Part 31: 7:30-9:14: A Little Light Mail Fraud

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: On and on it goes, for untold hours. At the disco where you first asked her to dance. Rising—rising!—above the dark curvature. The great wingspan of sleep, studded with stars.



ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: It’s the *world*, Harry-boy. And you’re *made* of it. Every day you’re outt there you make more of yourself from it. I’m afraid you can’t be *unmade* now.



LIMBIC SYSTEM: Beautiful? It’s *stuck* on loop… whirling, spitting out words and images.
ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: You’re the son of the World again. Harrister—a ceaseless agent picking up litter and old newspapers, collecting your little bubble gum wrappers and idiotic picture postcards. Meaningless, meaningless keepsakes.



ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: You’ll go insane if you keep going like this. One more day and you’ll be in the loonie bin. I just know you will. And for what, brother-man?



LIMBIC SYSTEM: Beep-beep-beep! The alarm is ringing, Harry. The disco circus goes on and on! You barely slept three hours last night.
VOLITION: [Medium: Success] You can do it. It’s nothing. Do it for the city. Go.
SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] Do it for the wind.





Chapter 31: 7:30-9:14: A Little Light Mail Fraud




ARIST: [Medium: Success] Go on. Face the day.



ARIST: [Medium: Success] Kim strides up to you, oblivious to your troubled sleep. No, he’s only familiar with your troubled *awake* self. Probably for the best.



INTERFACING: [Easy: Success] Wait! Don’t get her signature! Forge those babies!
ARIST: Fine, but we’re ratting you out if we get caught.

WASHERWOMAN: “I *can* wash it for you,” she says after looking the jacket over, “but it’s going to take about half an hour. Think you can stay put for that long?”
VOLITION: [Medium: Success] Hell yeah!



WASHERWOMAN: “Well, hand it over then and I’ll see what I can do…”



ARIST: [Trivial: Success] Despite her warning that it would take thirty minutes, she’s got the downright heroic task finished in fifteen. What a woman.










LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “The name is Lilienne. People call me Net Picker.” She gestures toward the fishnets. “I think I have time for questions. And that was actually the second one.”
LOGIC: [Easy: Success] Indeed. You’re always confused as to your whereabouts.




ARIST: [Easy: Success] You instantly realize you aren’t actually looking for any specific person, you dumbass.





LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “Sometimes I also walk the beach to see what the sea has given up. The sea is full of surprises.”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] Keep it professional, man. Don’t make it sound like you’re hitting on her.



LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “Wood. Pieces of glass. Every once in a while we see dead bodies—human, animal, fish, other odd sea creatures. A mine washed ashore, once… She looks at the beach and continues: “Bottles. Drugs, also. Lost cargo in general. But most of the time, it’s just wood and glass.”



ARIST: [Legendary: Failure] It’s probably your obligation as a police officer to ask about those bodies… but fuck that, we need more information on that *mine*!

LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “Well, the RCM has to wait for another one, cause some army folks came by, took it in the middle of the bay and blew it up.” She spits over the railing. “The blast was surprisingly timid for such a huge spiky thing.”







LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “What makes you think we haven’t?” She smiles. “Heh. The truth is that almost everyone in this life is scared and tired and stupid and too *dull* for that.”



LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “Her eyes meet yours and suddenly she starts laughing. It’s hoarse. As if she hasn’t laughed in a while.



LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “Sure.” Her face straightens. “It looks as if you could face down any horror in the world with that same unchanging grin. It’s like a shield.”





ARIST: [Medium: Success] You just can’t get enough of these fucking missing persons cases, huh?

KIM KITSURAGI: “It absolutely does not,” the lieutenant quietly interjects. “We are *not* going to look for him.”



LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “He didn’t respect the sea. Went out there drunk like a skunk and sure enough one day the boat was found floating empty. The bloated corpse turned up two weeks later.”



LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER: “Us working folk don’t have the luxury to be bed-sick with melancholy.” She crosses her arms. “I buried him, mourned for an appropriate amount of time and went on.” She glances at the village where two little kids are playing with what look like rocks. “Life didn’t really change that much for me and the kids…”
EMPATHY: [Easy: Success] This is neither a touchy nor a very interesting topic for her.




