Part 30: 1:28-Around 2:00: Incrementalism In The Night

Chapter 30: 1:28-Around 2:00: Incrementalism In The Night



Still pissed about those snake eyes.

ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Well, time for you to head back to the fishing village for some slee—OH FUCK
>1. What?
ARIST: The smoker on the balcony! You were supposed to go back and find him!



ARIST: [Trivial: Success] Thankfully, the man is apparently fine with hanging out here smoking until 1:30 in the morning in the biting cold while not wearing an undershirt. How aloof.




SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “Beautiful,” he replies, smiling. As he looks at you, something sparkles in his eyes.



SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “Beautiful,” he says again. A nearby street lamp cast shadows on his chin, drawing out the slender cheekbones.





SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “That’s nice, but I don’t have anything to tell you. It’s my friend you’re looking for, not me.” He takes another drag of his unfiltered cigarette and looks around. It’s getting dark and the neighbouring windows have lit up one by one.

“Getting” dark?

PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] Downstairs a cat crosses the yard, disappearing into the bush.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “Besides, I’ve got to run.”
INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] He’s going to leave you alone again. That’s sad.



SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “To the city.” He gestures idly towards distant motorways. “It’s a beautiful night.”



KIM KITSURAGI: Something flutters in the corner of the lieutenant’s mouth as you’re saying those words.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “We’ll talk,” the smoker assures you, brushing his hand through the hair. “Just not tonight.”






KIM KITSURAGI: “His shirt…”
DRAMA: [Medium: Success] He’s trying to dive deep into the mysteries of his *shirt*!
KIM KITSURAGI: “His shirt… No, I don’t know why his shirt is always unbuttoned.” His mouth tightens, as though trying to hold something back.
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] He’s barely holding it together. It’s all he can do to keep from bursting out in laughter.














ARIST: [Medium: Success] This seems… unfortunate.







ARIST: [Easy: Success] Well, talk to the *important witness* you’ve been dying to see.



AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] You shouldn’t be seeing him in an intimate setting. For some reason you feel this man is your… *superior*.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Easy: Success] Superior? But he’s not in the command chain…
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] His hands are clean and well-manicured. This is a man who knows the importance of appearances.
SUNDAY FRIEND: “My name is Charles Villedrouin and I’m an official with the Coalition Government. I work for the Institue of Price Stabilitié, on assignment from Sur-la-Clef. I heard you talking to my friend outside… Very good. Super. I am here to assist you in any way possible. Ask me about the hanging.”
SUGGESTION: [Medium: Success] No, first ask an innocuous personal question to get the interview off on the right foot.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “I got it from the head of the Samaran delegation on my trip to Lo-Manthang. It’s made from a *special* charcoal-coloured bamboo. It’s an emblem of the formal normalization of our diplomatic relations.”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] He’s alluding to the decade-long war of independence while deftly brushing aside the *complex* causes behind the conflict.
SUNDAY FRIEND: “That’s really all I can tell you about it.” He forms a little rooftop with his fingers. Cold air sweeps in from the balcony.
AUTHORITY: That didn’t work at all.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “I’m sorry to say I did, officer.” The man gives a solemn nod.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Because I *did it*?” the man scoffs.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Officer, it’s very difficult to describe what I saw that night. It was so surreal to me, like in a play.”
DRAMA: [Medium: Success] He holds out his hands and blossoms his fingers, like a drama teacher setting the scene.
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant is already scribbling down notes. “What do you mean, ‘like in a play’?”
SUNDAY FRIEND: “It was just so strange. I could barely comprehend what was happening… I was on the balcony when it happened, getting some fresh air. I remember that first they came in, carrying what looked like a body, and then I saw all the surrounding windows go dead one-by-one… That’s when I understood—I should not be seeing this.”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Only that there were about eight or ten—I couldn’t make out anything, it was so dark—and that it was *quiet*, he says, smoothing his hair. “Quietest lynching I ever *heard of*, let alone heard…”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “The Coalition is only looking out for *ze price stabilitié*.” He raises an index finger. “Inflation is a killer, like a heart disease blocking the normal circulation of the economy—It must be controlled…”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Ah, well, I’m renovating it. It is an interesting project. The building used to be a twelve-story skyscraper before the cannons took the top four stories off. This of course happened when the Coalition forces landed here…”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Yes. As I said before, I’m a commissioner from Sur-la-Clef working for the Institute of Price Stabilitié.” He glances at his watch. “This is one of the main projects of the Moralintern.”





