User] Listen to the wind again.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["boardwalk.feld_mural_shivers_white_succeeded_two"]]

[User] Suddenly there's a sigh, carried on the molecules around you, moving, flowing from high pressure to low pressure. Like that of a woman emptying her lungs. She wraps the collapsing stone box in front of you in her breath, flowing through it...

[Assistant] Where does it go?


[User] Okay, so the speedfreaks want to start a club for dance music. That much checks out. Youths like music. You feel as though you might have liked music more when you were young too... but you digress.

[Assistant] Mmmhm. (Rub your chin.) What's the *gist* of it.

[User] The gist of it is: They want to turn the church into a club, but a suspicious element has overtaken the building. It's very important to understand what the *gist* of things is -- always consult the gist before making up your mind. This is going well.

[Assistant] Of course, not everything is 100% clear here but when is it ever? Congratulations, kids. Your story *sort of* checks out.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["church.soona_andre_logic_hint_confronted_him"]]

[Assistant] All in all, you really can't tell what that mean programmer grandma was talking about.

[User] Maybe everything isn't quite as you've been told? Take a moment to analyse.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["ice.andre_logic_whitecheck_success"]]

[User] A number of things don't add up. Let's take a look!

[Assistant] How about: "Gather around, kids!"

[User] "Okay kids, now gather around..."

[Assistant] The young speedfreak puts down a busted capacitor and looks at you.


[User] Good, you're up. Listen, there's something that's been bothering you for a few days now.

[Assistant] What is it?

[User] It's a suspicion, or a feeling, really, that things are not quite *in hand* around here...

[Assistant] An earth-shattering deduction from your psyche. What will those guys come up with next?

[User] Every day things seem to spin more and more wildly out of control. The centre isn't holding. And despite your efforts to *moderate* and *contain* these energies, things only seem to be getting worse.

[Assistant] Let's get right to it: What needs to be done?

[User] You've got to find out who bears *la responsabilité*.

[Assistant] Alright, give it to me. *I'll* accept responsibility. (Proceed.)

[User] Whoa, whoa, *whoa*. This isn't some kind of *dictatorship*. You can't simply seize la responsabilité for yourself. It must be given by a legitimate authority...

[Assistant] Like a committee.

[User] You don't need no stinkin' committee. You're the Law.

[Assistant] Do we really have time for all this?

[User] There is always time to follow best practices. Once someone's decided to *cut corners* for the sake of expediency, who knows what else they're capable of?

[Assistant] Swift, decisive action.


[User] Whoa! In your hand: *pyrholidon* -- the double rainbow of synthetic hallucinogens. Rare and gritty, a product of the age of atomic power.

[Assistant] Look at the little puck of liquid.

[User] What a funny little cap! Don't let the *scary* medical warnings throw you off. It's an inadequate antidote to radiation poisoning, but a *potent* antidote to *boredom*.

[Assistant] That's really not what I'm looking for. [Ignore thought.]


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["canal.samaran_vis_calc_wc_success"]]

[Assistant] The crumpled SAMARAN BUTTER billboard still soaks in the canal, marked by tyre tracks.

[User] Look at the opposite bank.

[Assistant] Still speeding, the vehicle made a loop and vanished into the fog along the coast.

[User] "Yup -- *I* did this."

[Assistant] "Clearly, yes. Dwelling on it longer only makes it worse."

[User] Why the Linnea G22?

[Assistant] Very sturdy but light motor carriage. More likely than most to survive that jump.

[User] The Linnea G22 is not a particularly popular model due to its peculiar proportions, which the manufacturer's design team probably thought about for too long.

[Assistant] What now?


[User] An intricate web of blue lines stretches across the torso of the hanged man, from the right shoulder to the solar plexus. Each time the lines intersect, a small white star is formed in their crossing. Hundreds of fading asterisks riddle his skin; their concentration is highest around his heart.

[Assistant] It almost looks like the electronic patterns inside a radiocomputer or an old filament memory, but not quite.

[User] Who are you?

[Assistant] Gone.

[User] What's the meaning of this tattoo?

[Assistant] For you to discover. You've gotten as far as you will without assistance.

[User] Someone close to the victim might know.

[Assistant] Someone who knows about history could tell you.


[User] "We have transmitted our summary to the Committee of Responsibility. Please continue standing by..."

[User] "Wie kannst du... unseren Jungen... auf einem dieser *Dinger*..."

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["church.soona_archer_working_soona"]) == false]

[User] "Damn spookers. Can't keep 'em off our back..."


[User] "I'm more interested in *why* you're so fixated on this idea in the first place."

[Assistant] "To be honest, I mostly just want to ride on Coalition Warship Archer."

[User] "Let me make a prediction, detective. You are not going to see the inside of a Coalition warship anytime soon."

[Assistant] "This has *got* to be better than your DynaWave."

[User] "An Esterhaz is certainly nothing to sniff at." The lieutenant nods. "But if you compare the feature sets, I would say they're more-or-less equivalent."

[Assistant] "That's okay. As long as it works."

[User] "It should. Assuming we can find a way to replace the frequency dial."

[Assistant] "Do you think we'll actually be able to reach the Coalition with this?"

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["reputation.kim"] > 1]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["reputation.kim"] > 5) == false]

[User] "To be perfectly frank, I have my reservations about this whole antenna scheme. But who knows? We may yet be surprised."

[Assistant] "This has *got* to be better than your DynaWave."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["seafort.books_hub_reached"]]

[Assistant] Softcovers, serialized *fantastique* and detective stories, 'Animal Adventures', a magazine for electrical engineering, and an international thriller. Also: light erotica and some historical novels from the century past.

[User] "Critical theory books... What do you think this means?"

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["seafort.generator_philosopher_clicked"]]

[User] "Again, I am not a philosopher. But whoever has lived here -- they have *some* education. And a certain *set* of interests."

[Assistant] Interesting...

[User] "Critical theory books... What do you think this means?"

[Assistant] "Cuno doesn't give a shit. Cuno's not hooked on the book. Tryna get me hooked on it, teachers and shit..."

[User] This means we have a critical theory loving vagrant here... interesting.

[Assistant] [Leave.]


[User] There it is again! There's a spectral scent haunting this pier, no doubt. And it smells like...

[Assistant] Sea brine, mostly. Because it's a pier.

[User] Years of turmoil, of hopes and dreams ground beneath the inexorable tides of capital.

[Assistant] I *still* don't smell anything.

[User] Absolute rubbish. Your politico-olfactory cortex doesn't deceive you. The smell is coming... from that balcony over there!

[Assistant] You mean from that scary-looking girl in the old lady coat?

[User] Certainement! A precocious communist youth, a symbol of a kinder, more hopeful future. Now's your chance to *establish contact* with your revolutionary brothers and sisters.

[Assistant] A chance to establish contact with the future! What a beautiful, *terrible* thought...


[User] *Bratan*, now is the time!

[Assistant] Time for what?

[User] Oh... you will see. (It feels like the tie is rubbing itself against your chest like a cat in heat.)

[Assistant] First, the spirits -- the blue medicinal spirits. Grab the bottle and uncork it! It is time to unleash the Other-World.

[User] You know what, I'm done with this crazy talking necktie bullshit!

[Assistant] But, *bratan*... no. Please uncork it. I can make it good again.

[User] Necktie, you and I are done. Both professionally -- and as friends. Begone! (End the tie.)

[Assistant] The lifeless necktie looks like a colourful intestine of some dead animal: oily, alien and otherwise disgusting. What could have driven a man to wear something so repulsive around his neck?


[User] "Where did the horse-faced woman go?"

[Assistant] "I don't really use words like that to describe my clients, and maybe you shouldn't either…" He purses his lips. "Seeing as you're a cop and all."

[User] "Yeah, you're right."

[Assistant] "Anyway, I can't help you there. A lot of women come and go here."

[User] "By the way -- where were you when it happened?"

[Assistant] "Where was *I*? How do you think I know the crazy shit you pulled off out there? I was *there* -- out on the balcony, protecting my establishment."

[User] That's actually true. You remember him, from the corner of your eye, right behind you on the Whirling balcony...

[Assistant] "So yeah." He looks around, aloof. "I guess I'm what you call a bad ass."

[User] It really took courage. Don't pick at him.

[Assistant] "If you say it as two different words like that, it sounds like there's something wrong with your ass."

[User] "Yeah, well..." He scoffs. "Fuck you too then. You have any more questions, or stylistic pronunciation advice?"

[Assistant] He's not too offended. The experience has changed something in him.

[User] "Are Lena and Morell still in town?"

[Assistant] "Ah, them! Nice people -- but no. Lena said they were going back to Jamrock. I saw them pass by, outside." He waves at the windows. "This was *before* the fight started."


[User] "You mentioned some kind Ecclesiastes own the church. Who are these Ecclesiastes?"

[Assistant] "Oh yeah, that's a Meteoran name for the Founding Party. Thought it'd be cool to use it."

[User] If you don't know what the Founding Party is, there might be a way to mask it with minor demagoguery.

[Assistant] (Mask it.) "Now humour me, Andre -- what is the Founding Party?"

[User] "Come to think of it, I've never really looked them up, you know. I can't give you a precise definition, but they're a very powerful religious organization."

[Assistant] (Nod.) "Good. Now, let's talk about something else."

[User] "Yes?"

[Assistant] "Who exactly are these people inside the church?"

[User] "Truth is, I don't really know. None of us do. I don't even know how many there are... all we've seen are glimpses."

[Assistant] Glimpses? Who are these people, secret agents? Stealth operatives?

[User] "You haven't even seen them and you want the police involved?"

[Assistant] "Well..." he leans in for emphasis, "there's also *the machinery*..."

[User] This machinery is of the deeply mystical variety.

[Assistant] "When I first scouted the place, back in February, it was abandoned. Empty. Took some time getting the crew together, so about two weeks ago we came here hoping to set the stuff up. Suddenly there are all these strange *machines* lying around in there."


[User] The remaining windows rattle from a strong gust of wind. They're covered in a thick layer of grime. They must have been like this for forty years.

[Assistant] "Lieutenant, can you make out what's inside?" (Point at the windows.)

[User] "No." He shakes his head. The windows rattle in their frames. "I won't even try. You know..." He takes his glasses off.

[Assistant] "I had a partner once. They called him Eyes, because he had to show me things. It's that bad."

[User] This partner of his, Eyes -- things didn't end well. It saddens him to say his name. Don't even ask. He wouldn't answer. Maybe some other small talk?

[Assistant] Just nod. [Finish thought.]


[User] "The theatrical suicide attempt -- we need to talk about it."

