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Logic: So this is where they brought faulty pinball machines to fix them up -- a long time ago. Everything is covered with dust now... You: "This used to be a... pinball workshop." Kim Kitsuragi: "Looks like it. I'm guessing Martinaise North 22 used to be a pinball arcade before it became a hostel. There are machines left over..." He taps his foot. Perception (Hearing): A creak, some dust falls off a shelf. Logic: And it has been forgotten. Now, there is only one working machine in the main hall -- the rest is lost to dust. Reaction Speed: Remember the *Dicemaker*?! Then that means... You: "Whirling-in-Rags was once the East Delta Pinball arcade. This is all left over from that."

Andre: "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." Savoir Faire: Glimpses? Who are these people, secret agents? Stealth operatives? You: "Better safe than sorry. Anything more you can tell me?" Andre: "Yes," he leans in for emphasis, "there's also *the machinery*..." Inland Empire: This machinery is of the deeply mystical variety. Andre: "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." Noid: "One of them has wires running into bowls of water. Wires. Into *water*. Never seen anything like it." Egg Head: "Andre, tell him about the feeling!" Andre: "Oh, and it felt like there was some *thing* in there with us, watching us from the dark..." Egg Head: "No! The other one." Andre: "Uhm, which other one? I'm not as in tune with my emotions as you are, Egg." Egg Head: "Felt like silence! Awful silence..." Empathy: For this man even regular silence is awful enough. But that was... something greater. You: "But you haven't physically *seen* anyone?" Andre: "Not exactly. We've just seen someone who we think is a woman go in and out of the church. A couple of times. And we felt someone... or some *thing*... eyeing us inside. But... that's kinda it." You: "Can you tell me more about this machinery?" Andre: "You should talk to Noid about that. I just got a distinct *burnout* and *dopehead* sine from them. Probably jacked up to some snuff station too. Probably, very likely."

Evrart Claire: "What?" The big man looks at you surprised. You: "The brew! The shady, shady brew." Evrart Claire: "Oh, how could I forget your little side-project! Well done, Harry. Well done! Don't even tell me what it was. But good job! I love it when workers take the initiative like this." Electrochemistry: So do I. That's one tasty brew, you should drink some right now if you can! You: "It turns out the strikers are being served an alcoholic brew. I made it even stronger." Evrart Claire: "I don't know what that means, Harry. But I love it!" He chuckles. "I love your initiative! Knowing you're out there keeping things running lets me focus on the big picture stuff." Evrart Claire: "Don't even tell me what was going on. Alcoholic brew, stronger, stopped it, strike. I'm just gonna let you surprise me, Harry." You: "I opened the door you asked me. Can we discuss the murder now?" Evrart Claire: "I'm very glad to hear that, Harry," he says with a smile. "One question: you didn't actually happen to stumble in and see what's inside the apartment, did you?" Drama: He's trying to figure out if you're lying. Suggestion: There is no way to sway this man in any direction. He is un-suggestable and un-swayable. Just tell the truth.

Church Doors: Heavy wooden doors more than twice your height stand shut in front of you. The rectangular, sea-worn ornamentation appears in stark contrast to the padlock carelessly drilled into the wood. You: Inspect the staple. Church Doors: The padlock passes through a staple that's been hastily attached to the wood. Closer inspection reveals that one of the screws is not a screw at all, but a nail. The work has been done recently and is unprofessional, to say the least. System: (CheckItem("key_church_door")) == false Logic: Should you want to get through, it might be easier to just pry the whole thing off. System: (Variable["church.churchdoor_have_crowbar_idea"]) == false You: Look at the sticker. Church Doors: You see a yellow circle with two X's and a big curve below them that looks like a mouth. You're pretty sure you haven't seen it before, but what the symbol depicts is clear enough: a smiling dead guy. The curve makes it smile and the X's make it dead. Conceptualization: There is something blindingly *modern* about this symbol. Its modernness puts to shame everything you've seen before. You: "Have you seen this symbol before?" (Point to it.) Kim Kitsuragi: He takes off his glasses and uses a blue handkerchief to thoroughly wipe them clean before inspecting the sticker. Then he looks up, pauses, and replies... Kim Kitsuragi: "No." You: "What does it look like to you?"

You: "Something with the Union boss..." (Punch yourself in the head.) Kim Kitsuragi: "Officer!" The lieutenant watches you beat yourself in the head -- to make a connection in the murder case. Reaction Speed: He quickly realises what is happening. Kim Kitsuragi: "Mr. Dros, about this deal you made." He turns to him. "With Edgar. The death of the Krenel mercenary was only *coincidentally* beneficial to the Claires. But..." He leans closer. Kim Kitsuragi: "What about the *other* people you've killed for them?" The Deserter: "Other people?" Kim Kitsuragi: "Like -- the previous forewoman of the Union." Logic: That's it! That's what you weren't connecting yourself... The Deserter: "I didn't fight forty years to end up an informant for the international regime." He wags a finger at the lieutenant. "What happened happened." Perception (Sight): Still dumb, your eyes are transfixed on his digit. It's yellow with nicotine... Logic: Before, when you asked him about the Union he said it was a *disappointment*. They promised him something. Political. Authority: You are *THE LAW*. He must divulge the information! You: That's it? I've gotta say that? There are no other thoughts in my head?

Trash Can: There's some tare, an empty cigarette package, and a crumpled kebab wrapper in the trash bin. You: Examine the tare. Trash Can: Two empty bottles of 'Touloula' vodka and a can of black 'Potent Porter' is all you find. Perception (Sight): No. There's more in there. 'Livis' strawberry liquor, plus some pilsner bottles too. Better not pick them up, they seem unhygienic. Kim Kitsuragi: "A tragedy..." The lieutenant looks in the can, eyes watering from the smell. Empathy: He shakes his head with genuine sadness. You: Examine the tare. Trash Can: Two empty bottles of 'Touloula' vodka and a can of black 'Potent Porter' is all you find. Perception (Sight): No. There's more in there. 'Livis' strawberry liquor, plus some pilsner bottles too. Better not pick them up, they seem unhygienic. Kim Kitsuragi: "A tragedy..." The lieutenant looks in the can, eyes watering from the smell. Empathy: He shakes his head with genuine sadness.

System: Variable["canal.hjelmdall_mainhub_reached"] Rack of Second-Hand Uniforms: What a shirt. All other shirts pale in comparison to the muscular man with antlers and immense zweihänders. System: (Variable["tc.hjelmdall"]) == false Encyclopedia: The antlers on the hood of the man's cloak and his piercing blue eyes are familiar.... You: "What's the deal with the man on this t-shirt?" System: IsKimHere() Kim Kitsuragi: "It's the Man from Hjelmdall." Bird's Nest Roy: "Walking away from his burning village, yes." Empathy: Their matter-of-fact tone belies their surprise at the fact that you didn't recognize the figure in the print. System: (Variable["canal.hjelmdall_empathy_surprise"]) == false You: "Remind me, who's the Man from Hjelmdall again?" Bird's Nest Roy: "The Man from Hjelmdall is the hero of a series of popular books based on a fictional version of Katla, mostly what is nowadays Arda NFD."

Evrart Claire: "I'm very glad to hear that, Harry," he says with a smile. "One question: you didn't actually happen to stumble in and see what's inside the apartment, did you?" Drama: He's trying to figure out if you're lying. Suggestion: There is no way to sway this man in any direction. He is un-suggestable and un-swayable. Just tell the truth. You: "I *may have* gone inside and seen a collection of racist mugs." Evrart Claire: "Just as I thought. Culturally antiquated mug collection. What a weasel..." He shakes his head. "*Pissing* on Evrart's Rainbow Coalition." Drama: He *was* testing you. And you succeeded. Evrart Claire: "Now let's get down to brass tacks. It's time for men like me and you to figure out who's killed who and why." He pretends to roll up his sleeves. "Real police work is gonna start happening now. I promise you, Harry, this is gonna be good." You: "How do you know the mercenaries were hired by the shipping company?" Evrart Claire: "How do I know? Let me tell you about these people." He slams his fist on the desk. "That's their MO. It's what they do." Evrart Claire: "Last winter some poor workers in Terminal E went on a little strike. The company sent in *Sediment* -- a security contractor. The strike was over the workers' right to wear protective footwear, Harry." Evrart Claire: "These guys turn up and start beating people. Tell you what, Harry, I wouldn't be surprised if we got the same mercenary company -- after a little *rebranding*. And I'm sure as hell not surprised to see an army of scabs under my gates." Kim Kitsuragi: "So you believe the scabs were organized by the security contractor?"

Kim Kitsuragi: "I'm not even sure the *one bullet* my chamber holds would even prick that hulk." You: "But... I was fighting *bad*, unsavoury ideologies. I'm a hero." Kim Kitsuragi: "We're not here on some political quest, we're here to solve a crime. Don't make this situation any more volatile than it already is." You: "But *he's* the one trying to provoke *me*!" Kim Kitsuragi: "And you're just going to *let* him manipulate you like that?" He raises an eyebrow. You: "But... I was fighting *bad*, unsavoury ideologies. I'm a hero." Kim Kitsuragi: "We're not here on some political quest, we're here to solve a crime. Don't make this situation any more volatile than it already is." You: "Okay, I was trying to assert my dominance over him." Kim Kitsuragi: "We're not here on some political quest, we're here to solve a crime. Don't make this situation any more volatile than it already is."

Inland Empire: You should totally sing karaoke here, the first chance you get. Your emotions need to be expressed. People need to know of your vast, oceanic soul. You: My soul's cubic content is obscured by the hangover. Inland Empire: Of course. At this point, precise measurements of your soul can only be performed from the outside. It needs to be heard. Inland Empire: Through a PA system. Inland Empire: By other people. Half Light: Whether they like it or not. Ram it up their ears, says your adrenaline gland. Violently express yourself. You: What should I sing, when it comes to it? Inland Empire: You should sing the sad small church song from that tape you found. Thought it was obvious... You: I was thinking maybe I could sing something happy. Get the crowd going. Inland Empire: No-no, don't sing the happy song, it's stupid. Sing the sad song, it's profound.

You: Dig deep into your mind to locate the source of *The Expression*. System: Variable["whirling.mirror_expression_source_located"] Encyclopedia: It belongs in The New -- the third decade of the current century. Enough time had passed from the failure of Revolution that, for a fleeting moment, free market economy seemed like the ultimate, uncontested way of life for our species. You: Okay... Encyclopedia: Things were good. It was *smooth sailing*. People made gold-and-champagne-tinted interiors and façades to suit the times, calling this *The New Style*. But, more importantly -- disco happened. Encyclopedia: For Revachol -- your city -- that meant only one thing: Guillaume Le Million! Drama: If it doesn't rhyme, you're not pronouncing it right. Encyclopedia: Out of the dazzling swirl of disco music, in an open air *boîte de nuit* somewhere in Revachol West, Guillaume's blond mane appeared on the screen. He sang some bullshit. Then he made *The Expression*. You: I guess that's it then. (Conclude.) Mirror: It doesn't have to be. You can swoon over Guillaume and his champagne-cork smile whenever you want to... Maybe some of the stardust will return? You: [Let the mirror be for now.]