ARIST: [Medium: Success] Fucking don’t, Copanova.









We examine and put on those boots we found in the fish for some reason.





LILIENNE’S TWIN: This one doesn’t say anything, kicking the concrete with his worn-out sneaker.



LILIENNE’S TWIN: The stone-kicker laughs suddenly. His head is too large for his shoulders.
LILIENNE’S OTHER TWIN: The other one laughs as well.



LILIENNE’S TWIN: The boy stops laughing and looks at his toes.
HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] Oh, okay. So now he’s *shy*. Now he’s not talking, just wobbling around like he’s afraid of something.



LILIENNE’S TWIN: The stone-kicking one becomes frantic all of a sudden, as if that’s something to be scared of—the obvious fact that you just stated.



LILIENNE’S OTHER TWIN: The boy doesn’t answer. His brother throws another rock. Both of their hair is covered in some kind of dirt.
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] The rock-kicker was just being *shy*, but now he’s enthusiastic again.






ARIST: [Medium: Success] You pilfer this educational book for first-graders. Never know when that’ll come in handy, I guess.










LITTLE LILY: “Ooooh.” She looks alarmed. “I had gloves, very big ones! Heavy, too.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Where did you get these gloves?”
LITTLE LILY: “Found them when Lamby and I were playing hide-and-seek. In an empty house where no one lives! I think someone hid them there…”

ARIST: [Medium: Success] Curious. Who could have put them there?



LITTLE LILY: She pouts. “I hid them. The twins were going to take them. They’re stupid…” She lifts her stuffed toy up and looks into its one remaining eye, as though searching for confirmation.
KIM KITSURAGI: “We’re going to need those gloves. It’s for important police business.” He enunciates the last two words carefully.
LITTLE LILY: “Oooh…” She doesn’t seem to understand, but the lieutenant’s tone has conveyed to her the “important” part.





LITTLE LILY: “Yesss.” She frowns. “They don’t want to play with me. They’re older and play outside!”




LITTLE LILY: “It’s a *grouse*,” she yelps, smiling broadly.





LITTLE LILY: “It’s Lamby! He’s my friend. Sort of, like…” She holds the fuzzy beast up to demonstrate.







ARIST: [Easy: Success] Yeah, just go ahead and steal the taxidermy, whatever. It’s fine, the child said it was okay. That makes sense.



ARIST: [Trivial: Success] Out back, we find what appears to be the sandcastle Little Lily mentioned.







We put them on, replacing the gardening gloves we’ve been wearing for about three days straight now.

ARIST: [Medium: Success] Somehow wearing these armored gauntlets gives you *more* dexterity than the rubber gloves did. Figure that one out.












SHIVERS: Chemically sweetened. Across the road, a forgotten bus stop; corrosion has opened a hole in its roof. An elm tree watches over the building. Its branches are dripping with rain and snow.



SHIVERS: A tub warm with water, white with soap. A man bathes while radio waves transmit the lottery numbers: 4, 18, 21, 4, 1… A modern washing machine rattles a drawer full of silverware.




SHIVERS: Craters pocked the surface. Children played in them, until heavy trucks full of black pitch rolled in. The landowners have filled the craters with money. It is a vital artery of flow of trade.






ARIST: [Easy: Success] You notice three rowdy men, already drunk out of their minds. Might as well question them, you suppose.




ARIST: [Medium: Success] Oh god, he knows you.




IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Yeah, Tequila Sunset!” He takes a sip, “How are the uhm, high-concept, reality-based adventures proceeding?”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] He says it like it’s obviously your name. Like you call someone Billy Brunuel or ‘leader of the Fourth Street gang’.



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “It’s good to hear that you’re on top of things. Talking about used—did you know that I *used* to be a real mover and shaker?” He thoughtfully picks at his shit-stained Lickra(TM) jacket. “Sadly, things aren’t going that well in Idiot Doom Spiral Land. Haven’t found those keys yet; haven’t won that great piece of ass back. No word from my business-buddies…” He takes a sip from his beer.



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “We are saving the world!” He looks at his comrades.