[Assistant] "Yes. I want to talk about it as well."

[User] "Yes. Well. I was able to re-contextualize it as a dark joke." He pauses thoughtfully. "I will not be able to re-contextualize it the next time."

[Assistant] "I understand you sometimes employ *extreme* interrogation tactics, but I want you to understand: that was *too* extreme."

[User] "We can't have RCM officers going around, putting guns in their mouths. We can't afford to have that image. Few institutions can."

[Assistant] "Understood. 100%. It won't happen again."


[User] As you hold your ledger's clip under the headlamp, an iridescent hologram appears: a street grid and the veins of a great river. A familiar sensation washes over you...

[Assistant] "There she is: Revachol West." There's a note of pride in the lieutenant's voice.

[User] Around the borders of the watermark are dozens, no, *hundreds* of micro-perforations.

[Assistant] Look at the perforations.

[User] There are many of them. And they are divided into three separate rows.

[Assistant] (Let's look at something else.)

[User] Right. The meaning of the perforations remains opaque to you.

[Assistant] Look at the perforations.

[User] There are many of them. And they are divided into three separate rows.

[Assistant] (Let's look at something else.)


[User] You close your eyes and vacate your skull, leaving your brain to wonder: where did that little fluttering light go?

[Assistant] TOTAL DARKNESS! You sink down the darkest fathoms of your own personal deep, vertebrae by vertebrae -- THROUGH THE UNFORMED SKULLS OF YOUR SPINE.

[User] HERE IT WILL BEGIN.

[Assistant] Where did the music go?

[User] Oh, don't worry, *the music* is still there. It's *you* who's gone.

[Assistant] Concentrate on hearing.

[User] Nothing. Just the immaculate silence of your spinal fluid. Electrified.

[Assistant] It comes to you like a blue whale. You sense it stir the tranquillity of the deep -- a single note of bass passing through. Then it's gone. Back to *el silencio*.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["ice.andre_composure_heard_beat_underwater"]) == false]

[Assistant] Where did the church go?

[User] "WHO FUCKING CARES?!"

[Assistant] I'm scared.


[User] You see that seagull up there? Remind you of anybody?

[Assistant] Um... me?

[User] Exactly!

[Assistant] Why am I like a seagull?

[User] Think about the seagull's story. It's one of endurance -- and adaptation. The seaside was paradise once. They were birds of that paradise.

[Assistant] Then their paradise became *shit city*. And what did they do? They became urban survivors! Eating burgers out of trash cans! Killing and eating pigeons!

[User] No time for that sentimental bullshit. They're hustlers, getting shit done. They're one pair of track pants away from gangsters. Just like you.

[Assistant] I guess I *am* a bit like the seagull.


[User] A plaster cast bust depicts a middle-aged man with impressive sideburns. The name on the plinth reads 'Kras Mazov'.

[Assistant] Who is Kras Mazov?

[User] Seems like a good guy judging by the moustache. By the way... doesn't he kind of look like *you*?

[Assistant] "Father Mazov, the hero of the working class!" (Salute the statue.)


[User] In your hand, you hold four-fifths of "Dick Mullen and the Mistaken Identity."

[Assistant] Start reading.

[User] The story opens with a knock at the door. Detective Dick Mullen is greeted by an old friend, Charlie Spillane, who's come to Mullen to ask a favour on this dark and cold night...

[Assistant] Spillane needs Mullen to drive him in from Vesper to a small town along the Insulindian coast. Despite his friend's apparent agitation, Mullen does as he's asked, then returns home where he passes out drunk, as he does most nights...

[User] An extremely unprofessional and *hurtful* stereotype that's offensive to all upstanding officers of the law.

[Assistant] I don't need to read this. I'm already living it. (Close the book.)


[User] Look under the boxes of carton.

[Assistant] You see: milk, an egg-rest with one broken egg in it, some pasta wrapper... Picking up the soggy packages somehow feels familiar.

[User] You've done this before. The movements are recorded in your elbows, the methodology in your fingers... you're used to this.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["yard.trash_interfacing_has_done_dumpsters_before"]]

[User] Used to what -- dumpster diving?

[Assistant] No, searching for evidence in the trash.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsTHCPresent("hobocop")) == false]

[Assistant] Dive further...

[User] A box falls into pieces in your hands: Batiste *Soleil* cereal. There are plastic pasta packages below, and *Turbo* noodles. Nothing of note, however.

[Assistant] Time for bed. Crawl inside...

[User] The smell of rotten food rises up at you as you climb inside the trash container.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]


[User] Paintbrush -- check, heavy fuel oil -- check... Now the only thing left to do is paint the wall.

[Assistant] The paintbrush in your hand is like a loaded revolver. What will it be, desperado? Quite a few things come to mind...

[User] "I LOVE YOU CUNO"

[Assistant] You've spoken. The wall will now silently repeat the message. For a decade or so, until the sea air degrades the paint, adding another layer of *detritus* to the city.


[User] Attempt to narrow the receiving mode manually.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["jam.warship_interfacing_rc_success"]]

[User] Your grip is firm, yet controlled. The swelling in your headset guides your hands as much as your hands guide the bronze horse head. It's almost like you're hearing *through* the horse itself...

[Assistant] "That's very good. Just a bit more to the left..."

[User] "... Nein, Liebling!"

[Assistant] The signal is clear, the storm has passed. This is another voice, a live voice, on the other end of this invisible bridge you've established...

[User] "Try it now, officer."

[Assistant] "Coalition Warship Archer. This is RCM Officer Firewalker. Please acknowledge."

[Assistant] "Firewalker, this is Coalition Warship Archer. We are acknowledging and accepting you."

[User] "Aha, excellent! You are connected. Now be quick, I don't know how long I'll be able to preserve the signal."

[Assistant] This is it... you're finally getting to speak with those who hold *real* power.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["jam.warship_authority_power"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["jam.warship_interfacing_rc_success"]) == false]

[User] There is so much you wish you could ask, but you probably only have time for one or two questions before the signal is lost...

[Assistant] "Please be advised that you are speaking on the public frequency. What is your request?"


[User] "I found eight sets of footprints, but there's only seven of you... Where is the eighth Hardie boy?"

[Assistant] "What are you talkin' about, madman? There's no eighth Hardie boy. There's seven of us and we're all here." He sizes you up.

[User] "Or what -- *you* want to be the eighth Hardie boy? We ain't hiring!" He shakes his head.

[Assistant] "Actually, boss, we've been talking and we think she could maybe..."

[User] This person Glen wants to hire -- he really respects her.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["XP.gardner_confirmed_shes_not_eight_hardie"]]

[User] Hmmm... *She*? So there is an eighth Hardie and it's a Hardie girl?

[Assistant] "Shut the *fuck* up, Glen!" he roars. "I do the talking here! Now what the fuck do you want, cop?"

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[Assistant] It has to be good if he won't let you pursue it. Looks like the lieutenant thinks so too...

[User] "So let me get this straight... there *is* an eighth Hardie boy, it's a *she* and you don't like us talking about her?"

[Assistant] "That's right, we're not talking about this. This is a private Hardie boys matter, nothing to do with your shit. *And*..." He points at the lieutenant.

[User] "You're not cops here. Don't go digging around, if you don't want a bullet in the back of your head. I'm watching you."

[Assistant] "Good -- we're all watching each other." The lieutenant adjusts his spectacles. "Officer, your question?"

[User] There's no point in pushing it further, he thinks. This is already a victory. We'll learn more about this eighth Hardie sooner or later.

[Assistant] "Me and Evrart talked. He promised you'd cooperate."


[User] "Titus sent Elizabeth away and said her services were no longer needed."

[Assistant] "Oh yes. She came to see me. Said Titus Hardie is the most stubborn man she's ever met and you..." He shakes his finger at you. "You are on a whole new level of *difficult*."

[User] "Honestly, Harry," he says with a chuckle. "Jamming a wedge between a man and his legal counsel is no small achievement. Sounds like you're handling this like a supercop."

[Assistant] "This is how I operate."

[User] "Goddamnit, Harry... Please warn me first if I ever make it to your shit-list. And I promise to extend you the same courtesy." He laughs.

[Assistant] "To tell you the truth, I'm actually quite interested to see how this whole thing between you and Titus is gonna play out. You guys really deserve each other."

[User] "Do you know there's a mega rich light-bending guy inside one of the containers outside?"

[Assistant] "Mega rich light-bending guy? Oh my god! How did that get in there?"

[User] "I don't know how he got in there."

[Assistant] "Damn it to hell, Harry!" He slams his fist on the table. "I specifically told my guys to check all the containers for mega rich light-bending guys."

[User] "I think he wants to take down the proletariat, Evrart."

[Assistant] "Honestly, Harry, we might be moving a spot of drugs through this harbour, but I won't be caught transporting the light-bending mega-rich." He shakes his head. "I have a reputation to protect."

[User] "You should be honoured by the presence of this magus. He was of half-Revacholian blood and amassed his wealth using the mysterious bond of nationhood."

[Assistant] "Harry, it's beginning to dawn on me that you're a real fascist. A mega-fascist who imagines mega rich light-bending fascists. I love it! Thank you for sharing this facet of yourself with me."

[User] He bursts out laughing. "I shudder to think what you're going to tell me next, Harry."

[Assistant] Not for one second did he believe there's an actual mega rich person somewhere in his containertown.


[User] "Very noble of you. Are we done here?"

[Assistant] "Thanks for this." (Conclude.)

[User] The lieutenant nods.

[Assistant] "Hey, Kim, what do all these holes mean?" (Point to the dots on the watermark.)

[User] "Those are *perforations*. They represent your record as an officer of the RCM. They're your statistics, as it were. I should have guessed you'd keep a record, officers often do. Let's take a look..."

[Assistant] *Alpha male officers who are proud of their numbers* often do -- it's meant.

[User] Son, here is where we score your life performance. You better hope it's good.

[Assistant] "The first row represents your years of service. *Eighteen* years? Okay -- not bad at all. What did you do before you volunteered?"

[User] "Got drunk like a megastar?"

[Assistant] "Yes, that *does* seem quite likely. Your youth coincided with some heady days for Revachol. But let's move on, shall we?"

[User] "This next row -- the one that wraps all the way around -- is your number of closed cases. *Closed* is good. It means finished. You've got, let's see..."

[Assistant] "Wow, more than 200!"

[User] "I would have thought there'd be more."

[Assistant] "It's *quite* a lot, even for someone who's been on the force for nearly two decades. Usually clearing more than 10 cases a year puts you in the 90th percentile of *all* RCM officers..."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["TASK.inspect_traps_2_done"]]

[Assistant] "Hello, sweetie. How are you?" She sounds tired.