You: "Okay, let's do this." (Climb the monument.) System: (Variable["jam.warship_phys_inst_bar"]) == false System: (CheckEquippedGroup("gloves")) == false Horseback Antenna: The cold metal chills your bare hands. Some part of your brain tells you something is missing... Hand/Eye Coordination: Chalk powder. Absorbs moisture and keeps your grip firm. Horseback Antenna: You don't exactly cut a lithesome figure, but after several moments of scrambling you manage to hoist yourself atop the monument. Physical Instrument: That performance was, frankly, an embarrassment. You: Examine the connections. Horseback Antenna: The connection itself is nothing more than a little braid of exposed wire wrapped about the hoof of the horse, a copper fetter it cannot slip. Perception (Sight): The whole monument is covered in a thin but durable layer of oil and grime. It's obvious no one has cleaned it in years. System: Variable["jam.monument_perc_oils"] System: (Variable["church.soona_mentioned_ammonia"]) == false Logic: If you had something *alcoholic*, you could dissolve the oils, creating a cleaner (and clearer) connection.

System: IsHourBetween(21, 2) System: Variable["village.ww_greeting_done"] System: Variable["village.ww_altgreet_nighttime"] System: (Variable["village.has_shack"]) == false System: (Variable["village.ww_altgreet_singing_reaction"]) == false System: (Variable["village.ww_greeting_done"]) == false Washerwoman: The woman next to a bucket of clothes hums an odd melody. Her eyes are closed. System: Variable["village.ww_ency_southsamaran"] Washerwoman: "Welcome to the fishing village." She opens her eyes. "Please lean in closer. I have cataracts." Reaction Speed: Then how does she know you're here? You: "Later." [Leave.]

You: "Titus sent Elizabeth away and said her services were no longer needed." Evrart Claire: "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*." Evrart Claire: "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." You: "I needed to talk to Titus man to man and she was getting in the way." Evrart Claire: "Oh, I can imagine that. Lizzie is tenacious like a little pitbull. Underneath the law degree and sophistication, she's still a Martinaisian through and through." Evrart Claire: "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." You: "Aren't you going to ask me how I got in?" Evrart Claire: "Honestly, I didn't want to bring it up, Harry -- I heard you have become Measurehead's race pupil...?" You: "I'm not a *race pupil*, I just listened to some of the things he had to say." Evrart Claire: "Of course, Harry, of course! You're not some kind of a fantastic racist now. And rest assured, no one's gonna hear about it." He winks at you.

System: Variable["doomed.doomed_radiocomputer_turned_on"] System: IsKimHere() System: SetVariableValue("doomed.radiocomputer_kim_has_seen_it", true) --[[ Variable[ ]] Mainframe: Tiles on the cube are still smouldering, casting the framework in a soft glow. Virescent PLAY and PRINT keys shine on the keyboard. You: Look inside the compartment. System: Variable["doomed.radiocomputer_inserted_dev_schedule"] Mainframe: Behind the hatch sits a cube-like crisscross of filaments, smouldering in the dark like fireflies. Silver tape on the side says in a black marker: "THE PRODUCTION SCHEDULE". You: Remove THE OFF-SITE COPY. Mainframe: The filament slides out of its glowing nest. You: Insert THE OFF-SITE COPY.

Photo of Tattoos: 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. Photo of Tattoos: It still kind of looks like a map of the stars in the night sky, but... something's not right. You: Who are you? Photo of Tattoos: Gone. You: [Put the photo away.]

Kim Kitsuragi: "Whether you're a family man or not is unimportant right now, officer. We are here for a different reason. In fact, we should probably move on to the murder." Evrart Claire: "No, no. Don't interrupt him." He looks the lieutenant with reproach. "Me and Harry are having a moment here. Go on, Harry." You: "Do you know where I live?" Evrart Claire: "But of course, Harry." He nods. "Your precinct is the 41st and you live in Jamrock. You're a Jamrock boy. A long way from home, but that's okay." Rhetoric: He doesn't really seem to know any more about it. You: "Let's talk of other matters for a moment." Evrart Claire: "Of course, Harry, of course! Let's not linger on personal details and amnesia. You wanted something from me?" You: "Evrart, about the weasel..." Evrart Claire: "You fucked up. You waited too long, the weasel came back, and now you can't open the door I asked you to open..." The big man looks you straight in the eye. Evrart Claire: "Evrart forgives, Harry." A wide smile crosses his face. "Don't cry, my boy. It's gonna be alright. I'm *still* gonna tell you about the murder. That's just the way I am. Benevolent." You: "I thought I had more time..."

Pain Threshold: The spread pattern of these bullet holes makes your chest ache. Your breath grows heavier. Visual Calculus: Another set of awfully old bullet holes. You: "Kim, look... more bullet holes. Someone has been shot here." Kim Kitsuragi: The lieutenant inspects the wall, then nods. "Another set of old bullet holes from the Revolution." You: "Figured as much." [Discard thought.] Kim Kitsuragi: "A history of violence streaking all across Revachol." Shivers: The streets ran red with blood. Dust swirled above the ruins. The pressure change from artillery fire ripped people apart in the top floors of the building above you...

Logic: What happened here? You: This looks so sad... Logic: Put your emotions aside. Try to focus on abstract, impersonal things. Inland Empire: But this reeks of sadness! You: [Discard thought.]

You: "Guess what -- I've come upon something incriminating." Titus Hardie: "Incriminating... now that's a big boy word." He puts his beer can down. You: "You're involved. Somehow. I just don't have proof -- yet." Titus Hardie: "Well..." He picks up his beer can. "Maybe you should just fuck off then?" System: Variable["yard.hanged_spoke_to_the_corpse"] or (Variable["whirling.hardie_postviscal_scan"] and Variable["yard.sense_viscal_greeting_done"]) or Variable["cargo.containeryard_finish_the_pile_of_belts_thought"] or Variable["yard.hanged_rope_airlifting_carfo"] or Variable["yard.hanged_rope_industrial_strength"] or Variable["cargo.evrart_hardieboys_did_the_merco_in"] System: IsKimHere() Kim Kitsuragi: "What are you doing, officer?" He lowers his voice. "We had enough questions to keep this going." Rhetoric: You should have kept pushing if you had something. You: "There's an old catatonic lady in the old fish market, on the other side of the bay. She needs help." Titus Hardie: The big man laughs, nearly spitting out his beer. "What's that, copper? You want us to help little old ladies now?" System: (IsKimHere()) == false

Loose Floorboard: As you look at the floorboards in this corner of the shack, it's clear one of them isn't quite level with the others. Visual Calculus: The edge of a floorboard next to it looks scratched. Kim Kitsuragi: "See anything interesting?" You: "Possibly." Kim Kitsuragi: The lieutenant nods. You: Move the board aside. Loose Floorboard: The hollow space underneath the floorboards is dark and damp. You can barely make out the mixture of sand and sawdust below. You: What's in here? Loose Floorboard: Nothing particular catches your eye. Looks like more reeds. There might be something hidden inside the sand, though. Inland Empire: Something bad. Someone's night thoughts. A last resort. A bad idea. You: Oh, I don't want to stick my hand in there. [Leave.] Loose Floorboard: You return the board to its original position.

You: What's in the north? Shivers: An abandoned church that's being turned into a dance club. Four youths are hard at work there, making it ever harder core. You: And further north? Shivers: A serpentine strip of land weaving its way into the Martinaise inlet. Unfortunates on the run -- from the law, from themselves -- sometimes hide out on nearby islets. Little dots in the ocean that are occasionally submerged when the tide is high and the weather foul. You: And on the islets? Shivers: The remains of a camp on a jagged piece of rock -- a tent, old dishes and cutlery. Long since abandoned. A hermit crab scuttles among the debris, looking for a new shell. Shivers: Further out, the lights burn bright on Résurrection; way beyond Martinaise -- a popular spa destination for ample-bodied Ozonne kids with equally ample pockets. You: And on the islets? Shivers: The remains of a camp on a jagged piece of rock -- a tent, old dishes and cutlery. Long since abandoned. A hermit crab scuttles among the debris, looking for a new shell. Shivers: Further out, the lights burn bright on Résurrection; way beyond Martinaise -- a popular spa destination for ample-bodied Ozonne kids with equally ample pockets. You: And on the islets? Shivers: The remains of a camp on a jagged piece of rock -- a tent, old dishes and cutlery. Long since abandoned. A hermit crab scuttles among the debris, looking for a new shell. Shivers: Further out, the lights burn bright on Résurrection; way beyond Martinaise -- a popular spa destination for ample-bodied Ozonne kids with equally ample pockets.

Half Light: A threat? Retaliate immediately. You'll see -- they'll fall over like bitch-leaves. These boys ain't got the *cojones*. You: "I just wanted to talk about music and now there's a conflict all of the sudden... it's too much." (Nervously shake your head.) Pissf****t: "Uh... that's right," the young man says, looking unsure of himself. "You... you should back off and let silence rule supreme." Authority: What is wrong with you? Now you're just empowering these punks. Kim Kitsuragi: "This is ridiculous." The lieutenant gives you an irritated glance. "Boys, do you know why the gang is called SKULLS?" Pissf****t: "Yeah -- the skull symbolizes the embrace of death and nothingness, present in all of us, the vehicle of our future operations. Death and nothingness." Kim Kitsuragi: "They're called SKULLS because when you're shot dead in the middle of the street, the skull is the only part the stray dogs won't eat." Esprit de Corps: Just trust me and follow my lead. You: "So, boys, wanna feed the dogs?" Pissf****t: No reply. The blond rebel scratches his chin, deliberately not focusing his gaze on anything. He looks very uncomfortable. Fuck the World: The other one shuffles uncomfortably, nevertheless continuing to steal glances at the lieutenant's motor carriage. Half Light: Scared little bitches... You: "Why aren't there more SKULLS in Martinaise?" Kim Kitsuragi: "The Union does their share of policing in Martinaise, at least where gangs are concerned," the lieutenant replies instead. "That's why there isn't much organized crime around here." Esprit de Corps: Apart from the Union themselves of course. Fuck the World: "Don't you worry about that. We're gonna make up for the deficit."

Visual Calculus: 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. Endurance: The wind picks up. Fine sea foam lashes your face. It feels like needles. You can take it -- just raise your collar, detective. Perception: In the distance you can hear the breakers roar. You: Maybe the assailant climbed the comms tower, took the shot there? Visual Calculus: The salty water has corroded the ladder to nothing but two thin orange rails. In addition, there is no stable nest up there. It would have been useless. Savoir Faire: It does look *extremely* rickety. And wouldn't help much either. You: Maybe the assailant climbed the comms tower, took the shot there? Visual Calculus: The salty water has corroded the ladder to nothing but two thin orange rails. In addition, there is no stable nest up there. It would have been useless. Savoir Faire: It does look *extremely* rickety. And wouldn't help much either.

You: "Gary, do you know how to turn back time?" Gary, the Cryptofascist: "Do I know how to turn back time...?" He gives you a sideways glance. "Is that a trick question?" System: Variable["plaza.fascha_dq_asked_someone_the_q"] System: IsKimHere() Kim Kitsuragi: "Are you *still* pursuing this?" The lieutenant gives you a tired look. You: "No...?" Kim Kitsuragi: "No?" he asks, surprised. "Because I could've sworn that's what you're doing right now." You: "It *will* make sense, I promise." Kim Kitsuragi: "Fine." He opens his notebook and starts leafing through the pages. "Just make it quick. We need to get back to our case." Gary, the Cryptofascist: "Make what quick?" He shrugs. "You're asking me about time travel. Is this some kind of a trick?" You: "I'm all out of tricks, Gary. Tell me what you know." Gary, the Cryptofascist: "Phew..." He scratches his head. "I don't know what to tell you. I mean of course there are *theories* out there..."