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Okay, we’re drinking. We’re drinking alcohol—that’s what we’re doing. I *tried* to save the world once, a long time ago, with enterprise, creativity and willpower, but that didn’t work out.”




IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “We’ve met before, don’t you remember?”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Aha!” He takes a sip from his beer. “Do you want to know how Tequila Sunset came to be?”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “You think you feel bad *now*, wait till you’ve heard the story.”




IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Hey, let’s not jump ahead of ourselves, this is *your* story. Stop interrupting.” He takes another sip—then continues. “You got here on Friday to solve a case, hoping to be the early bird who gets the worm. And by ‘the worm’ I mean ‘the buzz’, because as far as I know, all you did was get piss-drunk… Word on the street is you went around the local hostel telling people that you’re a police officer and that it would be *really* fucked up if you shot yourself in the head right in front of them. That’s pretty high concept, if you ask me.”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “It was a late Saturday night, when we, the Union of Moribund Alcoholics, were getting our drink on. Nothing remarkable about this, we get our drink on 24/7. Makes everything warm and glowy, I trust you know the feeling. One moment we hear the sound of a motor carriage revving up somewhere on the plaza, followed by a series of dings and bangs.
PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Medium: Success] Do you remember the sound of wood cracking? The billboard…



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Anyway, there was a brief silence—a *gasp* of silence, if you will—followed by a real commotion. We heard the carriage careening towards the coast at top speed. Sounded like someone jumped the canal. We grabbed our brewskies and rushed to the jetty—never underestimate the speed of an alcoholic… What we saw was a sight to behold. A beat up police carriage, containing you. Right there on the beach. You revved the engine and screamed at the top of your lungs… ‘THE TIME HATH COME.’ So, naturally, being the curious cat I am, I asked what time hath come, to which you replied…”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “After which your reality contracted—you jammed the pedal, ploughed right off the jetty and through the ice. We ran towards the ice, whilst you crawled your way out, miraculously unhurt—covered in sea weed and shit. Like some kind of sea monster. When we finally got there you were sitting on the beach, crying. You said that your badge and uniform were in the car. It was too late to get in there though, the carriage had sunk too deep.”
RHETORIC: [Challenging: Success] In this way, you and your motor carriage have a lot in common.

ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Thank you, Rhetoric, for unnecessarily clarifying that metaphor.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: Recognizing a brother in need, we offered our condolences and invited you to party with us, which you naturally agreed to…”





IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Hours. It was an all-night drink-a-thon. Then at some point—I think it was Sunday morning—you got belligerent and wanted to talk about *Revacholian women*. How they’re beautiful and also whores and so on. How one of them fucked you real bad. After a short while you crossed the event horizon, looked sullen, got up, and left without saying anything.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Wow. That’s *quite* a story.”
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Yeah, I bet Tequila’s a fucking legend around the precinct. You must be proud to work with him.”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “You were pretty vague about it, but you kept saying you got fucked *real hard* and that we’ve all been fucked too…”
INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] Please don’t open that door.





IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Beside your gun and your badge? You said something about your hope, or heart, or something. To be honest the details are a little hazy…”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “You told us that they were a bunch of fucking losers whose main interest was ‘cramping your style’…”
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] It’s more like you were cramping theirs.



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Yeah, you said it was no biggie and that you’d solve it in no time.” He takes a strong quaff of his beer. “And that you didn’t need *anyone* to do it. You’re doin’ it *solo* now.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “A lot of cops go *solo* and *hermit* once they reach that level of alcoholism.”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Yeah, you kept talking about how the *coal mine owners* were fucking us all over just like that woman fucked you…”



IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “You kept apologizing for being such a bad cop and for the damage you’ve inflicted on everyone around you…”



ARIST: [Medium: Success] Enough.




IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “It depends, really. Are you willing to help me out?”




IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: “Booze. Did you already forget our party?” He taps his finger to his temple. “The thing I relayed to you earlier?”



ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Normally you might think twice about indulging an addict’s cravings, but there is plainly no stopping this man.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL: He lifts his hands and spreads them wide. “Then I will see you again once you’ve procured some. *Par example* —my good friend Rosemary here sells all kinds of stuff.”



ARIST: [Medium: Success] They’re sitting right next to each other. Just hand it to him, why do they need you?