[User] Dark circles around her eyes. She's absolutely exhausted.

[Assistant] She asked about you because she's afraid to hear about the traps. But that's what she really wants news of.

[User] "That's all for now, ma'am." [Leave.]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["whirling.lena_refused_to_restock_trap"]  and  Variable["whirling.lena_refused_to_restock_trap_leave"] == false) == false]


[User] Stop. Just up ahead: danger.

[Assistant] You are prepared. Don't put away your friend. Your weapon.

[User] Raindrops slip from the barrels of your Nachtwey A80 pistol.

[Assistant] Why don't you take out your trusty Villiers instead?


[User] Present an investment plan that is sure to fail.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["cargo.mrlb_concept_wcheck2"]]

[User] What's worse than throwing money at something that's already failed?

[Assistant] "You should invest in the RCM!"

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[Assistant] "He should what?"

[User] "The volunteer police force? And why would I do that?"

[Assistant] "Because if you don't, who will?"

[User] "I don't believe in handouts, especially for people who *volunteered* for their positions..."

[Assistant] "Still, the idea of a privatized police force is *extremely* forward thinking. You could even say it's *ultra* ultraliberal..."

[User] "Tell me, if you could invest in the RCM, where would you direct your resources?"

[Assistant] Bigger guns! Large-calibre motherfuckers that leave exit wounds the size of grapefruits.

[User] The latest technological wonders.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["cargo.mrlb_halflight_guns"]]


[User] "Look what the tide brought in," the man says in a measured tone. Suddenly, his expression changes and he tilts his head...

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: CheckEquipped("shirt_t500")  and  (CheckEquipped("shoes_t500")  or  CheckEquipped("gloves_t500")  or  CheckEquipped("hat_t500"))]

[User] "I wanna call you a teapot, but I'm honestly kind of impressed... no idea where you got all that gear -- but there's no doubt in my mind that some bad, bad people are looking for it..."

[Assistant] "Also, you look like a fucking idiot."

[User] Whatever this is, it is completely unimportant compared to what you've just *seen*.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["whirling.vicquemare_main_hub_reached"]) == false]

[User] "Cuno, you still have my back, right?"

[Assistant] "We're all pigs here." He nods to you, then straightens his back.

[User] Even though we're all pigs here, you and Cuno are more pigs than the rest of the pigs. He'll have your back -- only later.

[Assistant] "No one else seems bothered by my *style*."

[User] "Bothered by it? Harry, you're a *goddamn* cop! They're afraid of you!"

[Assistant] Now that you start thinking about it -- maybe they *were* afraid of you...


[User] "Titus Hardie gave me a recording. On it, the deceased says he intends to rape someone."

[Assistant] She puts her coffee cup down.

[User] With a soft ring, as the porcelain meets the metal table.

[Assistant] This does not surprise her.

[User] "Did he?" A smile flits across her face. "I never said he was a good man. Or that he had good intentions -- only that he was never bad to me."

[Assistant] She doesn't care. If anything, she sounds amused.

[User] "On this tape he specifically identifies *you* as the target."

[Assistant] "Mmm. Where did they get this recording, exactly?"

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[Assistant] "Intercepted radio chatter. It sounded authentic enough."

[User] "Does he says he's gonna do it *Soldier of the Apocalypse*-style?" She arches her brow.

[Assistant] "No."

[User] "Then you didn't get the Greatest Hits, officer." She shakes her head slowly. "It's probably for the best... Hm. Hang on..."

[Assistant] "Did he say *whores* a lot?... Was he pretty much on the verge of *doing it Co Hoi-style*?"

[User] "Yes. The word *whore* was used."

[Assistant] "He liked the way it *sounded* when he said it. As to Co Hoi..." The young woman lights a new cigarette with the butt of her old one.


[User] The mug, I'm getting that mug too.

[Assistant] You pick out a broken mug, with an oddly racist depiction of *the yellow man* frolicking in saffron.

[User] (Take the mug.)

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["backyard.gary_mugs"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[Assistant] "Mhm..." The lieutenant briefly glances at the mug, then returns his sight to the trash.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["tc.turn_off_tutorial_node"]  or  Variable["character.interactable_tutorial_seen"]]

[Assistant] Time for bed again. Crawl inside for real...

[User] The smell of rotten food rises up at you as you climb inside the trash container.

[Assistant] [Close the lid.]


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["boardwalk.feld_mural_main_hub_reached"]]

[Assistant] The once-bright mural towers above you, saying "FELD ELECTRICAL R&D."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["boardwalk.mural_look_in"]  and  IsKimHere() == false]

[Assistant] Somewhere in Martinaise, Lieutenant Kitsuragi is consulting his notebook... A sudden draught turns a page between his hands. You're going to need him if you want to listen to the wind.

[User] Listen to the wind.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["boardwalk.feld_mural_shivers_white_succeeded"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["boardwalk.feld_mural_shivers_white_failed_thrice"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["boardwalk.feld_mural_shivers_white_failed_twice"]]

[User] For what? A song carried on the breeze? Or children laughing, far away? You walk and walk these city streets and deserted coast, and all it ever tells you -- is cold.

[Assistant] No. There is something else. In the wind.


[User] "Let's start from the top."

[Assistant] "You humiliated me. I don't care what your political beliefs are, but you painted me with the same brush. Publicly."

[User] "I have been defamed over *live radio*. That has never happened to me before. And it *never* will again."

[Assistant] "If you ever dare do anything like that again -- even close to it -- I will have you sanctioned. That was abhorrent."

[User] This hurts. It should. Apologize and try to make it right.

[Assistant] Say nothing.

[User] "Let's finish this case." The lieutenant shakes his head. "I want to be done with it, now."

[Assistant] "There's no doubt the twins heard Speedfreaks FM," he says, still tempering his anger. "I still don't know how, without a radio -- but they did."

[User] "Hold up, Kim. Aren't you going to say anything about meeting your radio heroes?"

[Assistant] "Nope."

[User] The final word on this matter has been spoken.

[Assistant] "We're not any closer to knowing *how* they heard it, though, are we?"


[User] Here we are again, my broken bird. The waves are coming... carrying you away... but you can't go. No -- you have to stay. Always half-aware of yourself.

[Assistant] You're not *cooperating* brother-man.

[User] Why?

[Assistant] It's your disgusting *body*. Even through your sleep, you feel a vague discomfort suffusing it. Your belly and your sides are unpleasantly tender. You wish you could curl up into a foetal ball of safety, but you cannot -- because of the PAIN.

[User] And there's a lot of it. Ever present in your organs. It's like every one of them has their own *nasty* song to sing.

[Assistant] That pain in your right side is your enlarged liver, by the way. As for your kidneys... you've really been compounding the damage lately. And, trust me, you don't want me to do the maths.

[User] Every cell in your body is moaning in agony, asking,  "What did we ever do to you?"

[Assistant] I'm sorry, cells! It's all me! It's my fault!

[User] *Now* you're finally thinking about something other than yourself. Let's see how far that'll get you.

[Assistant] Hey, what is this? I was on the express to Zero-Holm!

[User] Now, you've gone off the rails, baby, now you're stuck sitting here by the tracks, admiring the wreck around you. You just can't help it: looking at yourself, the sum total of your *accomplishments*...

[Assistant] You're just stuck here. In the half-world. Could try looking at other people. *Really* looking. But why would you want to start doing that?


[User] *Something* isn't right about this game.

[Assistant] Take a closer look.

[User] Despite his limp, the man in the uniform moves with efficient grace. His motions are measured and precise.

[Assistant] The jolly-looking man in the checkered jacket moves lazily. Like a giant tomcat stretched out in the sun...

[User] ...then suddenly he leans forward and uses the 0-end of the measuring tape to nudge his opponent's balls further from the small brown sphere in the pit. As he does this, he complains about his back.

[Assistant] Apparently oblivious to his partner's treachery, the uniformed man grabs a ball and takes aim again.


[User] "Do I know how to turn back time...?" He gives you a sideways glance. "Is that a trick question?"

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["plaza.fascha_dq_asked_someone_the_q"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[Assistant] A question for an answer, huh? The answer must be really obvious.

[User] "I don't joke around about time, Gary." (Stare at him intently.)

[Assistant] "Phew..." He scratches his head. "I don't know what to tell you. I mean of course there are *theories* out there..."

[User] The further out, the better.

[Assistant] "What kind of theories are we talking about here?"

[User] "Well, there's a very interesting cryptid known as the Semper Maa. And a certain tribe of ancient kipts who practiced 'digital castigation,' though frankly I don't know how *compelling* you'll find that theory..."

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[User] "But then, there are rumours going around that the Seolites have developed a technology that allows them to move through time like it's a corridor. Back and forth, you see."

[Assistant] No. They haven't.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["plaza.tracks_viscal_wc_success_done"]]

[Assistant] The tracks are as they have ever been. A bit more worn, perhaps. Fortunately, the street sweeper still hasn't noticed their presence.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[Assistant] This is significant somehow.

[User] Maybe. Probably.

[Assistant] An ominous warning of bad things ahead.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["boardwalk.ruby_third_merc"] == true) == false]

[Assistant] "Ruud? Ruud is the killer --" The armoured woman smiles a vicious smile. "Ruud 'The Killer' Hoenkloewen -- he doesn't talk much."

[User] "... all of you fucking cunts inside out..."

[Assistant] "What was that, Ruud?"

[User] "... rip you open..."

[Assistant] Perhaps it's for the best. Him not talking *too* much.

[User] "Okay. Let's just keep talking -- no one needs to die today." (Back off.)

[Assistant] "This... talking-shit won't help you." The man shakes his head and staggers forward.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (CheckItem("gun_villiers")  or  CheckItem("gun_ruby")  or  CheckItem("spirit_bomb")) == false]

[Assistant] Light the spirit bomb and launch it at him.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["plaza.tribunal_throw_the_spirit_bomb_at_kortenaer"]) == false]

[Assistant] You throw the bomb and it's way off.

[User] IT'S A *FIASCO*, BRATAN!

[Assistant] Even at this distance, you can still make out the ugly tie suspended in blue liquid. It looks extremely worried.


[User] A shift in temperature. The air chills around you. Dust settles on the stony floor.

[Assistant] Rub your sides for warmth.

[User] A former architect stands before a slice of window, a room plan in her hand. A cold wave has made the air in the building stand still and frozen, with temperatures falling down to -20°C.

[Assistant] Her face...

[User] ...is red from the cold. She's breathing on her fingers clasping the plan. Traces of sadness are visible in her expression.