System: (Variable["doomed.dicemaker_main_hub_reached"]) == false System: (Variable["doomed.dicemaker_greeting_done"]) == false Novelty Dicemaker: "Hello, I'm Neha." A bird-like woman sits on a throne of tools, with emerald light shining through her hair. Novelty Dicemaker: "Did you try knocking on my window? I must have missed you, I've been listening to my *milieus*." She taps on her headphones. Novelty Dicemaker: "So, what kind of die are you looking for?" System: (Variable["TASK.find_the_witch"]) == false Visual Calculus: She's got a direct view to the backyard. You should interrogate her about the lynching. You: "Never mind, I'll be back later." [Leave.] Novelty Dicemaker: "As you wish. Till next time," she nods, turning back to her table.

You: "How did you know we were coming?" Ruby, the Instigator: "I heard you in the passages. And I've been preparing for quite a while." You: "Okay... then I have other questions..." Ruby, the Instigator: "Yeah? What?" You: "If you didn't kill him... why hide?" Ruby, the Instigator: "I saw *you* roll into town. I wasn't about to stick around for questioning by a goddamn La Puta Madre agent." System: Variable["whirling.titus_ruby_scared_thiscopthiscop"] Reaction Speed: So this is what she was scared to tell Titus. *This cop, this cop...* System: (Variable["whirling.titus_half_light_thiscopthiscop"]) == false Half Light: A fear fills you. A bad kind of fear. Of *yourself*. You: "What do you mean... La Puta Madre agent?" Ruby, the Instigator: "Yes -- you." She looks at you quizzically. "Everyone says you're his peone. His 'Human Can Opener.'" Kim Kitsuragi: Through the sudden sharp pain in your head, you hear the lieutenant mumble something to himself. Perception (Hearing): "Fucking hell" and "Why me?" you hear through the white noise.

Conceptualization: They really have an interesting set up here. Like kids preparing for a school science fair. It's pretty neat. You: I hope I did stuff like this when I was a kid. Conceptualization: I'm sure you did. You have an exploratory, creative streak -- just like them. You: "Hey Andre, what's all this?" (Continue.) Andre: "This? Oh, we're trying to see if we can come up with some cool new special effects to add to the visual aspect of our club experience..." He gestures toward the set-up proudly. Noid: "We tinker with things. Art, music... chemistry." You: "I'm not sure I'm buying what you're selling. What kind of effects?" Andre: "Some chemicals when mixed can, you know, change colour, or sort of -- blow up..." Egg Head: "BLOW UP! BLOW UP!" The young man with the large head pumps his fist in the air. Andre: "Not, like, you know, in a dangerous way," he throws Egg Head an uneasy glance, "or, well, we're not going to do it in a dangerous way." Andre: "Besides, did you know that *smell experiences* are all the rage now at the most forward-thinking venues?" Acele: "Very big in *art circles*." She looks up for a moment. Soona, the Programmer: The lead programmer turns to look at you for a moment, her gaze impassive, then returns to her work.

System: Variable["canal.light_paid_shares"] Sawed-off Street Light: It's the 700 reál modified street light you traded for shares. You: Read the sign. Sawed-off Street Light: It reads: 'SOLD TO THE DISCO COP FOR SHARES IN M-K MERCURY GROUP.' The words are written with an even kerning in bold, precise letters. Savoir Faire: Looks surprisingly official for a small-time trader. Some of your big-biz flair must be rubbing off on him. You: Look at the light in your life. Sawed-off Street Light: The pole has been carefully cut, the wiring redone and attached to a standard indoor plug. The light buzzes faintly but persistently. Inland Empire: She's going to *love* it. System: (Variable["canal.light_inland_she"]) == false You: See you later, sunshine. [Leave.]

System: (Variable["ice.tentflap_greeting_done"]) == false Tent Flap: The tent is just tarpaulin fabric covering a pile of stuff. The flap is open. Inside, three young men are listening to some new form of music. It's like nothing you've ever heard. One of them looks at you. Andre: "C'mon! Get in and close the flap behind you! The warm stuff is getting out!" Authority: It's safe to assume this is their leader. Or at least he thinks he is. You: Squeeze in. System: IsKimHere() Andre: "Sorry." He points his thumb at the lieutenant. "We barely have room for one." Kim Kitsuragi: "You go ahead, I'm too old for this..." Esprit de Corps: I'm actually not, he thinks. I just dislike delinquents. Kim Kitsuragi: "I'm sure you will feel right at home. I'll keep watch." He gestures for you to squeeze in. Tent Flap: You leave the lieutenant outside and squeeze in.

System: DayCount() == 1 System: (Variable["whirling.lena_intro_done"]) == false System: Variable["whirling.kimintro_hub_reached"] System: IsKimHere() and Variable["whirling.lena_intro_greeting_kim_first"] Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Hello again, sweetie. I see you've met up with your colleague." She looks at the lieutenant. Kim Kitsuragi: The lieutenant nods politely. System: (Variable["whirling.lena_intro_midgreet"]) == false Reaction Speed: Wait, who's *sweetie*? Suggestion: She is appraising you scientifically, the way she would an exceptional zoological specimen. It's not *like that*. System: (Variable["whirling.lena_suggest_sweetie"]) == false Visual Calculus: Her eyes move up and down your person as though taking your measurements. Her attention is *scientific*.

ONE DAY I WILL RETURN TO YOUR SIDE: The graffito has been painted over the traces of the fight that took place here. It smells of blood and heavy fuel oil. Reaction Speed: This was Cindy the SKULL. You: Looks like Cindy the SKULL has been here. ONE DAY I WILL RETURN TO YOUR SIDE: The red-dyed fuel oil glistens. This was painted very recently. Conceptualization: The Return... Inland Empire: Fresh blood. The return to her side. Rhetoric: The return of light.

You: "Quite the business venture you've set up here." Rosemary: "Oh..." He gets a proud gleam in his eyes. "The system's been good to old Rosemary here and I'm milkin' 'er like a bitch goat in the backyard." You: "What do you mean?" Rosemary: "You see, friend," he raises his index finger, "man makes his own luck -- and I made mine real good. Got my hands on three bottles of *liqueur exquise*, sold two to the fellows around here and *immediately* invested the profit." Rosemary: "Bought cigarettes, bought beer, even bought a bit of speed. And look at me now... I got everyone on my hook." He spreads his arms and smiles a crooked toothless smile. Visual Calculus: The hook -- where is it? I can't see it. You: "I'm already hooking for Cuno... I think." System: (IsKimHere()) == false Rosemary: "Good, good, good," he repeats, nodding enthusiastically. "So you want this shit or not?" You: "Why does the bottle of spirits cost 300 reál?" Rosemary: "See, friend..." He brings out a one-litre bottle with blue-ish liquid. The mouth is corked shut. "It's *real* valuable. Worth every reál, if you catch my drift. Got it from a bit of a business venture..." You: "I'll just have the spirits and not the story today, thank you." Rosemary: "Right... right..." His tone cools considerably. "As I said, that'll be 300 reál."

Door, Apartment #12: A shabby door hangs oddly on its hinges, secured to the doorframe with a safety chain. An unpaid energy bill is attached, threatening to cut off the electricity. It's addressed to Mr. Uuno de Ruyter. System: (Variable["TASK.get_drugs_from_cunos_apartment"] == true and Variable["TASK.get_drugs_from_cunos_apartment_done"] == false) == false Door, Apartment #12: The handle is loose from violent, fruitless yanking. Paint at the door's bottom is chipped from kicking. People have tried often, and apparently without success, to enter. System: IsKimHere() Kim Kitsuragi: The lieutenant shakes his head. "We've no business here. Let's get back to the investigation."

Inland Empire: Now! Now you will *finally* get to know who you are! You: "Wait. I have a *few* questions before we go. About who I am." Jean Vicquemare: The man looks westward, impatiently. Perception (Hearing): Jingling his car keys in his pocket. You: "Lieutenant Kitsuragi -- what will you do now?" Kim Kitsuragi: "Well -- first I will go back to my station and write the most detailed report anyone has ever seen. It will have to be good to cover all this. Then I will have a serious talk with my captain." You: "About what?" System: IsNight() Kim Kitsuragi: "Detective, we just stopped a small-scale war. Something is happening to Revachol." He takes a look around -- into the deepening shadows of the streets -- then pulls up his collar. Kim Kitsuragi: "I don't know what, yet -- but it's going to be a hard spring for the RCM. We need to get ready. Infiltrate. Investigate." Shivers: Distant traffic. A scrap of newspaper drifts by, carried by the wind. System: (Variable["village.posse_kim_shivers"]) == false System: Variable["tc.the_return"] Inland Empire: Le Retour...

Interfacing: This isn't just glass -- these are old computation components. You: These are computer components? Interfacing: Yes. Filament memories. From the time when wires were cast in glass; slides with an inlaid nervous system. You: "So this is all that remains of Feld R&D?" Kim Kitsuragi: He nods. "The rest of the building seems to have been picked clean." You: "Could this be part of the Feld Playback Experiment?" Kim Kitsuragi: "These? No. These are old filament memories. I hope you're not expecting to find that device here -- you will be disappointed." Inland Empire: All you will find here is pain. You: "So this is all that remains of Feld R&D?" Kim Kitsuragi: He nods. "The rest of the building seems to have been picked clean." You: "So this is all that remains of Feld R&D?"

Primer Book: You see a colourful primer. The title reads: "A Primer for Small Kids." You: Flip through the pages. Primer Book: It's exactly like a primer -- a word on every page relating to a letter of the alphabet. Primer Book: I'm not sure what you're planning to get from this. It's meant for babies. Literal babies. You: [Leave.]

You: "So I talked to Klaasje about the tape." Titus Hardie: "And?" Composure: He tenses immediately. Chest tightens. Jaw sets. Ready for another blow. You: "And nothing. She stands by what she said." Titus Hardie: "That fucking fucker..." He stares at his beer for two seconds -- intently -- then turns to you. "You're the worst cop in Revachol! I gave you *gold* on that tape." Rhetoric: That 'fucker' wasn't aimed at you. It was at *her*. Endurance: You smell weakness. He's getting tired of the game he's been playing. Savoir Faire: You caught him off balance. Push and he will give way. You: "It was dark stuff, but it didn't prove anything. And it didn't change her mind." Titus Hardie: "Dark?! Dark is when you start a goddamn death-rock band! He said he'd rape her!" He shakes his head in disbelief. Suggestion: Sounds like he wanted it to change her mind about the hanged man. This is definitely personal. Titus Hardie: "What did she have to say then? Fine by her?! This is what people are *supposed* to be like? Fucking whoopty doo!" You: "If anything, she seemed turned on by the whole doorgunning thing." System: (IsKimHere()) == false Titus Hardie: "Right... right..." Titus mumbles, his lips barely moving: "No good goddamn psycho whore..."

