THE STATION GYM - The smell of body odour lingers outside like a bouncer blocking entry. A junior officer exits, sees you approaching, and transfers his blue Carry-All to his left hand so that he can snap a salute in passing.
YOU - Give him a warm and casual salute back.
AUTHORITY - *That's* how a lieutenant double-yefreitor does it — because you can.
YOU - Pause just inside the entrance to stretch out of habit.
THE STATION GYM - Tinny music pours from a radio, heavy metal hits a padded mat as a barbell is dropped to the floor, treadmills lining a wall of big industrial windows whine in chorus — but your partner is not one of the joggers.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - *Gymnasium*. I love that word. Just look at all those bodies getting cut, shredded, ripped, buff.
YOU - Look at the treadmills lining the big industrial windows.
AUTHORITY - Bodies of the law.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - Pounding imaginary pavements in hot pursuit of law-breakers …
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - The struggle is *real*, *physical*, unlike that shit in your head, son.
RHETORIC - Did Coach just call you a shithead?
INLAND EMPIRE - The coach has no authority over heads. *Everything* in your head *is* real. It's even realer than —
FEMALE OFFICER - "Ahem. Excuse me, sir …"
YOU - Look over your shoulder, realise you're blocking the entrance, and step aside for the female patrol officer.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - *Gymnasium*. Athletics. Boot camp. Cardio. Decathlon …
YOU - Wonder where your partner is as you watch the fit female patrol officer threading between the weight-lifting machines. You need to tell him about the new lead on those Ecole researchers, and about the ICP kidnapping Ant the Idealogue and Old Blonde.
EMPATHY - Don't you feel bad about that? You told Mrs Rupert that she and her son would be *safer* in custody at the station.
YOU - Because I believed it. But, yeah, I do feel bad.
PAIN THRESHOLD - Thanks for bringing it to my attention.
PERCEPTION - Look! That's Sergeant Mack "The Torso" Torson over on the bench-press, grunting with each pump of iron. He looks pained. Maybe he has seen Vic.?
YOU - Walk over. "Hey, Mack …"
MACK TORSON - Wears a black fishnet wife-beater and RCM track-pants — blue with white stripes on the sides. He lifts his bald head up off the bench to look at you. There's a puddle of sweat underneath on the padding, in the depression made by his skull. "Hey, hey, look who it is! Looking for your homo, homey?"
RHETORIC - My guess is that he finds the alliteration and onomatopoeia amusing and clever. But still, *homo*?
AUTHORITY - A glib remark. Don't let it stand. Assert yourself.
RHETORIC - It's because he can't say *looking for your bio, bi-ey*. Nobody can. You can't even spell it.
YOU - I just did.
INLAND EMPIRE [Trivial: Success] - No, you *thought* it. Who cares, anyway? Everybody knows, remember.
AUTHORITY - Assert yourself by confirming the fact.
YOU - "Yes. Yes, I am looking for my homo, homey."
MACK TORSON - Points, with his head and eyes, in the direction of the change rooms. "Boyfriend hit the showers, boss."
YOU - Raise an eyebrow.
RHETORIC - *Boyfriend*?!
AUTHORITY - Do *not* go along with this. Nail him to that bench with the truth.
INLAND EMPIRE - Yes. Astound him with more facts.
YOU - "Hate to correct you, Mack, but he's my *partner*." You flash a grin quick as a knife flicking open.
RHETORIC - That didn't sound like a fact; it sounded like a double entendre.
MACK TORSON - "Yeah," he laughs the word out.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - Where is the sergeant's *partner*?
YOU - Fiddle with the gold band on your ring finger. "Where's *your* homey, homes?"
MACK TORSON - Notices your ring. "Uh, you remember, Chester has that games workshop thing he likes to do," he says, sounding distracted. "Painting figurines and shit for battle on tabletops."
YOU - Snap your fingers and point at him. "I remember now."
DRAMA - Silver-tongued sire doth not remember that.
MACK TORSON - "Yeah, role-playing games." He shakes his head and smiles.