[Assistant] Look around yourself...

[User] It's clean and empty, with new tapestry embellishing the walls. A standard HB graphite pencil has fallen off a three-legged stool in the middle of the room.

[Assistant] She had an eye for beauty.

[User] The plan...

[Assistant] ... faint pencil lines on paper depict the same place, but a missing eastern wall connects the room with the neighbouring apartment. Ideas for arranging the furniture have been jotted down.


[User] "Are there any *invisible* cryptids?"

[Assistant] "What an interesting question! And the answer is: yes, there are!"

[User] "Of course. All fairy tales have someone or something invisible in them."

[Assistant] "You're right Kim, it's childish, but I need to know."

[User] "Okay. I won't spoil your fun," the lieutenant concedes. "What is the invisible cryptid?"

[Assistant] "It's the *Col Do Ma Ma Daqua*," the woman corrects her glasses. "Its name means 'thin whisper of sound'. And that's *precisely* what it is -- self-replicating sound waves, invisible and intangible! The Col Do Ma Ma is very afraid of us, which makes it incredibly difficult to track..."

[User] "Col Do Ma Ma Daqua" can also be translated as "a whisper light and low."

[Assistant] "Why is the Ma Ma Daqua so afraid of us?"

[User] "That is a sad story." She frowns. "A group of university students assisting with the field work, in their enthusiasm for the project and, no doubt, because they were preoccupied with impressing their professors, nearly drove it to *extinction*."

[Assistant] "Extinction?"

[User] She nods gravely. "They tried to communicate with it, and had no other means but sound. So they started sending out sound waves at frequencies they thought might match the Ma Ma Daqua's. And what happens when a sound wave meets another sound wave of the same frequency, dear?"

[Assistant] This lady really should be a teacher. She's really good at the explaining things thing.


[User] A threat? Retaliate immediately. You'll see -- they'll fall over like bitch-leaves. These boys ain't got the *cojones*.

[Assistant] "Don't fuck with me, boys. I'm one of the bad cops."

[User] "Whoa... c'mon, man..." He raises his open palms. "We're just talking here. Just words, nothing wrong with that."

[Assistant] "Yeah, no need to throw your authority in our faces."

[User] That's right! Way to put them in the little boys corner!

[Assistant] "You wanna talk? Let's talk, boys." His eyes meet yours. "Ask them."

[User] He liked how you decisively shut down a situation that could have turned into a farce.

[Assistant] "Your rhetoric is confusing. Are you a part of the SKULLS or not?"

[User] "We're not *franchised* SKULLS -- well, not yet. Once we get our name out there, we'll have a chance to join them."

[Assistant] "I see."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["plaza.pissandfuck_put_the_punks_to_their_place"]]

[Assistant] "But in a non-threatening and definitely legal way," the other one quickly adds and whispers something to his friend.

[User] "We'll fuck the system from the inside later, just be cool now. The damage will be tenfold."

[Assistant] "Right on, Fuck," the blond agrees and provocatively spits on the pavement. "So what's happening now?"


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["TASK.report_to_the_tribunal_done"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["whirling.medicine_steal_hub_reached"]]

[User] This medicine cabinet is stocked with drugs, plus an old toothbrush, and...

[Assistant] Search for the Preptide again.

[User] There it is, the orange sun wearing blister pack. You feel almost *nostalgic* for it.

[Assistant] [Close the cabinet.]


[User] And then -- sleep doesn't come.

[Assistant] But I *want* to sleep...

[User] Obviously -- you're in bed with your eyes closed. But it's not happening.

[Assistant] Why?

[User] Maybe it's the bed's fault?

[Assistant] Check the blanket.

[User] It barely covers your toes, stretching over your soft belly. This is your body here, intimate and warm, breathing...

[Assistant] A bit tense in the muscles -- relax.

[User] Breathing, are you sure? Your heart beats a little bit faster at this unnerving thought.

[Assistant] Under your thrumming eyelids, you see a dizzying array of colours. You won't get off this carousel quite so easily.

[User] Check the pillow.

[Assistant] Its synthetic filling has separated into hard lumps. The pillowcase smells oddly.

[User] Smells of alcohol and sweat. And grease.

[Assistant] Check the pillow.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["TASK.inspect_traps_2_done"]]

[Assistant] "Hello, sweetie. How are you?" She sounds tired.

[User] Dark circles around her eyes. She's absolutely exhausted.

[Assistant] She asked about you because she's afraid to hear about the traps. But that's what she really wants news of.

[User] "I ran into your husband on the coast."

[Assistant] "Goodness! How is he? Did he say why he hasn't returned yet?" The old woman clasps her hands together over her blanket.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["coast.morell_greeting_done"]]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["coast.morell_kim_there_no_task_greet"]  and  IsKimHere()]

[User] "He's fine, ma'am. He couldn't get back earlier because the water lock on the canal was broken. Now he's just finishing up some work."

[Assistant] "Oh, yes, that's my Morell -- he's bound to catch a cold, staying out there for so long... "

[User] "But I am so relieved to hear that he's okay. Thank you for putting an old woman's heart at ease, if even a little."

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["TASK.report_to_cryptozoologists_1"]]


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[Assistant] I don't care what it is.

[User] Twelve name cards on the call box read:

[Assistant] (Empty card.)

[User] This button looks new, but someone has removed the name card. Nothing happens when you try to ring it.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["doomed.dicemaker_greeting_done"]]

[Assistant] "Hmm... this button looks new. I wouldn't be surprised if it hasn't been connected yet. Is it the dicemaker's?" He takes a step back, inspecting the other names on the list.

[User] "East Delta Pinball (Entrance from building B)."

[Assistant] Silence. No one answers your call.


[User] A machine stands in the corner, watched over by the figures on the stained glass window. It's turned on and quivering with soft electricity.

[Assistant] Another radiocomputer! Could it bear connection to the one in the Doomed Commercial Area?

[User] This is the Rehm Prefect, radiocomputer model number RC7024, equipped with a Feld mainframe and a Rehm-compatible Interim printer.

[Assistant] The Rehm Prefect is the governmental version of the commonly used Rehm Civic. Although mostly based on the same technology, the Rehm Prefect is equipped with better noise attenuation circuits.

[User] Better not touch it. Who knows what evils it may hide.

[Assistant] Back off. [Leave.]


[User] "What with?" She tries hard to focus on the book stand.

[Assistant] What *with*? A lot of things! For example, people tend to go *missing*.

[User] This citizen thinks she can do without your assistance? Don't buy it. They all need help.

[Assistant] Help her by... carrying things? Uhm... maybe she needs a weightlifter? Maybe she needs you to *fight* her husband? No, that's not it...

[User] "Maybe your *cockatoo* is missing?"

[Assistant] "I don't mean to disrespect, sir, but *you* are being a bit of a cockatoo here."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[Assistant] "Ma'am, I was asking about your cockatoo. Is it missing?"

[User] "I don't even have a cockatoo. And guess what?"

[Assistant] It's a trap. Never ever say *what*.

[User] "Alright, cockatoo not missing. I just wanted to make sure."

[Assistant] "Great." She turns her attention back to the bookstand.

[User] "Great. Got it."

[Assistant] "Wonderful."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["doomed.breakerbox_black_wire_plugged_out"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsTaskActive("TASK.help_soona_with_her_project")--[[ Variable[ ]]]

[User] This orange machine is buzzing like an old submarine. It has a hand-cranked ice cream churner on top and an electric freezer that appears to be frozen shut.

[Assistant] Crack open the lid.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["doomed.icecreammaker_whitecheck_open_the_fridge"]]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (CheckEquipped("kvalsund_multitool")) == false]

[User] The ice squeaks beneath the prybar -- you could *swear* you succeeded! -- but the lid simply won't budge.

[Assistant] What is this...

[User] You see the prybar's metal handle bending, right before your very eyes.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: CheckItem("kvalsund_multitool")]


[User] The compact tape player is still and silent. Seems it has completely broken down now.

[Assistant] The machine was made in Revachol by a company called Lemercier -- their logo depicts the triple-towered Delta skyline. It was supposedly built to last.

[User] There is no fixing this one.

[Assistant] "This would have been *very* helpful with the 'Megamix'." He stares at the tape player. "But it isn't anymore."

[User] Fuck is that going to achieve? Being a smart-ass... making your nostrils flare.

[Assistant] "It's not *my* fault."


[User] The scruffy-haired little boy kicks a stone. He can't be more than five years old.

[Assistant] The other one looks indistinguishable from him. He watches his brother kick the stone with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

[User] "You guys look identical."

[Assistant] The stone-kicking one becomes frantic all of a sudden, as if that's something to be scared of -- the obvious fact that you just stated.

[User] "He looks just like me," the other one says.

[Assistant] "Bye." [Leave.]


[User] The pearlescent paper adamantly resists being held open -- it demands struggle at both ends. The print inside is just as taxing due to its fine and curlicued font. The most attractive part is the image emblazoned across the top.

[Assistant] Feisty little thing! But don't worry -- it's under control.

[User] Devious use of Swish there. It's a font literally *designed* to win legal agreements by way of being almost unreadable through flamboyance.

[Assistant] Look at the top of the document.

[User] Inside an oval frame is a grey sketch of a curly-haired girl enthusiastically riding an industrial drill. It's churning up hard chunks of rocky ground and scattering them into the air. In the hole created beneath is a silvery river of liquid metal.

[Assistant] An underground kingdom of shimmering spillways! Silver stars melted down and filtered for their precious discharge. What a place of inspiration!

[User] Her form is terrible! She needs to straighten her back and increase the downward pressure on that machine. Has *no one* taught her about ergonomics?

[Assistant] Attempt to read the words.

[User] Each letter is shaped like a laugh line being pulled in a million different  directions. They're all grinning at you -- pleased with practically being indecipherable.

[Assistant] You can do this. Maybe squinting will help?

[User] Start with the biggest letters in order to learn the characteristics of the style. Then work your way down.

[Assistant] Focus on the header.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["doomed.seen_furnace"]]

[Assistant] A thick layer of coal dust covers the furnace, colouring it pitch-black.

[User] Smear your hands with coal.

[Assistant] A lush layer of coal now covers your skin, sinking into the wrinkles. Your hands look ancient.

[User] You feel the spirit of Ramout Karzai, ancient hero of Graad, pulsing through you. All that's left is to cover your face in war-paint.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["doomed.furnace_concept_warpaint_your_face"]) == false]

[User] Maybe you could *paint* something with this coal? Leave a cave painting for future archaeologists... no, that would be stupid.