You: "What else did Ruby tell you -- about me?" Titus Hardie: "She said you have a funny taste in clothes." He scoffs. "And that you won't *stop*." Endurance: Never -- not until the case is solved. And then the next case. And the next... You: "She's right. I won't." Titus Hardie: "Not until you *have* something on her. She said she's heard of you from Jamrock. That you're a human can-opener. That you play suspects against each other. Open them up, like cans." Interfacing: And then when they're all empty, just move on. Unto the next can. Don't look back -- unless there was something you *missed*. Alain: "Fucking hell..." The tattooed man shakes his head. "Titus, did he just..." Titus Hardie: "...open Angus up like a can? Yes, he did." He nods. "Now, we can whine about it, whack him, or we can go on with our lives. I'm having a 'go on with our lives' kind of day, Al. How about you?" Authority: It's not an actual question. Alain: Silence. He nods. You: "Anything else? *Anything*?" Titus Hardie: "Yeah, there was something else. She wouldn't tell me though. I could see she wanted to. It was *burning* on her lips: 'This cop, Titus, this cop, he...' But she was too scared." Half Light: Scared? You should be too. A strange fear creeps over you, a metallic taste in your mouth. Change the subject. System: (Variable["cargo.evrart_anything_I_can_do_to_help"]) == false You: "It's not much, but it'll do." (Go!)

Un Pays Infernal: This book is written by an angry humanitarian sciences doctor from the La Cherte University in Sur-La-Clef, a Dr. Benoit Mejean. He does not like Sur-La-Clef, La Cherte -- or in fact even the University he teaches in -- but what he likes even less is... Rhetoric: It's capitalism, isn't it? Un Pays Infernal: Capitalism. Un Pays Infernal: Can't stand the shadow of it. This book promises to *really* get into everything that's wrong with capitalism -- to do so once and for all in an *exhaustive* and *final* manner. You: Nope. [Put the book away.]

Coalition Warship Archer: "We ask you one more time. Are you prepared to accept your responsibility?" Volition: This is it, there's no turning back, no more pussyfooting about. You have to choose, once and for all. You: "Yes, I accept. Now, let's get me out of here." Coalition Warship Archer: "Acknowledged. Laurel has initiated the extraction procedure. Stand by..." Horseback Antenna: "Marianne hat mir erzählt, dass Oskar nicht mehr derselbe ist, seit er auf einem Luftschiff... zurückgekommen ist..."

Sixteen Days of Coldest April: In your hands you hold 'Sixteen Days of Coldest April', by Yekartina Dahl. The cover image shows a row of concrete apartments, above which span a black-and-white rainbow. You: Feels heavy. Sixteen Days of Coldest April: Indeed. The book is *unusually* heavy in your hands, as though the cover were lined with lead... Inland Empire: They *would* do that in Graad. You: How long is this book, anyway? Sixteen Days of Coldest April: You flip through the book. The pages are thinner than you realized, and the type quite small and tightly set. It's nearly 600 pages long. Conceptualization: Real art is dense and difficult. If it didn't feel like you had to wrestle a suicidal bear to get through it, you weren't really reading. You: Look at the back cover. Sixteen Days of Coldest April: The back cover is dominated by a black-and-white photograph of the author... You: What does she look like? Sixteen Days of Coldest April: She can't be much older than her mid-30s in this photograph, and yet from this cover the eyes of a sad, old woman stare back at you. You: Look at the back cover. Sixteen Days of Coldest April: The back cover is dominated by a black-and-white photograph of the author...

Shivers: A brisk coastal wind still howls against the window of the shack. Occasionally the waves crawl in under the foundation, producing a low hum... You: Listen. Shivers: The room feels muffled, like you pulled your hat over your ears. Outside, it is cold and windy, but you're inside, and it feels safe and warm. Shivers: WHAT IS THIS PLACE TO YOU? You: It's free. That's good enough. I could live here. Shivers: Waves crash unto the beach, drowning the reeds. Far to the south a congregation gathers to a soup kitchen in a shelter for the homeless. An old woman gives out knitted scarves for free. Shivers: This could have been you. This could still be you. A down-on-his-luck nobody, trying to survive. You: "This feels like a cozy hideout." Kim Kitsuragi: "Mhm..." The lieutenant looks around. You: No, wait, I changed my mind, I want to choose again. Shivers: There is no going back. Shivers: Outside, the howl of the wind has picked up. The waves crash against the stilts again. It's as if you think the thought, but in someone else's voice... Shivers: REVACHOL FOREVER

Bust of Kras Mazov: A plaster cast bust depicts a middle-aged man with impressive sideburns. The name on the plinth reads 'Kras Mazov'. Encyclopedia: Kras Mazov (nom de guerre), was an economist and theoretical historian. He was a leading figure on the Graad side of the Turn-of-the-Century Revolution, where he headed the Eleven Day Government. Mazov is considered the father of scientific communism (Mazovian thought or Mazovianism). You: "Kras Mazov was a filthy homo-sexual." (Stare at the bust.) Bust of Kras Mazov: The bust doesn't reply. The hallway behind the door is empty; no one heard your words. You: Who is Kras Mazov? Bust of Kras Mazov: Situated between a poster of a white star and a photo of revolutionaries posing with their guns... This can't be a coincidence. There can be only one explanation. Bust of Kras Mazov: Kras Mazov is a *communard*. Encyclopedia: Yes, Kras Mazov (nom de guerre), was an economist and theoretical historian. He was a leading figure on the Graad side of the Turn-of-the-Century Revolution, where he headed the Eleven Day Government. Mazov is considered the father of scientific communism (Mazovian thought or Mazovianism).

Andre: "Yes?" You: "That's it for now." [Leave.] System: (Variable["church.ravers_inside_church"]) == false System: Variable["TASK.establish_church_dance_club"] System: Variable["TASK.look_into_church_spooks_done"] == false System: CheckItem("key_church_door") Andre: "Be careful in there, officer. And tell us how it goes, yeah? We'll be here."

You: "Agent... Is La Puta Madre some kind of travel agency?" Ruby, the Instigator: "Yeah, they love sending people to faraway places..." You: "I'm sure I'm supposed to know... but I lost my memory recently." Ruby, the Instigator: "Yeah, sure." Drama: She doesn't believe you. Ruby, the Instigator: "I'm sure La Puta Madre himself will explain it all to you soon enough." Shivers: A man in a white suit walks through a garden coaxed from soil that had once been covered in asphalt -- a city block closed off from the rest of the city by dark buildings. System: (Variable["boardwalk.ruby_la_puta_esprit"]) == false You: "Okay, other questions." Ruby, the Instigator: "Yeah. Other questions." You: Destroy the machine. System: (Variable["boardwalk.ruby_red_check_pain"]) == false Pain Threshold: The violent white noise becomes even more overwhelming closer to the Compressor. Feels like your brain is swelling up in your skull. You: Squirm in pain.

System: (DayCount() == 1) == false System: (Variable["TASK.inspect_traps_2_done"]) == false System: Variable["TASK.restock_trap_done"] Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Hello, dear. It's good to see a familiar face." The elderly woman smiles up at you hopefully. You: "About your pin..." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "I hope you were able to pawn that old trinket!" She smiles up at you earnestly. You: "I decided not to pawn it. You should have it back." (Give her the pin.) Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Aw, thank you, dear. I confess -- I am glad to see it again." System: (IsKimHere()) == false

Kim Kitsuragi: "This isn't going very well." You: "How did you hope it would go?" Kim Kitsuragi: "Honestly, I was expecting you to use your *unorthodox technique* to keep her off-balance -- and you know... *not* volunteer us to be her henchmen." You: "Oh, so we're henchmen now?" Kim Kitsuragi: "This woman is running circles around us. She might have known about your *misplaced badge* all along -- or she's simply an adept improviser. Either way, we've played straight into her hands." Empathy: He doesn't let it show, but there is a limit to how much the consequences of your unprofessional behaviour can cost the investigation. Logic: Maybe this is all her plan? She might have heard about you. You: "Her *proposal* was likely part of her design. This all is." Kim Kitsuragi: "Yes. Knowing this does not really change our position, however." You: "What do you propose -- that we *don't* investigate the drug trafficking?" Kim Kitsuragi: "No. If there is reasonable suspicion, we must investigate. Otherwise she could claim we're siding with the Union. Or that we're on their take. We'd never hear the end of it..." Kim Kitsuragi: "What I propose is -- we ask her. Then we investigate. *Briefly*..." He adjusts his glasses. "But do *not* share the outcome of this investigation with her. We tell her it's done and demand for her information on the lynching." You: "Her *proposal* was likely part of her design. This all is."

Pain Threshold: You feel something -- like a swarm of hornets buzzing under your scalp. A strange tingling you can almost *smell*. You: "Lieutenant, do you feel something?" Kim Kitsuragi: "No. What do you mean?" You: "A ghost." Kim Kitsuragi: "Hmm..." He looks ahead, beyond the arch. "Either way, we ought to be careful. There were footprints back there. And I'm pretty sure they were fresh." You: "I saw them too, in the sand back there. Do you think it's our suspect?" Kim Kitsuragi: "Possibly. If she's in here, we need to plan our next step carefully." You: "What do you mean?" Kim Kitsuragi: He lowers his voice. "Once we detain a credible suspect, who knows what the Union and the Wild Pines will do? We'll set in motion events we have no control over." Logic: You will upset the balance of power in Martinaise. The deadlock between the company and the Union will destabilize. Interfacing: This part of town is a fine clockwork puzzle. Disturb its peace and it will start breaking down -- uncontrollably. Volition: Keep calm. Go over the whole situation in detail. You: "What do you think is waiting for us there?" (Conclude.) Kim Kitsuragi: "I think I see a cavern..." The lieutenant's whisper echoes down the tunnel. "Maybe more cellars? I think we've been careful enough -- we still have the element of surprise." Savoir Faire: I wouldn't be so sure. You haven't exactly been sneaking.

Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: Do you remember the scent of your childhood? You: I was born in a hospital where people usually go to die. Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: You're not kidding anyone, Harry. You don't remember shit. Tell me... Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: Do you remember your wife's hand on your face? You: I left. Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: Oh no, funky-baby, you *stayed*. It was the rest of it that left. While you just stood there. With one hand on the bottle and the other on your dick -- watching it go. Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: Tell me, where are your friends? Human beings have friends, Harry-boy. Where the hell are yours? You: I can get it all back. Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: No. It's gone. Three times gone and never coming back. You failed. You failed me. Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: You failed Elysium. You: I can come back from this. Bloated Corpse of a Drunk: You're not coming back from shit! Thrashing around in that *high-conductivity state* of yours, bumping into things and acting like a *clown*. Who are you kidding? You: Help me... Ancient Reptilian Brain: Help you, why? I can't hear you, the rest is just a word-dream. Jumbled up garbage. The pictures are gone, the bed rises to meet you. A thin, sleep-like state. More glass than velvet, *grinding* in your head.

Acele: "Believe me, dude, it's better we talk about something else." You: "You said eating me? There's nothing eating me." Acele: "C'mon, I can tell." She shakes her head slowly. "But, okay, be a boiadeiro about it if you want to." You: "I guess... there is something... that's been making my life hell." Acele: "What is it?" She listens intently. You: "I think it's the plight of the working class." Acele: "Oh, really?" You: "The golem of capital runs rampant, smashing creator and slave alike. I fear the process is irreversible." Acele: "Wow. Social justice really matters that much to you? That's commendable. It really had you shaken up there... are you *sure* that's it, though?" You: "I haven't seen much of this world, but from what I've seen *social justice* is an adolescent term. Sounds almost liberal... what's got me shaken up is the *people's struggle* and it's got me shaken up *bad*." Acele: "Yeah, man, they're pretty bad," she says, without much conviction. You: "It makes me sick, thinking about the thousands... millions... billions? How many people are there, actually?" Acele: "Um..." You: "How many people are there in the world?" System: (IsKimHere()) == false Acele: "A city has millions in it, so the world would have a lot more. I think I knew the number once..." You: "Too many millions to even know, all squashed under the tyranny of the market. It's terrible!"