YOU - "Kim and I played Suzerainty once."
MACK TORSON - "Oh, yeah? Who won?"
YOU - "I'm not one to brag, but I *kicked his ass*."
MACK TORSON - Tosses his head back and laughs out loud.
PERCEPTION - You can see his tonsils.
MACK TORSON - Hooks the barbell onto its frame, and dusts off his hands. "Kitsuragi was at the garages yesterday," he nods in the direction of the big industrial windows.
YOU - "Yeah?"
INLAND EMPIRE - Speaking of the lieutenant, *was* his worry actually about Strike Force Pryce? Is it still …? It's on your To Do.
MACK TORSON - "Yeah, making his sweet Coupris Kineema all hot and sleek with shiny new hubcaps and a wax-job." He finger-fucks his fist and laughs, then adds with approval, "Total torque dork."
INLAND EMPIRE - I wonder whether they're the hubcaps that the lieutenant 'confiscated' from that rich kid?
REACTION SPEED - You sense the air stir behind you, molecules pushed aside by a much bigger body, as the sergeant looks over your shoulder.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Hey."
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Kiss him. Right here. In front of everyone. Show them he's your partner.
YOU - Are you crazy?!
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You should just do it. You *want* to do it — I can *feel* the *compulsion*, the *impulse*, in your glands. You should just *do it*. C'mon — let's dance.
YOU - Moisten your lips with your tongue, move your gaze from Jean's mouth up to his eyes, and smile faintly as you feel your heart flutter from anxiety and adrenaline. "Hey. Mack and I were just talking about Kim, and how I kicked his ass at Suzerainty. Good run?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Deadpans, "Short and sweet."
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Kiss him, I *dare* you. Grab the back of his head, and plant one on him *hard*.
INLAND EMPIRE - You feel weightless just thinking about it.
HALF LIGHT - You might faint!
AUTHORITY - In contrast, there is a weightiness about your partner, which prevents you from making the move. You know what it is? He has established dominance over you.
YOU - He has not.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Prove it.
AUTHORITY - Do it.
MACK TORSON - Huffs a laugh. "Yeah, it was a quickie all right." Looks back and forth from the gold ring on your finger to the silver ring on your partner's.
VISUAL CALCULUS - He's *detecting*.
MACK TORSON - "So, what have you two been up to?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Stares at the sergeant, but does not reply.
RHETORIC - Say something smart.
SAVOIR FAIRE - Say something evasive.
HALF LIGHT - Fuck him. Say nothing.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - *Answer* by *kissing* your *partner*.
SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - Just tell a half-truth.
YOU - "Trying to take time off but working anyway."
MACK TORSON - "Right?! Yeah, it's funny though, how none of us can keep away from the station."
YOU - Shrug. "It's home."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Gives you an odd look.
YOU - Draw in a deep breath, look at him. "So, I've got good news and bad news. Which would you like first?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Depends — how bad is it?"
YOU - "The ICP picked up our mother and son dynamic duo."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Are you fucking kidding?"
MACK TORSON - "Motherfuckers. Always getting us to do the dirty work."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Nods darkly. "They keep playing us like fucking fiddles."
YOU - "Yeah. We should go and speak to Pryce."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Good luck with that. The captain already left" — he points his goatee at the windows — "on his horse."
YOU - "Do you think they took them because of what Old Blonde claimed — what we discussed yesterday at yours?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Glances around, bites his lip, then waves away your question. "Let's not jump to sensationalist conclusions."
EMPATHY - He's worried.
YOU - "Yeah, okay, but I got a new lead …"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "A *new lead* in the lazareth? You were supposed to get a script."
MACK "THE TORSO" TORSON - Grins. "Not more trouble in paradise?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Looks at the sergeant. "Enough, Mack."
AUTHORITY - And The Torso shuts up. That's *dominance*.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - No, that's a sergeant following a direct order from a superior officer.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Turns back to you. "So did you get a script?"
YOU - Feel uncomfortable. "I got that too."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Relaxes visibly. "Okay. Good. Then we should …" He jerks his head at the exit, and makes a click-click noise with his tongue.