[Assistant] Still, it's good you have this dirt on you. Real men wear *coal* for make-up.

[User] Look inside the furnace.

[Assistant] It's dark and grimy here. In the darkness, you can hear *chatter*. It's coming from above. A voice -- or several voices -- talking to each other, near the smoke chamber upstairs.

[User] The echo is so prominent, it's impossible to discern what the voices are saying. Or what's producing them.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["plaza.flaubert_greeting_done"]]

[Assistant] "That ride is fucking lightning!" the young man exclaims.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["plaza.flaubert_total_cunt"]) == false]

[Assistant] "Hey, Pissf****t, look who it is! Shrunken cop head material!"

[User] "Do you guys know Cindy the SKULL?"

[Assistant] "Oh yeah, Cindy's a right proper SKULL..." The young man's eyes glaze over, his voice filled with longing.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["pier.cindy_rhetoric_communist"]) == false]

[Assistant] "Yeah," the other guy lights up too. "A true artist of the future, just like Arno van Eyck."

[User] "By the way, if you see Cindy, give her our regards," he adds, returning from whatever void he was just visiting.

[Assistant] For all their nihilistic posturing, these young men are not lacking in youthful idealism.

[User] Odd. There isn't a hint of hate in them. It's like they're 'Pissf****t' and 'Fuck the World' out of some kind moral obligation.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]


[User] The door is closed.

[Assistant] Knock.

[User] "Who is it?" A woman's voice answers -- muffled by the door.

[Assistant] Tired. Controlled.

[User] Somewhere not far from here the lieutenant is preparing her file. "Klaasje Amandou," he writes. You realize the detective should be here for what comes next. It could prove... *dangerous* to go in alone.

[Assistant] Knock.


[User] You see rows of toy soldiers guarding the rest of the trinkets displayed on the table: some on horseback, others in rags, others yet in bright blue uniforms. All are stern and unyielding in their duty.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["canal.roy_inland_buy_done"]) == false]

[User] Try to find something pretty and cool here. Then use it to win her back!

[Assistant] Inspect the blue uniforms.

[User] They're not all blue. These figurines also wear gold coats and caps, complimented by orange trousers. They are variously posed, wielding swords and rifles with bayonets.

[Assistant] (Point at the blue figurines.) "Are these royalist soldiers?"

[User] "Which ones?" The man peers from his glass box. "Ah, those! Yes, they are. I find the paint job a bit gaudy, but children like bright colours indiscriminately."

[Assistant] Purchase the Headless FALN Rider and his cap.

[User] "Did I mention that this figurine is supposed to be lucky? Always carry it with you." He grins.

[Assistant] That was a very smooth salesman's grin that almost comes off as earnest. You should learn from him.

[User] Inspect the knights on horseback.

[Assistant] Big men on big horses clad in lamellar armour and carrying flintlocks. The kind that would mow down a line of enemy soldiers in the blink of an eye.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["doomed.breakerbox_black_wire_plugged_out"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsTaskActive("TASK.help_soona_with_her_project")--[[ Variable[ ]]]

[User] This orange machine is buzzing like an old submarine. It has a hand-cranked ice cream churner on top and an electric freezer that appears to be frozen shut.

[Assistant] Crack open the lid.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["doomed.icecreammaker_whitecheck_open_the_fridge_2"]) == false]

[Assistant] Ice squeaks beneath your Kvalsund multitool, but your fingers slip away from the tool, the lid shut as tightly as before.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["doomed.breakerbox_greeting_done"]]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["doomed.breakerbox_black_wire_plugged_out"]) == false]

[User] Unplugging the ice cream maker will allow it to defrost.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (CheckEquippedGroup("gloves")) == false]


[User] Why's he shifting around like that? Analyze Gary's composure.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.gary_white_check_succeeded"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["coast.gary_white_check_succeeded_failed"]]

[Assistant] Okay, he keeps shifting uncomfortably, but you can't make head or tail of this sound -- and honestly it's rude to stare, so stop.

[User] "Gary, do you know how to turn back time?"

[Assistant] "Do I know how to turn back time...?" He gives you a sideways glance. "Is that a trick question?"

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["plaza.fascha_dq_asked_someone_the_q"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[User] A question for an answer, huh? The answer must be really obvious.

[Assistant] "I don't joke around about time, Gary." (Stare at him intently.)


[User] "Most certainly, Harry." The big man nods merrily. "Nothing brightens my day like brainstorming these things with you."

[Assistant] "Tell me about Titus Hardie and his crew."

[User] "Oh, they are simply fine young men -- all seven of them! Exemplary Union members. Always working to advance their position in the local socialist-democratic movement. Core members."

[Assistant] "Old Theo used to run them, but things really *kicked into gear* when Titus took the reins and named the group after himself." He starts laughing. "Gotta love his initiative."

[User] "What more can you tell me? Who's second in command? Who's the most violent?"

[Assistant] "Harry, they're almost all of them *great* guys, born leaders. Whatever happened, I'm sure they only had the best interests of Revachol in mind."

[User] "Work with them -- hell, interview them! But don't fight them. They really are just like you -- men who like beer, women, and some *order* on the streets."

[Assistant] Separate one from the herd.

[User] "So let me ask you this... Which one of Hardie's boys is your least favourite?"

[Assistant] "Oh, that would definitely be Fat Angus. His feet smell from a city-block away and he's always having noisy stomach troubles. Horrible, revolting guy."


[User] There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. Your conscience ferments in it -- no larger than a single grain of malt. You don't have to do anything anymore.

[Assistant] Ever.

[User] Never ever.

[Assistant] (Simply keep on non-existing.)

[User] An inordinate amount of time passes.  It is utterly void of struggle. No ex-wives are contained within it.

[Assistant] This is great!

[User] Yes. It. Is.

[Assistant] Gimme some more.

[User] You got it, sweet brother! Nothing upon nothing, upon nothing!

[Assistant] I like nothing.

[User] I know you do, baby... I know...

[Assistant] How about you cough up some more of that sweet oblivion?

[User] Coming right up, sir. Smooth passage...

[Assistant] Allons-y, let's go!

[User] All right. Nothingtown to Fuck-All-Borough!

[Assistant] A return trip to The Silence please!


[User] You were too pushy last time. Think this through, try to really *understand* the psychological bond Cuno has with Cunoesse.

[Assistant] Okay. So what's the deal with Cunoesse?

[User] Just look -- while Cuno has no problem being near you, she always hides behind the fence, afraid for her life, like she's *done* something. Something very bad.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["yard.cuno_punchhub_reached"]]

[User] She came up with that psychopathic scheme of screaming for help before. Cuno just wanted to talk to you about his name. Cunoesse was the one who wound him up and directed him.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["yard.cunoesse_main_hub_reached"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["yard.cunoesse_reaction_speed_shes_a_girl"]]

[Assistant] And then there's the fact that she's a girl. And appears to be a little younger, certainly smaller. And yet Cuno is afraid of her. What's up with *that*, Cuno?

[User] All in all, Cuno respects madness. You cannot hope to outdo her on that front. You must win yourself a few minutes with him alone.

[Assistant] (Act on it, try and separate them.) "Cuno! Psst..."

[User] "Fuck you whispering about?" he whispers back.

[Assistant] He's whispering too. He's going with it. But watch what happens...


[User] There is nothing.

[Assistant] Again.

[User] Just lie there, passed out.

[Assistant] Well, *almost* nothing. There is the ground below you. That's still there. And the small light that's on -- fluttering -- somewhere in the Basal Ganglia.

[User] Who's that?

[Assistant] That's me, blue eyes. That's me.

[User] Nice and quiet.

[Assistant] Is it? The world is gone, you're no longer reacting to outward stimuli. Yet still...

[User] ...a bitter, caustic sense of loss remains. Even in the darkness, great sorrows slip in the water -- slimy.

[Assistant] Yeah, that's the stuff!

[User] Here in the Paleo-Mammalian Cortex we call it -- *the shadow*.

[Assistant] Because it's always there.

[User] Tell him! Tell him!

[Assistant] Ah, yes. And in the olfactory system they call it The Apricot Chewing Gum Scented One. It's unhealthy of them to linger on it so. But -- as they say -- what do you do?

[User] Smelled like betrayal.

[Assistant] Yeah, man. Fuck *everything*. Total blackout forever.


[User] You feel something in your chest. An unnatural pressure. It's spreading to your left arm, your jaw...

[Assistant] We've been here before. You've got this.

[User] Fucking shit, I'm scared. What do I do? Who do I call?

[Assistant] Don't go grabbing at your chest and screaming bloody murder. Keep your cool. Remember -- looking good always makes you feel better.

[User] The end of the world is here.

[Assistant] Don't think this is a sign of anything other than your heart failing.

[User] Let it all go.

[Assistant] There's no shame in surrendering now. We all do, it gets *so* dark. You don't even see her face, like you always thought you would. You only see pain and fear.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["yard.cuno_punchhub_reached"]) == false]

[Assistant] "Cuno's Cuno, pig!" The boy points to his chest with both thumbs.

[User] It's always *Cuno*, never *I*. Clearly the kid's using the third-person perspective as a shield.

[Assistant] Cuno... Primal. Violent.

[User] "Got it -- I had another question."

[Assistant] "Shoot that shit at Cuno, piggonaut."

[User] "Cuno, I found your shack." (Point to the shack.)

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["XP.befriend_the_cuno"]) == false]

[User] "You found Cuno's secret door to Cuno's secret shack?! It was closed for five thousand years. How the fuck did you get in?"

[Assistant] "Before we go on with that let's talk about how you said it was just some roofing material some gimps left behind. That was a *lie*."

[User] "Pig, that's the past. You and Cuno are *now*. Let's talk about how you opened the secret door, fucking at Cuno's kingdom."

[Assistant] "I *phase-shifted* through the roofing material."

[User] "Shit... get the fuck out of here! You can't do that."

[Assistant] "He can't do that, Cuno! He's tryin'a fuck at you again!"


[User] Is that an Insulindian phasmid? It looks like an Insulindian phasmid. Quick -- catch it before it scuttles away!

[Assistant] Pirouette toward the phasmid.

[User] Beautiful leap! But this isn't a phasmid in your hand -- it is a fishing rod.

[Assistant] "What are you trying to accomplish, Harry?"

[User] "Uh, it's a novel fishing method."

[Assistant] "Perhaps we should try it out in the wild sometime."


[User] "Okay, so, we've got the old fuck." The kid whispers, his eyes bugging out of his skull with excitement.

[Assistant] "Do you think he did it?"