You: "Did you shoot Lely?" System: (Variable["boardwalk.ruby_didnt_do_it_arguments"]) == false Ruby, the Instigator: "No, I didn't do it. I only helped stage the lynching. Though I doubt that makes much of a difference to *you*." Authority: So she says she didn't do it -- and she doesn't trust you. Is it you specifically or the Citizens Militia that she distrusts? Ruby, the Instigator: "Who ratted me out, by the way? Was it Titus? No," she hesitates, "he wouldn't have broken first..." You: "When I threatened to arrest her, Klaasje broke... she told me everything." Ruby, the Instigator: "Oh." She smiles sadly. "Well, I guess I always knew she was a *survivor* above all else." System: Variable["TASK.arrest_klaasje_done"] You: Say nothing. Ruby, the Instigator: "But she couldn't have known I was on the coast. How did you find me?" You: "Your first guess wasn't entirely off..." Kim Kitsuragi: "Titus and his boys, ma'am. They told us you were on the coast." Authority: Even now, Kim is a paragon of professionalism: he's trying to make a clean cut of telling her she was betrayed. Ruby, the Instigator: She pauses, taking it in. "Well, fuck. And those guys *liked* me -- I know it. If this is what happens to people whom people like..."

You: "A white star." (Point to the star on the label.) Kim Kitsuragi: "No." He looks at it. "An *upside down* star." Encyclopedia: With its horns in the sky -- the symbol of the Commune. You: "Looks old. What's it still doing here?" Kim Kitsuragi: "After..." He thinks. "Forty four years? That's not nearly enough time to hide what happened here, officer." You: "RCM... It sounds like RCM -- Revachol Citizens Militia." Kim Kitsuragi: "It does." You: "Why?" Kim Kitsuragi: "The RCM *may* descend from the ICM." You: "*May*?" Kim Kitsuragi: "It's impossible to say." He looks toward the darkened doorway. "It was chaos after the war. The name was good for getting people to join us -- Revachol West was mostly workers and criminals..." Rhetoric: ...nice *political* thoughts rush through your neocortex.

Pain Threshold: Points are good. Have one, you old dog! Before we all die... System: (Variable["whirling.klaasje_kim_sports"] and Variable["whirling.klaasje_saw_sports_branch_in_race"] == false) == false You: "Could it be love that *did him in*?" Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer): "It very well could be, yes." You: "What do you mean?" Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer): "What *do* I mean?" She raises an eyebrow. "I have no idea. I don't even know what *you* mean. Love did him in? What does that mean?" You: "Okay then. Another question." Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer): "Of course," she says quickly. You: "Where is Lelystad? The place, I mean." Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer): "In Oranje, officer. It's a... I think *municipality* is the term? A nowhere-town there." Encyclopedia: The Lelystad municipality has few boroughs and even fewer cities -- it's made of agricultural plots near the border of Gottwald. Executive summary: cows, silos, and wheat. System: (Variable["TASK.ask_about_tattoo_done"]) == false

Savoir Faire: Master Investigator! You just can't keep yourself away from locked and hidden places, can you? You: What do you mean? Savoir Faire: Nothing. Nothing! You're right -- get in there... deep. Invade every personal space, break every lock... You: I'm just browsing... Savoir Faire: Yes, that's what it is... a quick peek here, a short glance there. It is all quite... delectable.

Suggestion: Nope, you don't have any new winning tactics to get the woman to spill the beans about cryptids. You: "You don't notice this about me, but actually -- I have lost all memory of the world and myself and I have no idea what I'm doing." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: She frowns, looking you over. "Surely things can't be *that* bad?" Inland Empire: You sense that she won't judge you, no matter what you say. You: "Yeah, I'm blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Forget I said anything." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: She nods, but still looks worried. You: "I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't know where I am, or what I'm doing. Or *anything*." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Yes, officer, you look rather dazed... like a stunned fox. But surely things can't be *that* bad?" Her eyes follow your movements with some concern.

Soona, the Programmer: "And now if you'll just connect that here..." System: (IsKimHere()) == false You: "Got it. Are we ready?" Soona, the Programmer: "We're ready to try, at least. Please, put those on. I've configured the channels so that only your microphone is set to broadcast. We'll both be able to listen, but anyone we reach will only hear *your* voice." Soona, the Programmer: "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?" You: "Wait, what if they *never* acknowledge me?" Soona, the Programmer: "Then it will be exactly like every other moment of every other day. I ask again: Are you ready?" You: "Yes." Soona, the Programmer: "Good. Beginning transmission." Horseback Antenna: ... System: Variable["auto.is_snowing"] Shivers: A soft rustling. The snow seems to have gotten between your ears somehow... System: (Variable["jam.warship_shivers_snow"]) == false Soona, the Programmer: "Go ahead, officer."

Savoir Faire: There! On that balcony. Do you see it? It's an artist! Conceptualization: A strong aura of *originality* surrounds the girl in question. Half Light: Quick, kill it with fire before it organises a *happening*! You: Yes, I can sense the *originality*... Savoir Faire: Seems to be one of those conceptual types... not good. If we proceed cautiously we might get something tangible out of her. You: Alright, I'm listening. What's the plan? Savoir Faire: Artistos are known to *repel* wealth. It bounces off their skin like rubber. The moment a reasonable business proposal enters their periphery, they go and get 'political'. Suggestion: Nonsense, no one 'repels wealth', the businessmen just don't know how to entice them. Rhetoric: It's true, some of them are known to turn the entire thing into a happening.

Encyclopedia: By the way, where *is* home? The address is coming up blank and this place sure isn't it... You: I have no idea. Encyclopedia: But you've been at this hostel-cafeteria for only three nights. Where were you before? You had to be somewhere. You: Up on Marvel Hill. Encyclopedia: Why did you say that? You: "Lieutenant Kitsuragi, do you know a place called Marvel Hill?" Kim Kitsuragi: "No..." He thinks for a moment. "But isn't that an expression, not a place?" You: "An expression?" Kim Kitsuragi: "A saying. Up on Marvel Hill -- a great, high place. One that is impossible to climb back to." Encyclopedia: That doesn't sound like somewhere you can stay if you run out of money. You: I'll live in a dumpster, I don't care. Fuck everything. Hobocop. Encyclopedia: Entertain the thought when you get the time. Maybe being a hobo *and* a cop has its advantages?

You: "My financial situation is none of your business." Kim Kitsuragi: "It's not my intention to make it my business, just to move this investigation forward." Composure: He is mildly offended that his display of camaraderie went wrong -- though it doesn't show in his posture. Kim Kitsuragi: "I'm pretty sure you can pick up some odds and ends to sell here. Take a look around." He nods toward a table heaped with knick-knacks. "The owner has eclectic taste." Authority: Eclectic taste? This shop is full of *stolen* goods -- a blight on the community! You: "*Or* we could shut this place down? The stuff is clearly stolen." Kim Kitsuragi: "On the contrary -- we should do our part to *support* the local economy." Esprit de Corps: ...we shouldn't disrupt the way things are done here, he thinks. And have little power to do so anyway.

System: Variable["TASK.inspect_traps_2_done"] Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Hello, sweetie. How are you?" She sounds tired. Perception (Sight): Dark circles around her eyes. She's absolutely exhausted. Empathy: She asked about you because she's afraid to hear about the traps. But that's what she really wants news of. You: "I restocked the empty trap... Where's Morell?" Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Thank you for doing that, dear." She manages a smile for you. Empathy: Her smile is weary. Her earlier ebullience has left her. Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Morell still isn't feeling well. I convinced him to stay at Gary's to get some rest." She looks down at her hands. "I'm afraid the cold has really gotten to him." You: "He gives up and *I'm* running around?" Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "I'm sorry, dear. It was me -- I made him go home. He gets *so* stubborn about these things -- luckily his cough kept him from arguing with me." Drama: Her voice is shaky. What is going on here? You: "So... who's going to check the traps?" Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Morell will eventually. Or we'll talk Gary into going back out, perhaps..." System: (IsKimHere()) == false

Evrart Claire: "Oh, of course. That's your main thing here. That's *why* you're in Martinaise." He nods. "I know everything that goes on around here and I would *love* to discuss it with you." Evrart Claire: "I mean, it's no secret that the lynching is connected to the strike -- so much to talk about! Honestly, it's been weighing on me so heavily. I understand -- you need to *interview* me..." You: Say nothing. Evrart Claire: "...but there's a *thing* that's been keeping me up at night. I *want* to talk about the hanging. I mean... if we could just calmly talk, exchange information, we could blow this thing wide open!" You: "Yes, let's blow it open." Evrart Claire: "But I *can't* think straight with this thing weighing on me..." He slaps himself on the forehead. "You're a police officer, aren't you? I have a crazy idea. You guys are basically door-opening machines. Incredibly talented at opening doors." You: "I've opened a few doors in my life." Evrart Claire: "And I'm sure you're gonna open this one with flying colours, Harry." He chuckles. "This really is very simple and there's nothing shady about it." Drama: An excellent opportunity presents itself, sire! You could win the trust of the arch-liar, pretend to play into his hand -- then, should you wish, bend his efforts towards your own! Physical Instrument: Does this jiggling ooze think he's going to *use* you? He's got another thing coming. Play his game, son, with your eyes peeled. He's going to slip up, and when he does -- you're going to come out on top.

You: "You know, Contact Mike doesn't *just beat people up*. Contact Mike is a role model." Acele: "Um..." Rhetoric: An entire *litany* spews forth! You: "On second thought, screw Contact Mike. He's not a champion -- you are! Look at you here in front of a saggy tent, picking your nose to drug-addict music. The world of sports is in awe of your faith and dedication." Acele: "Man, you are one weird cop." You: "I'd say I'm just about normal. Now about that mic -- Not Mike. Mic." Acele: "You do understand it all just sounds like Mike to me, right?" You: "Where did you get the mic from?" Acele: "Same place I got the recorder from. The Paliseum." You: "Tell me more about the microphone." Acele: "Sure." You: "How does that thing work?" Acele: "The mic? I don't exactly know. Somehow it doesn't pick up vibrations from the air. The box said it only picks up *structure-borne sound*. If you like technobabble."

Cuno: "Yeah, the Kingdom of Cuno, the fuck do you want with it?" You: "The dead man's clothes were in the trash container." (Point to the container.) "How did they get there?" Cuno: "Yeah, Cuno doesn't know shit about that. That shit is *beneath* Cuno." You: "Right. About something else, then..." Cuno: "Shoot that shit at Cuno, dumpster diver." You: "That ladder yours?" Cuno: "No, it's not fucking Cuno's, it's ancient -- look at it." Cunoesse: An evil squeak comes from behind the fence. "He thinks you're fucking four, Cuno! He says you climb the ladder up to your *magic tree house*!" Cuno: "Get the fuck out of here, pig! Cuno doesn't have a magic tree house!" You: "That ladder yours?" Cuno: "No, it's not fucking Cuno's, it's ancient -- look at it." Cunoesse: An evil squeak comes from behind the fence. "He thinks you're fucking four, Cuno! He says you climb the ladder up to your *magic tree house*!" Cuno: "Get the fuck out of here, pig! Cuno doesn't have a magic tree house!"