INLAND EMPIRE - Don't forget your Perseus Blacks. They would never leave *you* behind.
YOU - "We should stop by the dry-cleaner, pick up our uniforms on the way to the chemist."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Nods.
YOU - "Want some good news? Cuno got the job."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "*That's* your good news?"
MACK TORSON - "Who's Cuno?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Glances down at him. "Believe me, you don't want to know."
EMPATHY - It's just an act. He likes the kid.
YOU - "Cop material we adopted up in Martinaise."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Points at you: "*You* adopted."
MACK TORSON - Sniggers.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Let's get a move on."
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - The corridor outside the gymnasium is a motorway for officers …
SAVOIR FAIRE - So you shouldn't tell your partner about the Ecole researchers here, or about how you almost kissed him in front of Sergeant Torson and everyone else getting their workout on, throwing all appearances and caution to the wind.
AUTHORITY - Not to mention your professionalism, which Jean takes extremely seriously. Unlike some officers I could name.
YOU - I *do* take it seriously. You look at Jean striding beside you. "We need to talk."
PAIN THRESHOLD - Your chest feels like bursting from the weight of the words piled up in it.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Yes, I can see that, Harry. I can see that all over you." His attention is on the corridor, scanning both ways for approachers. "But wait till we get back home, okay?"
RHETORIC - Hold on, it's probably nothing, but when he says *home*, it's only because it's his home, right?
YOU - (Whisper.) "It's nice playing house."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Gives a distracted nod, but does not elaborate.
STATION 41 - Detectives Du Bois and Vicquemare rush down the stone steps, past a pair of officers standing guard on the bridge, and head towards the Central Jamrock steps exit.
YOU - Tap Jean on the side of the arm with the back of your hand, and then point in the direction of the stables and garages.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Follows the line of sight indicated by your finger.
YOU - "Mack says he saw Kim installing new hubcaps onto his Kineema yesterday. I know he confiscated a flashy set from a rich kid he pulled over — I bet they're the ones."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I really don't care."
YOU - "You don't like him much, do you?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Kitsuragi is a *great* cop."
YOU - "But you can respect someone without liking them."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Nods.
EMPATHY - It's complicated. It's because of Martinaise, not the lieutenant.
SUGGESTION - So don't push.
JEAN'S APARTMENT - Smells of sex, coffee, and cigarettes.
Jean dumps his keys into the ashtray below the wall mirror.
You both get comfortable, removing your shoes, and leaving your sidearms and badges on the table.
ENDURANCE - You feel lighter.
INLAND EMPIRE - A great weight lifted, a moment of respite. Power and its responsibilities, holstered.
AUTHORITY - Real power — not the material kind that cuts off willy nilly leaving you in the dark.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "What's on your mind?"
INLAND EMPIRE - Reflecting on reflections …
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - Reality un-blurs as your vision turns from the inside out, and you see your reflection staring at you in the mirror, striking a weight-bearing pose.
Your index finger hooked around the coat-hanger of your dry-cleaned uniform, your shoulder supporting your hand, you bear the weight of your Perseus Black on your back.
AUTHORITY - You don't bear it; you wear it, lieutenant double-yefreitor Du Bois.
VOLITION - You wear it well.
AUTHORITY - Though you would wear it even well-er with a shave.
YOU - It's my time off.
LOGIC - Inference from particular instances in the past suggests that your time off is usually your off time.
YOU - Blink, and focus your eyes on the black-haired, grey-eyed man standing behind you in the mirror, a guardian against the furies. Turning to face him, you say, "Just reflecting on reflections."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Stares at you. Draws a breath to speak: "Any I should know about?"
SUGGESTION - Tell him about your new lead, the Ecole research …
INLAND EMPIRE - … on entroponetics.
YOU - "Only my new lead — the one I mentioned earlier. Am I allowed to talk about that now?"
EMPATHY - Was that saucy question necessary, I ask you? Jean is practising sensitivity.
YOU - Oh, not the sensitivity training again.