[User] A crooked little smile. "Oh fuck, he's practically dyin' to big up how he did it. Just get him to cough it up. Cuno's got your back."

[Assistant] "How do you think the questioning is going?"

[User] "Good." He nods. "I think it's going really fucking well." He leans closer. "Just cut it with the punching shit, alright? Makes us look like we got nothing."

[Assistant] You hear that? He thinks you're very close...

[User] "I'm trying to get him to confess..."

[Assistant] "Yes, Cuno can see that. You got this. Think of like..." He rubs his nose. "... what *other* shit he's done too. Cuno can tell he's a killer."


[User] A small cabinet on the wall is filled with various medicine bottles, nasal sprays and blister packs. They all bear the Saint-Batiste Pharmaceutics logo.

[Assistant] "Uhm, just ask me if you need anything from Saint-Batiste. We don't stock prescription meds, but we do have nosaphed, drouamine, magnesium and hypnogamma."

[User] "I'll take some Hypnogamma."

[Assistant] "Mkay, here. I hope Saint-Batiste makes you feel better or something."

[User] "What do those products do?"

[Assistant] "Uhm... I don't know, let's see... Nosaphed is a nasal spray. Drouamine is a really good painkiller. Magnesium is a dietary supplement. Hypnogamma is..." She stops.

[User] "I don't really know what Hypnogamma is. I guess it makes you feel less shit? It's recommended to use after lots of partying, studying, or exercising."

[Assistant] "Can you be a little more... specific?"


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["yard.sense_viscal_greeting_done"]]

[Assistant] Starting from the right: Boot size 44. Blond man in his thirties. Overbearingly masculine.

[User] Wants the world to know he's a macho-macho man: tobacco-chewing and knuckle cracking. Who else do we have here?

[Assistant] Sitting on his right: standard working boots, size 45 or 46. Eldest in the room, probably mid-fifties. Smoker, quiet.

[User] Coughs a lot.

[Assistant] Across, at the other table: hobnailed working boots, size 43. Gang tattoos. Mesque or Saramirizian. In his late thirties/early forties.

[User] He spent his youth in Villalobos, a housing project in the Jamrock Quarter. There were incarcerations. Hard to say what else -- the ink is fading.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["whirling.hardeie_scan_the_room_encyclo_fired"]) == false]

[User] A symmetric burn on his neck, resembling the letters *Los Los*. Has he tried to burn it off, leave that life behind?

[Assistant] And then -- standard working boot, steel reinforced toes, size 46. The big dick. Wide at the shoulders and lean at the hips. Rugby cap, fingerless gloves, and numerous scars, a little under forty.

[User] The emblem on his vest says 'Rowing club'. A little patch below it reads: 'T. Hardie, Captain'.

[Assistant] In the far corner: standard working boot, steel reinforced toes, size 44. Forty-something, non-alcoholic beverage in hand. (You squint.) Is that a *plectrum*?

[User] And the little guy?

[Assistant] Size 41, with the light step. Not a child after all -- an older man with a rat-face; mean watery eyes and two front teeth missing.

[User] In the middle, heaving and wheezing: big guy, boot size 46, deep marks. Probably carried the victim over. He alone is 130 kilos; add the man in armour and you could easily exceed 220.

[Assistant] Awful smell. His feet stink from all the way over there, despite having boots on.


[User] "I'm listening."

[Assistant] "You... liked Klaasje *a lot*."

[User] "I considered her a good friend, yeah."

[Assistant] "There are... other things I... ask about." (Conclude.)

[User] "Go ahead -- it's your body."

[Assistant] "Hngh..."

[User] And mine too, he thinks -- but keep on. This must be done.

[Assistant] "Would you say that Lely was... a *likeable* person?"

[User] "I didn't like him. Hardened mercenaries aren't particularly likeable types."

[Assistant] "You don't feel... sympathy for mercs? It's hard work."

[User] "Plenty of broken people who don't come with that kind of body count. Besides, they're paid well for what they do."

[Assistant] "I have other questions." (Conclude.)


[User] A cardboard sign hangs from the arm pointing out to sea. Written in shaky marker pen are the words: 'PALE SWALLOWS ALL'. What was once a gesture of great power has been hijacked to signal the ceaseless march of annihilation.

[Assistant] Your eyes glide over the horse, over its patina green coat. Something about the mount's sad animal-eyes makes you pause...

[User] Was it worth it?

[Assistant] The thought rings hollow in your silent mind. It's even quieter on the roundabout, under the brilliant sun.

[User] You can feel the lieutenant's stillness next to you...

[Assistant] It's fucking lonely at the top.

[User] The doom crier above seems to agree.

[Assistant] A figure in a day dress, cuddled up in an armchair... she looks up and smiles at you across the living room.


[User] "We have transmitted our summary to the Committee of Responsibility. Please continue standing by..."

[User] "Wie kannst du... unseren Jungen... auf einem dieser *Dinger*..."

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["church.soona_archer_working_soona"]]

[User] "Officer, I'm afraid the connection is beginning to collapse..."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["canal.roy_intro_done"]) == false]

[Assistant] "It's not often that I see officers from the RCM in my pawnshop." The man at the counter turns to you slowly.

[User] "What can I do for you?" he asks.

[Assistant] His courtesy is not insincere, but he prefers being alone with his projector, just watching the movement of light across the walls of the shop.

[User] (Shake your head.) "It's shameful, how insufficient the police presence is in these parts!"

[Assistant] "I haven't had any problems myself... though some of my customers have complained about inconsistent law enforcement."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[Assistant] "Who are your customers usually?"

[User] "All kinds of people come through here... Locals, travellers. People looking for a deal. People looking for a keepsake. People who are terminally bored."

[Assistant] "As you can see... I have a wide selection of goods for everyone to choose from."

[User] (Nod.) "Quite the collection indeed."

[Assistant] "It keeps me entertained." His attention is drawn once more to the play of light and shadow on the walls behind you.

[User] He's well composed, but underneath it you sense *psychedelic* processes, bubbling. Some kind of drug maybe?

[Assistant] Entertained? He might be high -- if he is, on what?


[User] Touch it with your finger, gently. (Proceed.)

[Assistant] A black trickle of liquid runs into his throat from the wound...

[User] Put your finger in.

[Assistant] Your index fits right in there. A tight tunnel of flesh opens up -- tissue damage -- wide enough for two fingers. As you push both in, you reach through his mouth, right into his brain stem.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["doomed.fridge_corpse_in_fridge"]]

[Assistant] Push deeper.

[User] Your fingers slide into the remains of his limbic system. There is no resistance. It's gelatinous. The slug-like structures are damaged too, the tearing extends deep into both hemispheres.

[Assistant] This is what he used to regulate his emotions with...

[User] The ululations of the limbic system have ended. All is quiet.

[Assistant] Push deeper.

[User] Your fingers are all the way in now, reaching toward the inside of his skull. The cavity goes further, but the entry wound isn't wide enough for the rest of your hand to follow...

[Assistant] All the muscles in your body harden. Time to *enter* him.

[User] Punch a hole through his mouth.

[Assistant] The cartilage gives in with a crack, like some fruit. Just like that your hand is in his head. Strange fluid streams down your wrist -- and then you feel it, with the tip of your finger...

[User] Sharp, serrated material. The edges cut right into your skin.

[Assistant] The pain is barely noticeable under the adrenaline rush.


[User] Is there something here that would indicate a sniper used this place as a nest for taking the shot? Just some urban detritus, a bottle and a dilapidated old comms tower.

[Assistant] The wind picks up. Fine sea foam lashes your face. It feels like needles. You can take it -- just raise your collar, detective.

[User] In the distance you can hear the breakers roar.

[Assistant] "I don't see it, officer. I don't see a person take a shot here and hit something there..." He looks east, over the coast. "In the Whirling-in-Rags."

[User] Maybe the campfire was used by the perpetrator?

[Assistant] To warm his hands before he pulled the trigger? There are no markings on the ground for a tripod, he would have had to lie on a mattress. This is simply not a good spot for a 1.2 kilometre shot.

[User] Maybe the assailant climbed the comms tower, took the shot there?

[Assistant] "It's not possible to climb that ladder and even if it were -- why? There's no platform up there to aim from." The lieutenant looks up, raising his collar.


[User] In the cabin you see a set of steering levers, a radio on a hook, a pull-out toolbox and the soft glow of the fuel pre-heater gauge.

[Assistant] Look in the suspect transport enclosure.

[User] The cage at the back of the motor carriage looks rather uncomfortable. Four shiny hubcaps are stacked against the seat. Their silver edges sparkle in the dark.

[Assistant] "I confiscated these four a little while back. We can take them to the pawnshop down by the Martinaise Canal."

[User] "What *are* those things?"

[Assistant] "They're spinner hubcaps -- frivolous things you put on your wheels. When the wheels come to a stop," he makes a spinning motion with his hands, "the caps keep on spinning. There's no real use for them, it's just for vanity."

[User] A vanity he wouldn't mind.

[Assistant] Honestly, that sounds like an *amazing* physics demonstration.

[User] "Thanks. I appreciate your help." (Take the spinners.)

[Assistant] The lieutenant nods as you take the spinners.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["plaza.kineema_intro_done"]]

[Assistant] Close the door. [Leave.]


[User] "Titus says he's got a tape where the deceased discusses committing rape. Tell me about it."

[Assistant] "You haven't listened to it?" She blows a column of smoke in the air. "You sure you don't want to hear it before questioning me?"

[User] "This is my investigation. I run it my way."

[Assistant] "Of course, officer. I'll cooperate." She taps her cigarette as she nods.  "I'm guessing he tried to give you the Doorgunner Megamix, yeah?"

[User] "They've got him saying he'd like to rape and kill. Do Revachol *Soldier of the Apocalypse*-style. It really upset the boys." Ash falls from her cigarette as she shrugs. "I never said he was a good man -- only that he wasn't bad to me."

[Assistant] "You like this kind of stuff?"

[User] "We're all scraping up any happiness we can find, officer. Going around with our little scouring sticks -- you, your first love, Mr. Soldier of the Apocalypse here..."

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[User] "Did he tell you he had actually *done* any of those things -- here in Martinaise, I mean?"

[Assistant] "No. We were too busy laying waste to our own nervous systems to direct any of the *fury* outward. He seemed..." She pauses. "He seemed happy, I guess. At ease. As much as a man like him could be."

[User] There is a small measure of pride in her about this. That she could comfort and quell the rage in such a being.

[Assistant] "That's about it, I think. It's not a very long tape." She takes another drag of her cigarette.

[User] "I'll ask one last time: Do you still deny that he assaulted you in any way?"