System: Variable["church.soona_archer_working_soona"] System: (IsKimHere()) == false Soona, the Programmer: "Good. Now, give me a hand with these amplifiers. Leave the cables. I don't feel like making two trips..." System: Variable["jam.warship_turned_down_archer"] System: SetVariableValue("character.committee_of_la_responsabilite", true) --[[ Variable[ ]] Soona, the Programmer: "Well, this was an *interesting collaboration*." You: "What do you think? Could I make it as a radio engineer?" System: Variable["jam.warship_interfacing_rc_success"] Soona, the Programmer: "Perhaps. You're certainly resourceful. That is a good trait in an engineer..." Soona, the Programmer: "In any event, just leave that equipment here. I'll put it away later. If you'd like, you can take one of the extra headsets. I don't need so many spares." Soona, the Programmer: "Now you'll excuse me. I have to get back to my own work."

System: (Variable["doomed.fridge_corpse_in_fridge"]) == false You: "2. Internal examination -- where were we?" Kim Kitsuragi: "Respiratory system," he pries the corpse's mouth back open. "Put it down as -- oral cavity shows no lesions, mouth swollen, haemorrhaging present in mucous of the lips and mouth." You: Look deeper inside. The Hanged Man: It's hard. You taste stomach acid in the back of your throat. A contraction -- your throat pumps a little something from your stomach and into your mouth. You're forced to swallow, just to keep looking... The Hanged Man: Inside you see darkness. Just a mess of meat and darkness. System: (Variable["yard.hanged_corpse_questions_unlocked"]) == false Inland Empire: Mute silence as always. Kim Kitsuragi: "Haemorrhaging present in mucous," the lieutenant repeats impatiently. He lets go of the jaws. The mouth snaps shut before you. You: Look deeper inside. The Hanged Man: It's hard. You taste stomach acid in the back of your throat. A contraction -- your throat pumps a little something from your stomach and into your mouth. You're forced to swallow, just to keep looking... The Hanged Man: Inside you see darkness. Just a mess of meat and darkness.

The Deserter: "Huh?" He leans closer with a strange expression on his face. Inland Empire: Now that you say them, the words feel like tin, heavy, they're coming from the bottom of you. You've said them half a thousand times... You: (Say:) "You will be taken to the nearest precinct holding area for preliminary investigation." The Deserter: "But..." His eyes fill with sudden terror: "You said I would be taken to the, uhm, the..." Composure: The sum of all the erratic, involuntary movements and mood swings he's been exhibiting... Shivers: The wind picks up. The silence on the water is broken, little shivers of waves appear... You: (Say:) "Your Wayfarer rights have been suspended. Information provided to the officer on the scene will be used against you by the prosecution."

System: Variable["inventory.suzerainty_mainhub_reached"] Suzerainty: The Board Game: The 'Suzerainty' box is heavy and slightly awkward in your hands. You give it a light shake, and feel the pieces shift around inside. You: "Hey, Kim, wanna play?" Kim Kitsuragi: The lieutenant looks over the rulebook before he sees something that makes his eyes go wide... Kim Kitsuragi: "Holy shit, the average playing time for this game is one to *six* hours..." Kim Kitsuragi: "I'm not sure we can afford to set aside *that* kind of time for a *game*." Empathy: So he says, but his gaze lingers a moment longer on the rulebook than is strictly necessary. He could *make* time, if he really wanted to. You: [Put the game away.]

You: René told you his war story, now impress him with *your* heroics. System: Variable["plaza.rene_hero_Story_rc"] Drama: Go long, go deep, go unconventional! You: I'd rather just ask him some questions. Drama: Of course, it's your call. But he would have been *really* impressed. René Arnoux: "Was there anything else, officer?" he asks impatiently. Looks like they both want to continue the game. You: "René... I need to go back in time. Can you help me?" System: (IsKimHere()) == false René Arnoux: "What?!" The old soldier scowls at you, unamused. Empathy: He thinks you're playing a joke on him. Gaston Martin: "Now, now..." His partner raises both hands in a calming gesture. "I'm sure the officer means it figuratively. Like a forensic technique or something, right?"

Shelf of Romance Stories: The shelves are littered with romantic tales from across time and space. You: Does anything more real, more *you* stand out? System: Variable["doomed.book_whitech_pain_threshold_romance"] Pain Threshold: As you focus on the overwhelming mass of colourful novels, a discrepancy catches your eye -- one of the books is not like the others. Shelf of Romance Stories: A grey book has lost itself between all the romance. The title reads: 'Sixteen Days of Coldest April.' Volition: Turn away, this is a bad idea. You: Why is it out of place? Pain Threshold: Someone thought this was a romance story, but it's actually a thoroughly excruciating work of psychological realism. You: Help, I don't want to do this... Shelf of Romance Stories: The shelves are littered with romantic tales from across time and space. You: Does anything more real, more *you* stand out? System: Variable["doomed.book_whitech_pain_threshold_romance"] Pain Threshold: As you focus on the overwhelming mass of colourful novels, a discrepancy catches your eye -- one of the books is not like the others.

Drama: Wow, so someone's been a little... *boring*? You: What? Drama: Yes, my *standard* liege. Someone's seen all sorts of wild ideas pop off and thought -- 'I'll take the *boring* one. The regular, please. The brown.' You: "Kim. Am I boring?" Kim Kitsuragi: "You?" He looks at you. "I wouldn't worry about that." Drama: See? You're so *regular* and vinyl-brown, he doesn't even want to talk to you about it. You: I like brown. Drama: Of course you do. And maybe some black shoes or a pristine white shirt to go with that. It's official: My lord's *copotype* is Regular Cop. I'll let everyone know. I'll send out a telefax. You: Why not. Send out the telefax then. I'm not ashamed. (Opt in.) Drama: Done and done. No actual *communiques* will be sent, of course. That would be too dramatic.

Mountain of Board Games: A small mountain of colourful board game boxes. There are numerous types of games for all ages. A lot of shelf space seems to be taken up by Wirrâl-related merchandise. You: "So what about all these 'Wirrâl' things?" Plaisance: "Lousy auras there!" She shudders. "No, *role-playing games* are popular among those types... you know, who're into those kinds of things. Personally, I don't like it. Not at all!" Plaisance: "I've heard they turn people into occult-enthusiasts. That they have rituals, where they try to summon entities. Highly immoral stuff... You can still buy them, though." She looks at the table, crossing her arms. You: Look through the pile of Wirrâl-related items. Mountain of Board Games: An endless variety of sourcebooks, lorebooks, and codices litter the table. The top-most book is titled "Welkin Compendium, Second Edition." Mountain of Board Games: There's also a large hardbound tome with intricate cover art: "The Hunters of Katuak: Boreal Creature Compendium," and a pick-your-path adventure gamebook titled "Tales of Wirrâl: Cavern of Velkraag." Conceptualization: Books in a *board game* section? Who wants to read books!? You: Anything that really catches my eye? Mountain of Board Games: There's a box that says: "Wirrâl. Third Edition Mega-Setting Supplements Module". The side panel notes: "A *fantastique* adventure board game. New maps and miniatures!" A sticker on it displays -- 25 reál. Logic: That price *is* steep, but then it's a Third Edition Mega-Setting Supplement, so it makes sense. Physical Instrument: Nonsense for anemic binoclards! You: "Storekeep, what board games do you have here?"

Writing Desk: A phone book lies open on the table, covering a stack of utility bills. Right next to it, in plain sight, sits a small bottle of amphetamine, conveniently equipped with a straw. Electrochemistry: Score! It's right there, baby. Today's your lucky day. Savoir Faire: You could slip the bottle right into your pocket -- the lieutenant wouldn't even notice... You: "Lieutenant, I've located psychoactive substances on this table." Kim Kitsuragi: "Good, confiscate it." Esprit de Corps: The minuscule amount of amphetamine doesn't interest the lieutenant in the slightest. He listens instead to something in the other room. You: Take the speed from the table. Writing Desk: You pocket the bottle as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Electrochemistry: Don't wait, celebrate! Blast that shit right here! Take inventory of it once this boring table shit is done!

You: "I thought about it and you know what? I can pay 3 reál for the spirits." Rosemary: "Finally came to your senses, huh, buddy-boy? Ain't nobody else gonna give you a price like that." The man starts laughing to himself. "Had to let life squeeze you to get that, huh?" You: "Yes, yes. Life, squeezing, spirits. Let's just make a deal already." Rosemary: "Sure-sure, friend. People are just so impatient these days. So, that'll be 3 reál from your pocket to mine. And at this price you're practically robbing me." You: "Here's the money for a pilsner." Rosemary: "Bottoms up, captain!" He hands you an ugly brown bottle. You: "Why does the bottle of spirits cost 300 reál?" Rosemary: "See, friend..." He brings out a one-litre bottle with blue-ish liquid. The mouth is corked shut. "It's *real* valuable. Worth every reál, if you catch my drift. Got it from a bit of a business venture..." You: Nod -- let him speak. Rosemary: "You know, it's funny, actually..." He bursts out laughing, then takes three gulps of his pilsner and stares at you intently. Perception (Sight): He's finding it difficult to focus his watery gaze. You: "What is?" Rosemary: "What?" Rhetoric: Keep him talking.

You: "Fine. 20 reál for the night." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: He sighs so much he seems to deflate. He slams the key before you. "The room is yours for the night. Don't forget you'll need *another* 20 reál tomorrow." You: "Garte, I saw another *thing* at the Whirling..." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "Another thing -- great. I love those." You: "I saw a sign that said the mess hall is reserved for the Union." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "Yes -- not the whole damn Union, thank god. Just the nastiest and *loudest* faction." He tosses his head in disdain. Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "They come here in the evenings. Dumb, unruly types. Think they're Big Shit. But they're good customers -- they place big orders, and always pay *on time*." Authority: He hates the Union, but grudgingly recognizes its power over him -- so he's directing his frustration at you instead. Retaliate! System: (Variable["whirling.garte_mess_authority"]) == false System: (IsKimHere()) == false You: "Garte, what if I told I got into the back room? Behind the blue door in the kitchen." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "Oh? Okay. Well." He controls his excitement well. "I did hear you make noise back there. So -- good for you." Composure: He's really, really holding himself back here.

Volition: Mm, these are some wonderfully regular pants. Not too tight, not too loose -- moderate in every sense. You'll blend right in at some pleasant dinner party. You: I like regular, normal things. Volition: Mhm, I know you do. These interisolary pants are like wearing a perfect *compromise* in your nether regions. No one will call the Moralintern on you like this, that's for sure. Volition: You're a little more moralist now, buddy. A little more *normal*. Even if you didn't want to be. Composure: Makes sense. This is what wearing boring office trousers does to you.