EMPATHY - I'm afraid so.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Gives you a look, quirking a sarcastic eyebrow, as he unhooks the coat-hanger off your finger onto his, relieving you of the burden of your dry-cleaned uniform.
YOU - Watch him cross the shadowy apartment to the wardrobe in the corner. He opens the creaking doors wide, and hangs your uniform on one door, and his own on the other.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Turns towards you. "*Well?*"
YOU - Walk over to him, gesticulating as you explain: "Some scholars at the Ecole were researching entroponetics. But they were gagged recently by the ICP. I think that we should pay them a visit."
SAVOIR FAIRE - Undercover.
YOU - "We should go *plainclothes*."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "*Plainclothes*. Undercover. Of course. I didn't see *that* one coming *at all*. By the way, where did you come across this information?"
YOU - "Article in the Périphérique."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "The mystery newspaper. Are you fucking kidding me?"
YOU - "C'mon, Jean. If it's nothing, then at least we'll know. It could even be connected to the case. Somehow."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "It's *not* connected to the case. Not even *somehow*." He wags a finger at you. "It's an article in the Périphérique —"
YOU - Put your hands up. "Okay, fine, it's not connected to the case. But it might be connected to me — somehow."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Unleashes a sigh of deepest exhaustion, then turns his head to stare through the window, thinking. "You know why this apartment is, like, *infinitely* better than your fire-trap?"
DRAMA - Play along, my liege.
YOU - Walk into the kitchenette. "Pretty sure you're about to tell me, Vic."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "No, I'm about to show you."
INTERFACING - He takes hold of the cord at the side of the window, and gives it a jerk, drawing the blinds riiight up.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - Daylight splits the room, shining all over your partner, the desk, the bed.
YOU - Squint a little as your pupils contract. Then try to blink away the window-sized blue square floating in front of wherever you look, but it's branded on your retinas. "So, the Ecole …?"
RHETORIC - Do *not* call it a side-case.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Stares at you, but does not answer.
YOU - "*Jean*."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Rubs his forehead, winces. "Okay, okay. But I want to read that article first — we need to know as much as possible, and we need to be discreet about it."
YOU - Sigh in relief. Then give a quick smile because …
SAVOIR FAIRE - … *he* said you'll need to be *discreet*.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "What? What is it now? Oh, God, it's the fucking undercover thing again, isn't it?"
YOU - Smirk.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "We're going to the library," he says flatly.
SAVOIR FAIRE - You can still go undercover.
INTERFACING - You pour a glass of water for yourself, place it on the table. Fish the slim cardboard packet of happy pills out of your pocket. Pull out the closure flap, and shake the first blister pack.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - What happens if you take *more* than your prescribed dose?
LOGIC - You overdose.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - You see him studying you again as you prepare to pop one of the foil blisters.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Hold up, Harry."
YOU - Stand there, in medias res …
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Perhaps you should wait till after the raid …?"
YOU - Smirk and shake your head as you look down and pop a blister.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Yeah, yeah. At this point *any* pill popping is a wet dream.
YOU - "Vic, it's *me*."
EMPATHY - Exactly what he's afraid of.
YOU - "You know, the recovering druggie, recovering alcoholic, recovering asshole …"
VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] - …
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Strides over to where you're standing.
YOU - Examine his expression as he nears, and feel your own face mirroring its intense seriousness.
INLAND EMPIRE - You feel strange.
YOU - "You know, I almost kissed you today in front of Mack and everyone." You pinch out a little pill, and lift it to your mouth. "Funny, right?" Then you stick it onto your soft wet tongue, and wash it down with the water.
PERCEPTION - On the first gulp, the pill sticks somewhere in your throat. The second gulp dislodges it, and the third does the trick.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - And, and, *and* … No effect. Nothing is happening. *Wow*.
VOLITION - It takes time. You know that. All good things do.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Yeah, hilarious. Very professional, too." He pauses, pondering. "But, you know, it makes sense. You used to be a gym teacher, so maybe you, like, feel at home in the gymnasium."
