Part 26: 17:01-19:38: The Death of Raphael
Chapter 26: 17:01-19:38: The Death of Raphael
ARIST: Time to see what mysteries the coast holds.
ARIST: Maybe don’t be so cavalier about mentioning the forgery, Kim.
ARIST: The decayed, rotted corpse of foolish hopes lies before you.
KIM KITSURAGI: “In this yard?” The lieutenant looks at the small building. A flock of grey swallows takes off in the distance.
VISUAL CALCULUS: [Medium: Success] He’s assessing the situation. How long ago it was abandoned.
KIM KITSURAGI: “A black bloc, a part of the city left unrenovated after the war. Or one that has fallen to gang violence. Or has become inhospitable in some other way.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Yes—for you to pick up as part of the Jamrock shuffle.” He gives you a weary smile.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Easy: Success] It’s not meant as nagging, just an observation.
\ARIST: It can’t be…
“SMALLEST CHURCH IN SAINT-SAËNS”: It sounds like someone’s moving in the room, getting comfortable. Then the organ starts playing a simple melancholic tune, echoing in the hallway. A lone singing voice joins in… Telling you about the tiniest church in Saint-Saëns, surrounded by an even tinier yard. You almost feel the seaside mist on your skin. It’s *mega* sad.
INLAND EMPIRE: Within seconds you know—this is the one. The *real shit* you’ve been looking for. The one you trashed your room to that Klaasjhe told you about. Perform it!
ARIST: It is!
INLAND EMPIRE: Of course you could sing this! You could take sad to a whole new level with this. And you already know the lyrics since you’ve listened to it, like, a million times!
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Easy: Success] Yup. They’re all here. All three verses.
ARIST: You follow the tire tracks north. There’s a mystery there just waiting to be solved.
ARIST: An utterly destroyed motor carriage is half-submerged through the ice. You wince reflexively in empathy for the poor vehicle.
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant adjusts his glasses and nods. “Hey—let’s keep moving, detective.”
ARIST: Why’s Kim acting strange? Whatever.
ARIST: Nothing left to do but figure out whatever happened with the U-Boat commander here. Inspect the motor carriage. Even if it has nothing to do with the case, it’ll probably be worth a laugh.
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water.
INTERFACING: [Medium: Success] The seawater has already started to corrode the metalworks.
ARIST: You begin to suspect that Kim is just kind of a weirdo.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Easy: Success] You get a sudden sinking feeling. Stomach acid comes up as you look at the motor carriage in the deep, dark, cold water.
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE: The motor carriage is properly stuck in the ice. Getting it out would require a team of specialists.
KIM KITSURAGI: “The ice hasn’t closed around the vehicle yet…” He leans forward to peek in to the cold water. “My guess is it’s been here since last Saturday or Sunday.”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] Great idea! Then we can get the things inside. The joyrider must have left something good inside. Guns? Papers? Maybe a cool jacket? A joyrider jacket?
PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Medium: Success] The hinges creak under your weight—dangerously so.
SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] The wind blows. In the distance, behind the church, some vagrants are having an argument over a bag of tare they found in the reeds. Further away—a flock of sea gulls lands.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Well…” The lieutenant rubs his chin. “Historically, leeches have been used to prevent and even cure many ailments…”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] ‘Okay,’ he’s thinking. ‘I can do this. Let’s do this. Who’d want to sit on an anthill? There are no therapeutic benefits to…’
KIM KITSURAGI: “Yes. 41. What do you think it stands for?”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] It’s as if he knows what it stands for, but wants you to say it. It’s pedagogical.
ARIST: Oh. Fuck.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Trivial: Success] Forty-one. Precinct 41. A massive pit opens up in your stomach and the most terrible feeling comes over you.
ARIST: This is… this is… sorry man, this is just fucked.
ARIST: Your head is spinning, there’s flashes of heat in your face and your arms, crawling across your body with the thickness of magma. It’s over. It’s all fucking over. What the fuck are you going to do?