SUNDAY FRIEND: “It’s the central goal of any sound monetary policy. Maintaining ze price stabilitié is essential to maintaining high levels of economic activity, which is essential for maintaining high levels of employment… Which is essential for maintaining *ze social stabilitié*…”
KIM KITSURAGI: Basically it makes sure the price of bread doesn’t change.”
SUNDAY FRIEND: “*Précisément*! Too much inflation, bread becomes too expensive; too much deflation, it becomes too cheap for bakers to produce…”





SUNDAY FRIEND: “A sound monetary policy is *essential* for addressing *uncertainty*. Stability is the *raison d’être* of the Moralintern. It’s the reason why I identify as a moralist.”







KIM KITSURAGI: “Hmm, me? I… uh…”
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] You’ve managed to catch the lieutenant off guard, but only for a moment. He quickly recomposes himself.
KIM KITSURAGI: “I’m a lieutenant of the RCM, dedicated to maintaining law and order in Revachol.”
SUNDAY FRIEND: “A very moralist answer,” the man nods.





SUNDAY FRIEND: “Revachol is generally… difficult. It’s led by an interim government, which means it hasn’t yet achieved *full* democracy…”



KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant clears his throat. “Of course, the detective’s personal views do not represent the views of the RCM.”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Oh, yes, the big bad Coalition crushed the revolution. Tell me, if the revolution was succeeding, would it have been crushed so easily?”

“If you’re so smart, why did I punch you in the face?”

SUNDAY FRIEND: “Are we really so bad for wanting compromise, peace, and prosperity—on reasonable achievable terms? Ask yourself that.”

ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Man, fuck this dude.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “What’s there to say? Sur-la-Clef is a modern, urbanized country that measures very high on the Human Development and Freedom Index. Mostly, though, it’s known as the executive heart of *EPIS*… Moreover, it is a great sponsor of less-emerged countries. Revachol is only one of its darlings whose progress it supports and cherishes.”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Because a great percentage of Revachol’s culture hails from Sur-la-Clef—its language, its people, its cuisine even, or at least in the downtown La Delta area.”





SUNDAY FRIEND: “Oranje’s economy is one of the most advanced in the world. It has successfully transitioned from heavy industry to advanced services, and generally acts as an engine for sustainable change in the international community.”




SUNDAY FRIEND: “Oh, it’s very urban and very well-organized. Their streets are clean, their horsecars run on time, the people are polite and efficient. Like I said, they are an example for less-emerged nations to follow.”





SUNDAY FRIEND: “A *fugitive*? Well, I would say that is very bad, indeed. Not super.”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “That is *extremely serious*! Corporate espionage may technically be legal in *Revachol*, but elsewhere it’s a very high-level offense. It violates a number of international agreements, in particular the First La Cherte Accord… This fugitive must be turned over to the ICP immediately. Have you apprehended them already?”
KIM KITSURAGI: “A moment, if you don’t mind, sir.” The lieutenant pulls you aside. “You do realize what you’re doing, don’t you?” He whispers to you, *sotto voice*.
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] Of course, you’re turning over a dangerous LAWBREAKER.



KIM KITSURAGI: “*Very* real trouble… I won’t tell you how to do your job. But remember, this is an RCM matter. Make sure you weigh your next words carefully.”
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] He won’t tell you how to do your job, but a good officer knows when to listen to his partner.