INLAND EMPIRE - A shrill whistle. The sound of sneakers skidding on parquet. The smell of deodorant and sweat. Fragments. That is all.
CONCEPTUALIZATION - I see what he did there, and I like it! Why didn't we think of that? Go on, be more intelligent.
VOLITION - You're the sensitive one, remember?
PERCEPTION - Jean moves closer. You feel him exhale slowly. He is so close you can study the stromal architecture of his irises, the darker grey encircling them, the paler gradations and radiations towards the pupils, the deep black of them reflecting the window light.
RHETORIC - Hey, remember when he said to wait till you get *home*? He meant *here*.
SUGGESTION - Yes, try to suss that out again.
YOU - "Maybe, partner, but it's nicer playing house *here*. It's been nice, hasn't it?'
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Leans in with that utter seriousness, as though what he is doing serves a purpose.
DRAMA - Oh, it does, my liege, of that we are certain. 'Tis deliberate. But thy partner's drama is so much loftier than ours. We are not worthy!
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Drags his stare slowly to your lips.
INTERFACING - You feel his fingertips on your face, a rough-gentle stroke of his thumb as he presses it to a water droplet clinging to your upper lip, and smears it across your mouth.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You felt that touch in your blood. Your blood is singing karaoke! This is *disco*, Harry, and it's hot as fuck under the spinning mirror ball.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Lets his thumb linger at the corner of your lips, his fingertips light on your jaw, and slowly kisses you.
INLAND EMPIRE - So slowly he slows time.
INTERFACING - Fuck time. There is no time. You wrap your hands around his head, and push in, sucking on his mouth, swallowing his familiar flavour.
PERCEPTION - Chemical chocolate tobacco and black coffee. Salt on his thumb.
And Jean.
Just Jean.
INLAND EMPIRE - But you can still feel an imprint of the pill you swallowed, as if it's stuck to your oesophagus, even though it's swishing around in your stomach acid now — little goblet cells toasting your accomplishment.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Pulls back, his lips glistening and full of blood, his thumbs tracing your clavicles through your clothes.
"I don't *play* house," he says, sounding breathless.
PAIN THRESHOLD - Ouch?
REACTION SPEED - Quick. Damage control!
YOU - "Oh." You blink, nervously lick your lips. "I didn't mean …"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I don't *play* house, but you can always, like, *stay* — if it's *nice*."
REACTION SPEED - OH MY GOD, HARRY.
RHETORIC - He means *move in*!
YOU - "…"
SUGGESTION - You need to respond to his *monumental* statement.
RHETORIC - Say something. Speak. What the fuck is this, sudden selective mutism?
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Raises his eyebrows sarcastically. "And you say …?"
VOLITION - *Yes*.
YOU - "If I understand you correctly, I would need to move my shit here."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Nods sarcastically.
INLAND EMPIRE - This feels unreal. Literally unreal.
YOU - "Sure you don't mind?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I don't mind you moving out of that fire-trap. I don't mind you not having to pay rent for it. So I don't mind you moving your shit here." He lifts his index finger. "On the condition that our ten-month agreement still applies. Your promise isn't suddenly null and void. Okay?"
YOU - (Just nod.)
EMPATHY - It's shock. The good kind.
VOLITION - It's okay. It will be easier to accomplish the *ten-month* thing now.
HALF LIGHT - Huh. Easier for him to keep an eye on you, you mean.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Easier for you to *party* more.
VOLITION - Everything will be easier. Easier, and better. For both of you.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Good. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot harder …"
YOU - "Wait. We're not just doing this so that you can keep an eye on me, are we?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Stares at you for a long moment. "That's … *exactly* right. How could you tell?" Then turns on his heel, and walks out of the kitchenette while slowly shaking his head, before vanishing into the hallway. Out of sight, you hear him add, "Let's go and grab some lunch. I'm fucking starving."
YOU - There's something you're not really getting here. Try to work out what it is. "Hold on." You look at the wall as though you can see him through it. "Is this why you've been moody all day?"
EMPATHY - He's a patient man, he really is. But are you *trying* to annoy him?