System: Variable["pier.joyce_village_intro_done"] System: IsNight() System: (Variable["pier.joyce_special_greeting_done_night"]) == false Joyce Messier: "You're back. Good." She takes a sip from her silvery thermal cup. "What can I help you with -- at this late hour?" You: "It's night. Don't you ever sleep?" Joyce Messier: "Matter of fact, I don't." She takes another sip. You: "Why is that?" System: Variable["pier.joyce_kim_medical_condition"] or Variable["pier.joyce_amnesia_known"] Joyce Messier: "I have a medical condition of my own -- nothing unusual, though. I'm *old* you see." System: (Variable["pier.joyce_overradiated"]) == false You: (Better not to poke further) "That's good. This way you can answer me some questions."

Cuno: You see the shape of a prepubescent boy in FALN pants. It turns double -- then triple -- from the pain. He says: Cuno: "Coinslot's dead." Pain Threshold: You can barely hear him, the pain is so bad. You: Say nothing. Cuno: "Just kidding, piggo," he chuckles. "The boo-boo wagon took the binoclard away. He's probably gonna live." You: "The what? Where did they take him?" Cuno: "To the hospital, fucktard. Try to keep up with Cuno." He glares at you with something akin to respect... Volition: Thank god, okay, he's alive. Cuno: "They say you shot that fucker in the face. That's fucking cool to Cuno." He looks down. "So I thought I'd stick around." You: "Go away, Cuno... Let me die in peace." Cuno: "Now's not the time to shit the bed, pig." He spits. "C'mon, baconman, Cuno's gonna help you hold your shit in."

System: Variable["boardwalk.drainage_hub_reached"] Drainage Pipe: Behind the pipe -- the maintenance door, rusted shut and half-sunken in sand. System: (IsKimHere()) == false Inland Empire: This isn't gonna work without the lieutenant here. What if you *do* find a way in and it's a *trap*? Kitsuragi needs to be here, covering you. You: Try to pull the door apart. System: Variable["boardwalk.drainage_wc"] Physical Instrument: The metal doors are heavy, and very awkward to open on your own, but you just manage to slide them open wide enough for you to slide yourself between them... Kim Kitsuragi: "Good work." The lieutenant nods toward the impenetrable darkness inside. "Shall we?" You: [Go in.]

System: (Variable["boardwalk.ladder_hub_reached"]) == false Feld Ladder: A rusty ladder leads to the rooftop. Some of the rungs are missing. System: (IsKimHere()) == false System: (Variable["boardwalk.ladder_climbing_vs_teleport"]) == false Esprit de Corps: You shouldn't attempt to climb this ladder without the lieutenant here. What if you fall and need to be rushed to the hospital? You: "What if I don't climb? What if I just... *teleport*?" Kim Kitsuragi: "Teleportation is not a thing." The lieutenant stares at you, stone-faced. Rhetoric: Even if it isn't -- no one told you. You: "Teleportation *is* a thing. Just needs a bit of concentration..." Kim Kitsuragi: "Okay, let's say teleportation is a thing. Wouldn't you need some kind of... scientific apparatus to create a teleportation field? You can't just do it without apparatus." System: (IsHourBetween(8,19) and Variable["TASK.locate_ruby_on_the_coast_done"] == false) == false You: "It won't hurt to try."

Acele: "Okay." You: "Tell me about Noid." Acele: "He's a Faubourger I guess, like the rest of us. Okay, maybe not Egg, I don't know about him, but Noid and the rest are from Faubourg, making the pilgrimage up north to visit The Paliseum." Acele: "He's real hard core about the lifestyle." You: "What is this pilgrimage you're talking about?" Acele: "It's just something poor Faubourg kids do every spring, to pass the time. We walk the entire length of Boogie Street, up to Jamrock. Or as much as possible." You: "Why wouldn't it be?" Acele: "I don't know man, have you *been* down Boogie Street? It's a little bewildering." You: "Oh, I'm sorry... have I not told you I'm a raging alcoholic who recently drank himself into an oblivion so deep he can't even remember what sounds like the biggest street in the city?" Acele: "Uh... no?" You: "Well, I am." Acele: "Okay, then you should go and take a look, I guess. Boogie Street is cool. It's got a lot of immigrants and all kinds of different people." You: "I might just do that if I make it there alive." Acele: "Yeah," she says, then opens her mouth like she's about to add something, but doesn't.

System: (IsTHCPresent("radical_feminist_agenda")) == false Drama: It's all very organic -- her mannerisms, her movements. If she's acting, she's quite gifted. Logic: By *they* she means the Hardie boys. System: (IsKimHere()) == false System: (Variable["whirling.klaasje_rfa_rhetoric_questions_rapeable"]) == false You: "You were asked to say you were assaulted? By the Hardie boys?" Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer): "Not explicitly, but I understood what they meant. It wouldn't hurt to spice things up a bit -- some assault and battery, *sexual* assault maybe. It was clear the latter would be *spicier*." System: (IsTHCPresent("radical_feminist_agenda")) == false

You: "Do you have an... alibi? For when Lely was shot?" Ruby, the Instigator: "Man, I was with the boys the whole night. I hope they at least bothered to impress *that* upon you." You: "There were... ten minutes they couldn't account for." Ruby, the Instigator: "You mean, the length of a toilet break? That wouldn't even have been enough time." You: "Hold on, *no one* takes a fifteen-minute leak." Ruby, the Instigator: "Look, fuck you, man. I might have also stopped by the bar." Drama: She speaketh truth. You: "Our investigation..." (wince from the pain) "has shown that fifteen minutes was *just* enough time to commit the murder." Ruby, the Instigator: "Wow, now I'm curious. Please, explain." You: "Okay then... I have other questions for you." Ruby, the Instigator: "I'm listening." You: "Do you have an... alibi? For when Lely was shot?"

Kim Kitsuragi: "I'm more interested in *why* you're so fixated on this idea in the first place." You: "I think I just need a break from our main case for a bit." Kim Kitsuragi: "I certainly understand the impulse, but this is our job, detective. Our whole *raison d'être*. At some point, we'll need to return to it." You: "Do you think we'll actually be able to reach the Coalition with this?" Kim Kitsuragi: "I wouldn't like to guess. Your performance so far doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but all sorts of things are possible..." Kim Kitsuragi: "*You* could reach the Coalition and have your talk about *la responsabilité*... *I* could grow 10 centimetres and become a flanker for the Stormers." You: Examine the transceiver. Office Radio: 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? Conceptualization: If this transceiver were a person, it would be an accountant at a large logistics firm. Perfectly competent, but unexceptional. You: Examine the transceiver.

Cuno: "Shitload, pig, what's your question?" Cunoesse: "Don't tell the pig shit, Cuno!" Reaction Speed: This is where you *quickly* ask him questions. Real cop-questions. Like a cop. System: (Variable["yard.cuno_cop_questions"]) == false You: (Whisper.) "Kim, help me out here. What do we want to know?" Kim Kitsuragi: "If I were to want to waste my time -- which I do not -- I would ask them who he is, how he got there, and the *usual*." Rhetoric: The usual being "have you seen anything out of the ordinary" or "have you seen anything suspicious"? System: Variable["yard.cuno_rhet_explain_the_usual_thing"] You: "Where's the rest of his armour?" Cuno: "Cuno doesn't give a shit about the armour." You: "Okay, another question then." Cuno: "Shoot that shit at Cuno." You: "Have you seen anyone suspicious around?"

You: "You're no fun, Lieutenant Killjoy." Kim Kitsuragi: He scans your face as though searching for clues. "I did not know murder investigations are supposed to be *fun*." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Now, gentlemen, no need to squabble." She turns to you. "I wouldn't be of much use to you anyway, sweetie." You: "You're probably right." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "I really would like to help out, but I don't want to slow you down. If it weren't for all the stairs and potholes in Martinaise, I'd join you for sure!" She looks out the window wistfully. You: "About your pin..." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "I hope you were able to pawn that old trinket!" She smiles up at you earnestly. You: "I got 3.20 for it. You should have it." (Give her the money.) Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Oh, that's very thoughtful of you. Are you sure you don't need the money? Okay, then. Thank you." Empathy: She really would have rather had the pin back, but she doesn't want to make you feel bad. System: IsKimHere() Kim Kitsuragi: Even the lieutenant seems happy with this turn of events. Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Now, what else, sweetie?" System: (Variable["whirling.lena_pin_task_from_main"]) == false

You: Establish authority in their eyes. System: (Variable["whirling.hardie_authority_wc_to_get_klaasje"]) == false System: (Variable["whirling.hardie_failed_wc_once"]) == false Authority: Establish authority, yes! AUTHORITY! Feverish thoughts race through your mind. You: "Let's try this again -- Kim, gimme your gun." Kim Kitsuragi: "No," he whispers, not even looking at you. "Not going to happen." You: "First you tell me someone's been *raped*, and then you don't say *who*. That's bullshit!" (Stomp your feet.) Titus Hardie: "Stop shitting your pants. You don't *need* to know, alright? We took care of it." Titus Hardie: He repeats: "The *law* handled it, alright?" Eugene: "Yeah, aren't you listening? It's done. Finito!" You: "You're not the law. I am the law!" System: Variable["whirling.garte_vanishment_failed"]

Measurehead: "DON'T WORRY, BABE. THIS WON'T TAKE LONG." Measurehead: "SO... WOMEN, HUH?" The Semenese supraman stretches on the couch like a giant tattooed cat. Composure: His shoulders relax, tension is leaving him. Visual Calculus: Strange, he seems different in here. Less 'monolithic' somehow. Inland Empire: The room feels soporific in its silence, dust particles twirling around in the air... You: "I like women." Measurehead: "AND? THAT'S WHAT YOU WANTED TO TALK ABOUT?" Measurehead: "WHAT IS THIS *REALLY* ABOUT?" You: "It's about her." (Nod solemnly.) "Revachol." Measurehead: "THAT IS A LIE YOU ADMINISTER YOURSELF. LIKE HEART MEDICINE. GO WITHOUT IT ONE DAY AND YOUR HEART WILL STOP." Measurehead: "MEN ONLY WANT TO REVERSE TIME FOR ONE REASON. THEY *SAY* IT'S ABOUT HONOUR, JUSTICE, REVENGE, REGRET, REDEMPTION, AND A PLETHORA OF FALSE REASONS, BUT FURTHER BACK -- DEEPER IN -- IT IS ALWAYS LOVE THAT DRIVES THEM." System: Variable["plaza.rene_its_About_love"] Reaction Speed: René certainly seemed to agree with that. System: (Variable["plaza.lorryman_fascha_rc_scss"]) == false

System: (Variable["TASK.report_to_the_tribunal_done"] and Variable["TASK.check_back_on_renovation_later"]) == false System: (Variable["jam.horseback_monument_scaffolding"]) == false System: (Variable["apt.student_posters_okay"]) == false System: (Variable["TASK.contact_warship_archer_done"]) == false Horseback Monument: An old monument stands in the middle of the traffic island, pointing toward the sea. It looks as if it's been reassembled piece-by-piece, secured and mounted in the air with the aid of numerous ropes and rods. You: Who is this? Horseback Monument: A silver plaque on the statue's pedestal reads: 'I am Filippe III, the Squanderer, the Greatest of the Filippian Kings of Revachol; Son of Filippe II, the Opulent; Father of Filippe IV, the Insane.' Volition: Not a good track record of mental health in that family. System: Variable["jam.horseback_monument_scaffolding"] You: Examine the scaffolding.