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. 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.




KIM KITSURAGI: “Fine,” he sighs.
ROSEMARY: The fresh entrepreneur has forgotten your presence and is now trying to count a small number of coins in his hand.
VISUAL CALCULUS: [Medium: Success] There’s réal, fifty in his palm.



ARIST: [Easy: Success] Just because you think of it and it sounds funny doesn’t mean you have to say it. You’re pissing off Kim.



ROSEMARY: “You know what’s crazy, actually…” He grins, then bursts out laughing, then takes three gulps of his pilsner and stares at you intently.



ROSEMARY: “What?”



ROSEMARY: “This guy, this guy…” He says and shakes his index finger at you.



ROSEMARY: “Oh, this is medicinal spirits. The good stuff. Got it from the doctor’s office. I got one of those scientific ampoules a few months ago. ‘Torpedo’ they call it. It’s supposed to keep a man from takin’ a drink.” He spits a nasty yellow clot on the ground before you.



ARIST: [Medium: Success] Just humor this guy.

ROSEMARY: “Well, it really isn’t,” he croaks. “In a week the goddamned kidneys started giving me all kinds of hell. Finally the missus took me to a private doctor’s office—not a charity, the real thing…”



ROSEMARY: “But the idiots left me alone in there. Now, I used to teach high school biology. I *know* what doctors use to preserve dead thingies…” He gets an excited gleam in his eyes. “Swiped three cans of this blue medicinal stuff from the back room. Threw the snakes out and voilá—what’s left is this beautiful blue stuff.” He shakes the bottle. “98.7%, almost pure alcohol. Two I already sold to these fine gentlemen here,” he nods at his companions. “But this last one is your for 3 reál, if you want it?”



ROSEMARY: “Here…” He uncorks the bottle and holds it under your nose. “Be careful, it’s extremely flammable. One spark and the entire City of Revachol is wiped off the map.”
PAIN THRESHOLD: [Legendary: Failure] Feels like someone set a mustard field ablaze right inside your nose, then drenched it in tear gas. Your nose is a singular source of pain… but at the same time you don’t remember the last time you felt so alive.
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] In all fairness, that might be attributed to the retrograde amnesia.

ARIST: [Legendary: Failure] As Rosemary pulls it away from you, your entire body tenses. You almost follow it reflexively until you snap out of your haze. You’d probably die if you drank that… but still… you’re suddenly so thirsty…
VOLITION: [Medium: Success] Don’t. Not on the job. Not in front of Kim.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Come on… it’s right there! Fill yourself with the blue, the cleansing fire!
VOLITION: Smelling it was a mistake. You need to leave, *now*.



ROSEMARY: “So what do you want then?!”




ARIST: [Challenging: Success] You back away quickly from Rosemary and his pile of vice, eyes still watering from the spirits. You forget about getting Idiot Doom Spiral his drink. You probably can’t be trusted with it right now anyway. Kim looks at you for a moment in confusion before he realizes. He says nothing, doesn’t even acknowledge it, but you know he knows and you’ll forever thank him for not making a big deal out of it. Behind your back, Don’t Call Abigail mutters the same name he’s been repeating since you arrived, “Abigail…” You haven’t talked to him yet, but you don’t turn back. You doubt you’d get anything useful out of him in his delirium, and besides, you find his pain hauntingly familiar for reasons beyond your ken.



ARIST: [Medium: Success] Back over by the washerwoman, you take a few minutes to decompress. Your eyes keep darting back over to Rosemary, now sitting idly chatting with his companions. Needing a distraction, you decide to get to work on that forgery.





ARIST: [Easy: Success] Looks like you’ll have to find somewhere more private if you want to avoid the threat of Evrart Claire looming over your head.





ARIST: [Easy: Success] That’ll have to do.



INTERFACING: Indeed. They look distinctly different and very convincing. These might as well be their actual signatures. But they’re not, and the document will be nullified if they dispute it. That means Evrart will have to start over.




ARIST: [Medium: Success] It occurs to you that any number of things could go wrong with this plan to sabotage Evrart, a man with plenty of power to throw around. He could easily find a way around this roadblock, couldn’t he? Even so, sometimes all you can do is try.