[Assistant] "I'm quite sure he didn't, officer." The young woman looks at you, bored, but smiles politely.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.payphone_interfacing_white_succeeded"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.payphone_made_fourth_prank_call"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["coast.payphone_hub_reached"]]

[Assistant] You pick up the handset. There's a tone -- the machine is operable.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.payphone_kim_one_time_grump"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.payphone_kim_said_stop"]) == false]

[Assistant] Put 10 cents in and dial the long phone number again.

[User] You dial the number again -- twenty six pulls of the rotary dial. The machine eats the coin and a terrifying ocean of distance rustles in your ear...

[Assistant] In the middle of it -- a familiar ring. Small. Distorted.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()  and  Variable["coast.morell_before_lena_day_2"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.morell_before_lena_day_2_wokim"]) == false]

[User] A little missing person's puzzle might be just the thing to take your mind off the hangover.

[Assistant] You hear that? Someone's *missing*. There could be *foul play* afoot!

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["whirling.lena_authority_missing"]]

[Assistant] Missing persons aren't really my style.

[User] You don't have a *style*, you have a *duty*. Now start asking questions, like a real law enforcement official.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["whirling.lena_logic_said_good_against_hangover"]]

[User] "This sounds more like a side thing. I need to take care of my *main thing* -- then I'll get back to this." [Leave.]

[Assistant] "Of course, sweetie. I'm probably working myself up over nothing anyway. I'll be right here." She glances out the window toward the bay.


[User] The movie stars are still smiling from the walls. There's a radio transmitter in the front and a pull-out toolbox tucked under the driver's seat. Some tools lie scattered near the pedals.

[Assistant] Pull out the pull-out toolbox.

[User] A metallic drawer slides out from the seat: It's empty, except for a folded newspaper.

[Assistant] Push in the pull-out toolbox.

[User] The pull-out toolbox slides back into its nest. The rest is as it was: radio, posters, a trace of motor oil smell under all the cigarettes.

[Assistant] Remove the radio transceiver.

[User] It takes a few moments, but eventually the transceiver slides from its greased socket mount with an eminently satisfying *chhhnk*.

[Assistant] Nearly the same sound produced by the action on a good breechloader, you can't fail to notice.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsKimHere()) == false]

[Assistant] "This has *got* to be better than your DynaWave."

[User] "An Esterhaz is certainly nothing to sniff at." The lieutenant nods. "But if you compare the feature sets, I would say they're more-or-less equivalent."

[Assistant] "That's okay. As long as it works."


[User] The dry grass crackles under your feet as you stop. Far away birds' wings touch the still surface of the sea...

[Assistant] What is that flutter?

[User] The flock of quail departs; now more than a hundred metres away... a hundred and two... a hundred and five...

[Assistant] Underneath the flutter...

[User] On the islet? There is almost no wind under the rain quietly falling on the reeds. Bulrushes swaying on the waterline, long dried leaves chafing against each other. The soft raindrops...

[Assistant] Like a silent orchestra tuning -- at the beginning of some major work.

[User] The great ghost of the air is holding its breath.

[Assistant] To the west...

[User] A silent hiss, sea air moving through the needles of a pine tree.

[Assistant] "Kim..."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[Assistant] "I don't *want* to. But you discovered a new species. And solved the murder..." He shrugs.

[User] "So I *have* to. Jude?"

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsTHCCookingOrFixed("the_waste_land_of_reality") or  SubstanceUsedOnce("alcohol") == false) == false]

[User] "Honestly -- anything that ends this *trial* is okay with me." A quick nod.

[Assistant] But he's been drinking, she thinks. This is exactly how he gets out of this every time. It's bad for him, but...

[User] "Agreed. The public relations potential of this is too valuable to let go."

[Assistant] "Okay." He sighs. "We have vehicles in the square. And the perpetrator needs to be taken into custody. Let's go."

[User] Now! Now you will *finally* get to know who you are!

[Assistant] "Wait. I have a *few* questions before we go. About who I am."

[User] The man looks westward, impatiently.

[Assistant] Jingling his car keys in his pocket.


[User] The woman gazes steadily at the waves. A sudden gust picks up her dark hair and lets it fall again, tussled, wild. She brushes a few stray locks from her eyes, and only then spots you approaching.

[Assistant] "Aye, so here you are. It's late and it's snowing. The snow is..." She extends her hand and catches a snowflake in her palm. "...Well, it's not really snow, it's slush."

[User] "Know that you're not the first guy to bring a girl to Land's End. This is what locals call a *make-out spot*. That is not going to happen here today -- I just want to make that clear, dimples." She turns to face the sea once more.

[Assistant] Her thoughts are still elsewhere -- with distances across the water, and with the water itself.

[User] Across the rusty water -- that's La Delta, the financial district. In the mist-covered distance, towers rise as a rebuke to the poverty of this coast.

[Assistant] "Kim, we ready to do this?"

[User] Keeping a tactful distance, the lieutenant takes out his notebook, demonstrating complete disinterest in your "date."

[Assistant] Don't be fooled. He's watching you to make sure you don't act unprofessionally.

[User] (Look at her) "You seem surprised that I made it."

[Assistant] She chuckles. "Drinking men aren't known for keeping their appointments."


[User] "Would you say that Lely was... a *likeable* person?"

[Assistant] "I didn't like him. Hardened mercenaries aren't particularly likeable types."

[User] "I have other questions." (Conclude.)

[Assistant] "I'm listening."

[User] "Do you have an... alibi? For when Lely was shot?"

[Assistant] "Man, I was with the boys the whole night. I hope they at least bothered to impress *that* upon you."

[User] "There were... ten minutes they couldn't account for."

[Assistant] "You mean, the length of a toilet break? That wouldn't even have been enough time."

[User] "No one takes a..." -- the lieutenant winces from the pain -- "fifteen-minute leak."

[Assistant] "Look, fuck you, man. I might have also stopped by the bar."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["gates.mhead_fight_success"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["gates.mhead_greeting_done"]) == false]

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["gates.mhead_introhub_reached"]) == false]

[Assistant] "YOUR BODY BETRAYS YOUR DEGENERACY."

[User] "Yeah, Measurehead, his body totally betrays his degeneracy," the young woman at the giant's side agrees.

[Assistant] Your body does *not* betray your degeneracy, that's a lie. You're in great shape.

[User] Don't say anything, size him up first.

[Assistant] "What do you mean, my body betrays my degeneracy?"

[User] "YOU HAVE SUCCUMBED TO *AL GUL*." His face contorts in disgust -- as if he were smelling a dead rat.

[Assistant] "YOU REEK OF IT. AN INVISIBLE SWORD OF *AL GUL* EMERGES FROM YOUR THROAT. YOU CANNOT SEE IT, BUT OTHERS CAN. IT IS MAKING THE WOMAN IN MY COMPANY SICK."

[User] "Wait, uhm... *Al Gul*?"

[Assistant] "YES -- *AL GUL*.


[User] Okay, the man with the sunglasses and his *hypothetical Station 41*. Weird, right?

[Assistant] I know! Super weird.

[User] There's something we're missing here... something you can't put our finger on. You know what -- just ask him. I know it sounds crazy (and you'll probably get laughed at). But still...

[Assistant] It's impossible. I don't want to waste my time.


[User] The remaining windows rattle from a strong gust of wind. They're covered in a thick layer of grime. They must have been like this for forty years.

[Assistant] Try to see inside.

[User] Dripping water falls from a high place. All you can see is the shadow of a collapsing staircase.

[Assistant] There's rust and corrosion on the bars, they're foaming with it. And a small layer of white salt from the sea.


[User] A moment passes. The lieutenant glances at the sports watch on his wrist.

[Assistant] "So..." (Point to your face.) "I shaved."

[User] "Yes, uhm..." The lieutenant stares at your shaven face, his eyes narrowed. "Uhhhh..." he mumbles. "I don't know what to say." He coughs. "Perhaps..."

[Assistant] "I knew I shouldn't shave! I knew it and still did it. What an idiot..."

[User] "No-no, it's... okay, I guess." He keeps staring at you, dumbfounded. "I may have preferred the mutton chops, they sort of seemed to... cover the..." He stops.

[Assistant] Damage.

[User] Yeah -- damage. He means damage.

[Assistant] "Either way, good on you." The lieutenant gathers himself. "You were saying...?"

[User] "I think you should know that I can't remember *anything*."

[Assistant] No response. He just arches his brow.

[User] He's having trouble processing it. *Believing* it even.

[Assistant] "I really don't remember anything. There was drinking involved."

[User] "Have you tried concentrating on something other than your personal affairs?"

[Assistant] There is a sudden, harsh edge to his voice. Like he's tired of hearing about your "personal affairs."


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["plaza.flaubert_greeting_done"]]

[Assistant] "That ride is fucking lightning!" the young man exclaims.

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["plaza.flaubert_total_cunt"]) == false]

[Assistant] "Hey, Pissf****t, look who it is! Shrunken cop head material!"

[User] "Do you know anything about the murder that took place here?" (Point to the yard.)

[Assistant] "Murder?"

[User] "A man was hanged in the backyard of the Whirling-in-Rags."

[Assistant] "Yeah, sure, we'll gladly tell you everything we know about it." He clears his throat. "It was a man."

[User] "Also, he was hanged."

[Assistant] "Anything else?"

[User] "He was hanged from a tree."

[Assistant] "Yeah, I mean... duh."

[User] "These punks don't know anything. Let's just move along."

[Assistant] "Hey! Stop right there! How does one know anything?"


[User] Dolores Dei -- the innocence of humanism, internationalism, and the welfare state -- turns around to face you. She has an airship bag in her hand. She seems to be in a hurry.

[Assistant] Okay, don't say you need to 'talk' right away. Melt the ice first -- this way you're *already* talking.

[User] But you don't even *want* to talk to her! She would only be cold and mean. Let her go.

[Assistant] Let her *go?* This is the holy queen of the territories of Mundi and Insulinde! Think of the historic knowledge we could glean! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity -- to win her back!

[User] "Go. Good bye." [Leave.]

[Assistant] ...is what you want to say. But you don't. Hammers clang in the distance. Children laugh...

[User] I want to go!

[Assistant] Where? There's water all around. She turns her face and it's illuminated by the sign of the video rental... Red and cyan...


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["TASK.report_to_the_tribunal_done"]  and  Variable["TASK.check_back_on_renovation_later"]) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["jam.horseback_monument_scaffolding"]]

[User] An old monument stands in the middle of the traffic island. It is surrounded by scaffolding that has been haphazardly erected around it.