Electrochemistry: You should pick that fat, juicy cigarette butt from the tray, light it up and smoke the living shit out of it! You: Am I a smoker? Electrochemistry: Who knows what you are? A monster, a murderer, the Gnome of Geroma? You *feel* like a smoker, especially when you look at that juicy, succulent, seductive cigarette stub. Still smouldering deliciously... You: But she broke it at the filter. I can't smoke that. Electrochemistry: How very astute of you! This renders it ineffectual. You should look for a *whole* cigarette. Or better yet -- an entire pack! Strike that, a CARTON! Make sure they're all healthy and able-bodied, then smoke them all. Volition: Or -- you could *not* do that. No one is making you. You: Well... I'll think about it. Electrochemistry: Good! *Thinking* about yummy cigarettes in your mouth is the next best thing. Make sure you think about juicy sticks of tobacco *all the time*, though. It doesn't count if it's not all the time. Electrochemistry: And when you're done thinking about them, graduate to *getting* them. Electrochemistry: Plus, smoking them gives *massive bonuses*.

System: (Variable["jam.tommy_told_him_ruby_dead"]) == false System: (Variable["jam.tommy_tribunal_alt_greet"]) == false System: (Variable["TASK.report_to_the_tribunal_done"]) == false System: (Variable["jam.tommy_forced_him_to_out_instigator"]) == false System: Variable["TASK.search_through_the_locked_cabin_done"] System: (Variable["jam.tommy_altgreet_ladydriver_cabin"]) == false Tommy Le Homme: "I... uh... saw you poking around in lady driver's lorry. She in trouble?" You: "Wait -- so you *did* know something about who's smuggling drugs around here?" Tommy Le Homme: "Nah, man, I was telling you the truth. I really didn't think it'd be her. She's okay. Sorta troubled but, still -- a nice person." System: Variable["jam.tommy_empathy_wishful_emotion"] Empathy: So that's what that emotion was, before. It was *wishful thinking*.

Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "Yes?" You: "I know you said you'd let me know about the package, but -- what about now?" Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "I'm not dignifying that with a response." Rhetoric: Too late. You just did. You: "But you just did. Right there." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: The man actually remains silent this time. He looks at you expectantly. You: "Garte, I need to sing karaoke now." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "No, you *don't*." Composure: He tries not to look at you -- it's dangerous to *acknowledge* the karaoke man. Rhetoric: You need to approach this situation logically. Ask him why he has the PA system installed, if you can't use it. You: "Yeah, but..." (Look him in the eye) "Johnny Law is about to tear it up sad-style." Garte, the Cafeteria Manager: "The Whirling doesn't need more *sad style*. That's one of the styles it can do without right now." You: "You're right, it's not the right time yet."

You: "Man, I just can't get enough of these cryptids." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: She grins. "I'm glad you liked them, but I'm not really one to tell you about *all* of them. You should ask my husband if you get the chance. He's the real expert." You: "The water lock on the canal is broken, so your husband is probably just stuck on the other side of the coast." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Oh, my! What happened to the water lock?" You: "I broke it. Drove my motor carriage into a billboard above the lock, blocking the gates." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Oh, sweetie... Well, I'm glad you survived that. And I'm grateful for the information -- it will spare me another sleepless night." System: (Variable["TASK.get_morell_back_to_lena"]) == false System: IsKimHere() Kim Kitsuragi: "You're welcome, ma'am." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Listen, sweetie. I hate to ask, but if your investigation happens to take you to the other side of the coast, please do keep an eye out for my husband..." System: (Variable["whirling.lena_questtaking_passives_shown"]) == false Inland Empire: This will *surely* lead to a cryptozoological mystery with that *extremely rare insect*... Conceptualization: Yes! Some left-field scientific research is exactly what you need right now. Funk up that *vanilla* murder investigation.

Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "That's just it! This isn't like him at all. He always plans his expeditions so carefully..." Shivers: A cold breeze hisses through dense thickets of reeds.... Something sweet in it, somnolent. A damp chill goes down your spine. When you look around, you're still in the Whirling-in-Rags. Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: “But you have more important things to worry about.” She glances out the window toward the bay. Conceptualization: More important than a missing *expedition?* I don't know... expeditions often lead to something interesting. You: "You don't notice this about me, but actually -- I have lost all memory of the world and myself and I have no idea what I'm doing." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: She frowns, looking you over. "Surely things can't be *that* bad?" Inland Empire: You sense that she won't judge you, no matter what you say. You: "Things aren't *bad*. They're catastrophic." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "You know where we *are*, right?" You: "We're dead. Haunting each other. We're ghosts." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Now, now." She tilts her head as she looks up at you with maternal solicitude. Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "We are alive -- in a hostel called the Whirling-in-Rags. And the Whirling itself is in the city of Revachol." You: "Honestly, I don't really know anything about Revachol." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: Her grey eyes widen. "Oh my. How would I even begin to tell you? Revachol is the most beautiful city in the world. We're fortunate to be here, you and I." Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "I haven't seen very many other cities personally, but everyone says so. Revachol is a rare jewel. This city used to rule the world... Though it has seen better days." There's a pause as she studies your expression. You must look quite lost. Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife: "Speaking of history -- you know what *year* it is, yes?"

Suggestion: Hey, so we've been monitoring you internally, and now we know your *copotype*. You: Wait, there are *copotypes*? Suggestion: Yes. Guess what's yours? You: I was kinda hoping I'm the Apocalypse Cop. Suggestion: That is only a ludicrous daydream. Guess again. You're the... You: I was kinda hoping I'm the Apocalypse Cop. Suggestion: That is only a ludicrous daydream. Guess again. You're the... You: I was kinda hoping I'm the Apocalypse Cop. Suggestion: That is only a ludicrous daydream. Guess again. You're the... You: I was kinda thinking I'm the Regular Cop.

Evrart Claire: "Oh, I know everything about you, Harry." He taps on the folder in front of him. "I have a big fat folder on you. Very juicy stuff." Evrart Claire: "And the word on the street is your memory is a bit... hazy." He looks at you questioningly. "If that's true, maybe I can help you out? Do you a little favour so to speak." Rhetoric: It might be a good idea to hide your *confusion*... I mean, see what his game is first. You: "My memory is fine. Don't worry about it." Evrart Claire: "So good to hear that, Harry. Apparently my sources were wrong." He pats the brown folder again. Evrart Claire: "However if you *would* have a spot of memory trouble -- well, let's just say a fat juicy folder could really fill in the blanks." He winks at you. Conceptualization: Words flow like a river of honey from his lips. Rhetoric: I guess word has already reached him. No matter, no harm done. Perception (Sight): It's just a brown folder. You can't make out what's written on it. Kim Kitsuragi: "Are you trying to tell me you've gotten hold of some of our documents?" The lieutenant inspects Evrart over his spectacles. Evrart Claire: "Mr. Kitsuragi, would you mind?" His eyes never leave yours. "Harry has some questions he needs answers to."

System: (Variable["yard.cuno_punchhub_reached"]) == false Cuno: "Cuno's Cuno, pig!" The boy points to his chest with both thumbs. Logic: It's always *Cuno*, never *I*. Clearly the kid's using the third-person perspective as a shield. Half Light: Cuno... Primal. Violent. You: "Interesting... you refer to yourself in the third person to distance yourself from the situation?" Cuno: "Cuno doesn't do that *smart* shit." He seems offended. "Don't throw that book shit at Cuno. Cuno knows you're lying." Cuno: "Trying to get Cuno hooked on the book..." Empathy: The boy knows he has an addictive personality. Admirable insight for his age. Cunoesse: "Watch out, Cuno, he's trying to fiddle you. He's gonna put his HANDS on you!" The *thing* behind the fence starts squealing, shrill and violent like a fire alarm. Cunoesse: "Help! Pigs got Cuno! Help! RAPE!" The sound gets louder as the child shouts at the windows overlooking the yard. Cuno: "Help!" The boy joins in. "He's got the Cuno!!! HELP!!!" Reaction Speed: Everyone can hear. You need to get the hell out of here before... Volition: Calm down. Anyone watching can see you're doing nothing. Just keep it professional. System: (Variable["yard.cuno_volition_dont_get_excited"]) == false You: "I'm just going to leave." (Conclude the conversation.) Cuno: "Yeah, get out of here before the Cuno beats *the shit* out of you."

System: Variable["church.ravers_inside_church"] System: (Variable["church.andre_church_altgreet_done"]) == false Andre: "Yeah. It's all set up, man! Can you already imagine a thousand people in here?! Ten thousand?!" He waves his hands in an unbelievably lame, non-hard-core manner. Andre: "Ecstatic vibrations! Totally transcendent! And I've finished setting up the new compressor too!" He looks at the imposing black box in the corner that's churning out the sound. Andre: "Now the only thing left to do is the name of the club. Will you do the honours, detective?" You: "Soona, do you have an opinion on this?" Soona, the Programmer: "I don't." Noid: "Good, we have too many opinions anyway." You: "Kim, how would you name the club?" Kim Kitsuragi: "I wouldn't. I wouldn't build a club and I wouldn't name it either." Andre: "An underground place with no name? Sounds like something the crab-man would say." Acele: "We're not going with anything the crab-man would say." Noid: "Why not? The crab-man has *ideas*, Acele. Ideas from another level of consciousness!"

Kim Kitsuragi: The air outside is brisk, the lieutenant is silent for a moment. He listens to the traffic hum, then... System: (Variable["whirling.kim_orientation"]) == false Kim Kitsuragi: "Now then... we should talk about the investigation -- but I also feel you're a bit *hazy* on the RCM. Our role here, our rights. Our *jurisdiction* basically." He lights a cigarette. You: "So what are our powers exactly? The RCM?" Kim Kitsuragi: "They're quite limited, actually -- the power officers of the Revachol Citizens Militia exercise most *frequently* is imposing fines of up to 1000 reál for offences, in accordance with an interdepartmental schedule." You: "Okay. What else?" (Continue.) Kim Kitsuragi: "We can arrest people, of course, but, rather than bringing someone in directly, it's preferable to serve a *Station Call* slip. It prevents confusion and overcrowding." You: "I see. And if someone resists?" Kim Kitsuragi: "We are permitted to use whatever force we deem necessary. Even lethal." You: "And who makes all these rules?" (Continue.) System: (Variable["tc.rcm_origins_full_story"]) == false System: (Variable["tc.rcm_authority"]) == false Kim Kitsuragi: "The Coalition Government and the Moralintern more broadly."

Smoker on the Balcony: "Gendarmerie! You found me." The young man on the balcony gives you a bright smile, before taking another drag from his cigarette. Conceptualization: His slender figure is backlit by city lights, its distant streets and motorways flashing like diamonds... Empathy: It feels like a Friday. He seems to be in a good mood tonight. Electrochemistry: And his shirt is still unbuttoned. You: "I got your hint. Found the key right under that stone." Smoker on the Balcony: "Beautiful," he replies, smiling. As he looks at you, something sparkles in his eyes. Smoker on the Balcony: "So tell me, are you here to make things *right* again?" You: (Ignore his question.) "I was hoping to talk to a possible witness. Your balcony overlooks the murder scene." Smoker on the Balcony: "Then I have some good news for you..." His eyes narrow. A nearby street lamp casts shadows on his chin, drawing out the slender cheekbones. Smoker on the Balcony: "My Sunday friend is visiting me tonight. I told him about you and he'd like to say hello. Step in, he's already waiting." He nods towards door #28. You: "Is it Friday tonight? It feels like Friday."