KIM KITSURAGI: “That is very unlikely,” the lieutenant replies with a sigh. “All the electrics are toast. That goes for the electromagnetic steering and brake systems as well. You’d be *lucky* to find an undamaged component in there…” He shakes his head. “In a few months there will be nothing *but* rust left of this vehicle. It’ll be cheaper to buy a new one…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Let’s face it, this is a substantial loss to your district’s budget.” He’s avoiding your gaze now. “I mean, my station only has four other vehicles in addition to my Kineema…”
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant adjusts his glasses and doesn’t say anything.
ARIST: This is a fucking disaster. But you have to, *have to* move forward.
ARIST: Ha. No goddamn way.
BADGE: LTN-2JFR DU BOIS: Encased between two durable plastic sheets is a bluish card with two lines of information—and a watermark in the shape of the street grid of Revachol West.
BADGE: LTN-2JFR DU BOIS: The man keeps winking at you with his green-grey eyes. The photo is old, no doubt about that.
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] But the badge is new. You used an old photo for a new badge.
BADGE: LTN-2JFR DU BOIS: Why do you think? His face is already contorted by the Expression. Although it looks less grotesque on him than it does on you now.
ARIST: You feel a layer of reality, a layer of *yourself* fall away as you say these words. Goodbye, Raphaël.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Harrier Du Bois.”
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] He’s not going to call you Harrier. He’ll keep calling you ‘officer’ when he’s angry with you and ‘detective’ when he’s not.
KIM KITSURAGI: “There are many reasons one would do this. The rank above you in your precinct’s *décompatage* might be taken. Or sometimes promoted officers do not *want* to replace their superiors—out of respect. And sometimes,” he continues, “they just prefer the type of police work available to their current rank—in your case, lieutenant.”
ARIST: On some level, you’re good at what you do. You deserve to feel pride in that, if nothing else.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Décompatage is the hierarchical system employed by the Revachol Citizens Militia. It means counting down to twos.”
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Medium: Success] The countdown is modeled after the dual-leadership system employed by the left during the Revolution. Which in turn was developed by last century experimental psychologists n the University of Koenigstein.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Kinks like satellite-officers and the additional yefreitor rank I already explained.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “No. I’ve been putting up with you because despite an unconventional approach you’re doing good police work. It matters more than driving your motor carriage into the sea.” He smiles encouragingly. And now we’ve even found your badge.”
ARIST: You’re not sure your precinct will see things the same way as Kim does, but you feel good anyway.
KIM KITSURAGI: “That’s just the serial number. Revachol, Jamrock, Precinct 41, with some numbers thrown in there for good measure.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Four months ago—I’m guessing that’s when you were promoted to the rank of lieutenant double-yefreitor. A new badge usually comes with a new rank. You seem to have been… doing well then.”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] You’re pretty sure you weren’t doing *well*—but better? Probably yes.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] A lot can happen in four months. Especially in winter. The winters are never easy on you, of that you are sure.
KIM KITSURAGI: “It’s a *tough* station to work in. You have all of Jamrock to cover—that district should have *three* Precincts but money is what it is.”
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] It’s no wonder you are like you are, he thinks. But then again…
KIM KITSURAGI: “But then again…” A faint smile. “It’s a legendary district. And a hell of a Station, too. It must be an honour and a curse to work with people like Pryce, McCoy, Berdyayeva…”
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Medium: Success] …Roberts, Fuerbach, De Mettrie… suddenly names from your décompatage flash in your forebrain.
REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] He knew all those people although they’re not from his Station. They must be big.
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] And you? Is it an honour to work with you? Don’t ask him, ask yourself.
ARIST: This tiny piece of acrylic contained so much information, so much history. You had more to lose than you ever realized. Keep it safe.
ARIST: There’s nothing to be done about the motor carriage. You head down the coast, abandoning it to rust away…