[Assistant] What did this king do?

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["jam.monument_white_succeeded"]]

[Assistant] Even by the standards of the Filippian kings, Old Sumptuous Filippe was known for his profligacy.

[User] In what way?

[Assistant] Well, he blew through the whole national treasury, starting the decline of one of the penultimate century's greatest superpowers: the Suzerain of Revachol...

[User] His own maladministration foreshadowed the fall of the monarchy during the Antecentennial Revolution, an end to his family line and the monarchy on the Insulindian isola.

[Assistant] How did he manage to blow through *the entire national treasury*?

[User] Stories have it that he had his bedroom converted into a treasure chamber where he stored unfathomable wealth: *krugerrands*, bars of gold, ornate weaponry, armour, and various chalices.

[Assistant] He called it the *Sol Aurum*. It was obscene. There were whispers he slept on a huge pile of gold-dipped feathers like some obese dragon, instead of a bed like a normal person.


[User] "Of course, let us dispatch with the formalities, you call me Evrart, I call you Harry!"

[Assistant] "Fine by me."

[User] "So Harry, what can I help you with today?"

[Assistant] "I did it, Evrart. I turned it off."

[User] "What?" The big man looks at you, confused.

[Assistant] "The shady brew. You told me to make it even shadier. I didn't. It had alcohol in it. Now there's no alcohol."

[User] "Did I? Well done then, Harry. I like not knowing about it and I'm sure you made the right call. I spend the whole day delegating tasks, and it's a great relief to see people taking initiative."

[Assistant] "I don't even want to know what all of that means -- brew, shady, alcohol, turned off. I'm gonna let the world *surprise* me."

[User] "I met a girl named Acele who said she's working with you."

[Assistant] "Funny..." The big man lets out a lazy yawn. "That doesn't ring any bells, Harry."

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: IsKimHere()]

[Assistant] "Funny," the lieutenant says, looking up from his notebook. "She was trying to set up a narcotics operation in the old church on the coast."


[User] "Yes. Your lost gun." His face turns serious. "My best men are on it. They're turning every stone, searching every playground, asking kids, grandmas, everyone."

[Assistant] "Your gun *will* be found, Harry. Let me assure you of that." He winks at you. "It's just a matter of time and... *effort*."

[User] The only way to find it seems to be working with him. He might even be holding your gun hostage...

[Assistant] "Wait... the gun may have been bought from Roy's pawn shop. Have your men factored that in?"

[User] "Yes, thank you for the *hot tip* regarding your lost gun, Harry. My men have indeed" -- he makes air quotes -- "*factored in that you pawned it*."

[Assistant] "Now please... let the professionals do their job. Kick back, Harry, relax! I have *great guys* on this. You focus on what's important – building our relationship for the good of Martinaise."

[User] It did not come as a surprise to him. He might actually not be bullshitting.

[Assistant] It did not come as a surprise to him. He might actually not be bullshitting.

[User] "Does this mean if I do things for you I will get my gun back?"

[Assistant] "Damn it, Harry, that's exactly what it means!"


[User] You were right, bröther. (There's a sudden tightness in your lower intestine.)

[Assistant] What? What's going on?

[User] Back there, in your sleep. All the weak-willed delinquents, dilly-dalliers, foreign moneylenders, insane anarchists, and yes -- the wöömen -- they've run this place to ruin.

[Assistant] I didn't actually say that.

[User] But you did. Not with words, but you *did*, bröther. (The tightness spreads to your gut.)

[Assistant] I *do* feel like everything's gone to shit...

[User] It has, bröther, but we are going to turn back time! (A solemn gurgle emanates from your stomach.)

[Assistant] I will send you back to the time when the sun had not yet vanished, when it was still setting into the sea. The time of the Suzerain, the time when love was still possible.

[User] Even if it was possible, what would it accomplish?

[Assistant] To go back with the knowledge and the experience you have now and do it all over? Do it *richtig* this time?

[User] Protect the Suzerainty, clean up the city, revive disco music, and get her back? You could save Revachol. You could be the *man*, bröther.

[Assistant] Her?

[User] No one, don't ask about her.

[Assistant] Wait, get who back?


[User] Do you know what today is?

[Assistant] Huh?

[User] Of course. It's been too long since this has happened for you to recognize the feeling.

[Assistant] It's your first day sober.

[User] How did I let it come to this? I need to get my buzz on *immediately*.

[Assistant] No, you don't. You're well into detoxing now. *Reality* is beginning to come into focus -- just look around.

[User] Reality... (Study your surroundings with your newly sober eyes.)

[Assistant] Yes, you're beginning to see the world for what it is, even through the mental fog. And yourself, too -- what you've made yourself into.

[User] Oh, how I've missed this clarity!

[Assistant] Don't get too excited. Clarity is still many months away for you -- difficult, confusing, very emotional months. Shall we keep going?


[User] The title reads: "Codex Urik: the Industrious Dweorgr of Wirrâl". It's an introductory race creation and dweorg cultural backstory manual.

[Assistant] What does this mean?

[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["doomed.game_wc_wirral_boolean"]) == false]

[Assistant] You see an old, out-of-shape drunkard of a cop incapable of solving a simple case. Imaginary worlds can't save you.


[User] The library card is folded into two and still slightly wet to the touch. The front side reads: "Central Jamrock Public Library Card. Issued to Billie Méjean, expires July '53."

[Assistant] Billie is a unisex name. Could be the deceased *or* his family member?

[User] Look inside.

[Assistant] Whoever owns this card is an avid reader: you find a list of books written in blue pencil: 'Radiothriller', 'Stand a Little Less Between Me and the Sun'. The last one in the list is 'The Glinting Curve', by M. Thibault. A library stamp indicates that the book has been returned.

[User] Most of these titles seem to be in the sci-fi genre. Some thrillers too.

[Assistant] Look at the backside.

[User] "If lost, please return the card to the library. Dial 005-02-55-211 or visit us at Meroe Street 78, Jamrock. Business hours: 09.00 to 18.00."

[Assistant] You already decided to let the station handle the case, so there's no need to call the library.


[User] "Give me a moment." An elderly woman is leaning on her broom, her knuckles white as bone. She seems to be having difficulty breathing.

[Assistant] "The cold never does any good for my bronchitis..." She sneezes into a dirty handkerchief.

[User] This woman's health is failing her. There's not much to do, not in this damp.

[Assistant] "First, I'm the policeman that asked you to open the door. Are you sure you don't want to see my badge?"

[User] "I already told you I don't care about any badges."

[Assistant] "Are you alright? Should I call a doctor?"

[User] "I'm fine, fine, don't you worry about me!" She starts coughing, red spots appearing on her cheeks.

[Assistant] You're still worried. It's very worrying.

[User] "Now, what do you want from me, policeman?"

[Assistant] She's the cleaning lady. She knows the floor plan and the residents.

[User] "I am looking for the parents of a kid named Cuno."

[Assistant] "De Ruyters are at the end of this hallway, right next to the communal bathroom."


[User] "I'm more interested in *why* you're so fixated on this idea in the first place."

[Assistant] "We can't assign *la responsabilité* if we don't go through the proper channels."

[User] "But here's the thing, detective. *We're* the proper channels. Doing our work, right here on the ground, is how we'll solve this case. There's no need to bring the Coalition into this."

[Assistant] "How does this compare to your DynaWave, Kim?"

[User] "It doesn't, frankly. Don't get me wrong, this appears to be a *fine* transceiver for a general audience, but it's not something a serious radio-head would use." He shrugs.

[Assistant] "That's fine. I'm not interested in 'pissing competitions,' as you know."

[User] "Of course not, detective. This is *strictly* business." The lieutenant smiles to himself.

[Assistant] Examine the transceiver.

[User] There's nothing obviously remarkable about it. It's about the size of a common pasta box, with knobs of molded plastic. What else is there to say?

[Assistant] If this transceiver were a person, it would be an accountant at a large logistics firm. Perfectly competent, but unexceptional.

[User] Examine the transceiver.

[Assistant] There's nothing obviously remarkable about it. It's about the size of a common pasta box, with knobs of molded plastic. What else is there to say?


[User] Put 10 cents in and dial a random number: 005-51-17-912.

[Assistant] Calling...

[User] Still calling...

[Assistant] Again? Seriously?

[User] Someone with a masculine voice picks up:

[Assistant] "Hello, Girard speaking!"

[User] Hello, Girard. Technically speaking, you're electricity.

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: (Variable["coast.payphone_concept_electricity"]) == false]

[User] What *you* are is a *surprise*, get his wife on the phone...

[Assistant] "Hey, Girard, get your wife for me, will you?"

[User] "Wh-who is this?" The man does not understand.

[Assistant] "It's Pierre, now put her on. I don't like waiting."

[User] "Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?" The voice on the phone is suddenly very agitated.

[Assistant] Hang up. [Leave.]


[User] The book fits quite snugly into your palm. It would also fit comfortably into a jacket pocket.

[Assistant] Keep reading.

[User] You flip forward a few pages until you come upon a chapter titled 'Mental Projection and Transference'...

[Assistant] When a community has achieved a sufficiently high degree of revolutionary fervour, infra-materialists believe that second-level effects may be observed.

[User] At this second level, certain hyper-revolutionary individuals may even develop the ability to extend their thoughts into material space and vice versa.

[Assistant] "Hey, Kim. You'd say that we share a pretty special connection, right?"

[User] "I would say we share a perfectly average connection for two law officials working a case."

[Assistant] "It's way more than average. Haven't you noticed that we're always finishing each other's..."

[User] Your words hang in the air as the lieutenant scribbles something in his notebook. At some point he realizes you're waiting for him and looks up with a tightly knit brow.

[Assistant] "... sentences."

[User] The lieutenant looks at you evenly for a moment, then returns to his notebook without a word.

[Assistant] Forget it.


[User] [Action/Check: Condition: (IsHourBetween(21, 2)) == false]

[Assistant] [Action/Check: Condition: Variable["village.has_shack"]]

[User] "Our tenant, the policeman. I hope the waves don't keep you up at night. What can I help you with?"

[Assistant] "Have you heard a radio on the coast in the last week or so?"

[User] "A radio? Hah -- no, we play no radio here. There is one in the shack, but it's never used."

[Assistant] "Are you *sure* you didn't hear any radio playing?"

[User] "These ears know every sound that belongs to this coast. I would know if I heard anything different."

[Assistant] "We good, Kim?"

[User] "Let's just get it out of the way as fast as we can. Contact dispatch from my Kineema and ask them to connect you to the station. Maybe they can shed some light on this."

[Assistant] "Thank you, Kim."