Seems like a bit of a risk… let’s not.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Ah, that’s right. You did say this was all just a *hypothetical* scenario… Whew! For a moment there I was concerned that we had *quite* the situation on our hands…”
DRAMA: A bullet deftly dodged, sire.

ARIST: [Medium: Success] Man, what a putz.




SUNDAY FRIEND: “Well certainly one cannot rely simply on generalizations—that would go against our commitment to individual freedoms…”







SUNDAY FRIEND: The man gives the lieutenant a nervous look.
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant raises his eyebrows as though he’d stopped paying attention.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “Extremely distasteful behaviour. I cannot condone wither drug use or needless boasting…”




SUNDAY FRIEND: “They gave him a successful *career*.” The man holds up a finger as though he’s made a brilliant point.



SUNDAY FRIEND: “That is extremely unfortunate. Yes, it’s regrettable that this practice has a history in certain Occidental nations, even highly advanced members of EPIS…”







SUNDAY FRIEND: “As I said, the loss of any life is terrible, no matter who the person may have been…”






SUNDAY FRIEND: “EPIS is a very special program developed by the Moralintern to support certain Occidental nations. It began as a unified system of weights and measures, which proved to be a *wild* success. Nothing but kilograms and centimetres as far as the eye can see!”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] God, yes. Sweet standardization. The backbone of rationality—and commerce.







SUNDAY FRIEND: “It’s one day going to be a *candidate member* of EPIS, sure.”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “No, no, candidate members *do* become members, why do we even have the whole system in place if they don’t. It just takes time—time and evaluation.”











SUNDAY FRIEND: “Listen,” he says, raising his hand…



SUNDAY FRIEND: “No, *listen*,” he says again, looking outside…



SUNDAY FRIEND: “This place used to be a luxury accomodation, before the revolution. Apartments, of course, were much bigger then—a few walls have been added here and there, leaving some of the tenants without a a private bathroom or a kitchen…”



ARIST: [Easy: Success] Yeah, sounds like a real fair trade-off there.

SUNDAY FRIEND: “My friend comes and goes. I’m sure you’ll see him around, he’s a busy bee.”




SUNDAY FRIEND: “A moment, officer.”



SUNDAY FRIEND: “It’s against diplomatic best practices for an official in my position to be discussing murders with local militiamen.” He pauses. “And I’m pressed for time. After you leave, I should be leaving as well.”




ARIST: [Easy: Success] Well, that was… something. Let’s mosey, he’s going to get his neoliberal all over you.



ARIST: [Easy: Success] It’s finally, *finally* time for bed.




Bye, Kim!








SHIVERS: The room feels muffled, like you pulled your hat over your ears. Outside it is vold and windy, but you’re inside, and it feels safe and warm.



SHIVERS: Overhead you hear the forlorn shriek of seagulls. Far below the birds—a wooden boardwalk, filled with abandoned stands, tables and benches, echoes from a long lost time.



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…



How odd. Well, whatever!






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. Forget about Ostentatious Orchestrations. For Revachol—your city—that meant only one thing: Guillaume Le Million!
DRAMA: [Medium: Success] If it doesn’t rhyme, you’re not pronouncing it right.




ENCYCLOPEDIA: The click is used to spur on a horse. It also features heavily in Guillaume Le Million’s regional mega-hit “Don’t Worry (Your Pretty Little Head)”.












ARIST: [Medium: Success] You know, maybe you should shave. New mind, new you. Cast off the old self and all that.

WASHBASIN: The water reflect back a vague image of your face—nose bulbous and red, hair unkempt, wrinkles lining the eyes and forehead. The ‘stache is gigantic.







WASHBASIN: The water reflects back a vague image of your clean-shaven face. Despite the bulbous nose, unkempt hair and persistent swelling, you look… a little younger, maybe?
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] You almost look like a professional.




ARIST: [Easy: Success] You feel ready to face the world as a new man tomorrow, whatever the future may brin—



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH




ARIST: [Impossible: Failure] What just happened? You blacked out there for a second. You really need to get your shit together, man.