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "No," he says calmly, without elaborating.
YOU - No, I'm trying to *help* him.
SUGGESTION - So, help him, then. Now is your chance to ask about the upcoming joint-precinct raid, the *les petits rats* …
YOU - Catch up to Jean in the shadowy little hallway, rest your hand on his shoulder from behind.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Turns to face you, his eyes glittering with indirect sunlight from the window.
YOU - "Is it because of the raid? I mean, we'll probably find more *les petits rats* …"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Thank you for reminding me, Harry." He stoops to slap dust and dirt off his perfectly clean black shoes, then pulls them on.
YOU - "…"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Straightens, draws a quick breath, flicks his hair out of his eyes. "I don't even know … It's not that … It's just that … " He bites his lip, then swats away your question.
EMPATHY - This is the depression being indecisive and inconsistent — not him.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "How's your ass, by the way?"
RHETORIC - He's trying to change the subject.
YOU - Take his hand. "This sounds like the depression talking, not you."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Looks behind you to the windowlight on the opposite end of the apartment. "Maybe you're right." He turns suddenly, scrapes his keys out of the ashtray. "Or *maybe* I just need to eat …"
DRAMA - [Legendary: Failure] …
AUTHORITY - You didn't answer his question.
YOU - Whose side are you on?
EMPATHY - This isn't a power play. You're genuinely more concerned with his needs than yours. Well done, Harry!
THE LEDGER - After lunch, you and your partner JV go on an excursion to the Central Jamrock Public Library, where you nonchalantly read the rest of the *Périphérique* article you chased into the gutter, and JV gets the full story. Your partner likes collecting facts, and it is a fact that the section of shelf reserved for *material related to your side-quest* is lacking in factual content. Why is this a fact?
YOU - Because mystery magazines aren't credible, because there's nothing credible here, and a nothing is an obvious something.
THE LEDGER - Exactly, which your partner is quick to point out, in a mutter under his breath, before suggesting you head back to the station.
INLAND EMPIRE - Because he's remembered an old case that might be relevant, and wants to see whether the report is still intact.
THE LEDGER - Inspect some files. Just regular old police work.
PRECINCT 41, C-WING, FILE ROOM - A patrol officer exits, carrying a stack of files, and Detective Du Bois positions himself in the doorway as Detective Vicquemare crouches beside an open filing cabinet. Hunched over a metal drawer, Vicquemare fingers quickly through some folders labelled with case names and numbers.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Pulls out a grey folder, looks up at you. "Here it is." Standing back up, he flips through the folder, then stops at a page covered thickly with black redactions. An ICP stamp explains its fate. "I was right," he says. "See — just as I said."
YOU - Take the file, and examine what remains of the typewritten text between the censorship. "I'm surprised they didn't just lift the whole report."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Yeah, so professional of them to let us keep some of our own records. Anyway, I'll man the door …"
YOU - "Is this how our report is going to look?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Probably."
INLAND EMPIRE - Desolation. Apathy creeps up on you from behind …
YOU - "Why even bother with all the paperwork then."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Why bother at all. Let's just give up, go to the coast, smoke cigarettes and drink coffee on the beach while watching the waves roll in and out."
RHETORIC - Sarcasm.
EMPATHY - There's some longing there, too — the little details give it away — buried, deep, deep, *deep* down.
YOU - "Sounds nice, Vic."
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - As Jean bars entry into the cramped file room, you scan what remains of someone else's typed-up report, the final draft of their ledger labours.
INLAND EMPURE - So much work for nothing.
REPORT - [redacted] complains that her son [redacted] is not the same since their aerostatic to [redacted] motion went scalar for [redacted] — "living with him feels like living with a stranger".
According to [redacted], the airship spent [redacted] in the [redacted] than is recommended for interisolary travel to Graad; however, both she and her son have travel permits that allow [redacted] of exposure per year, so the RCM has no grounds upon which to [redacted] wants the RCM to [redacted]
[redacted] the ICP, and close this case.
[redacted] NG suggests we recommend [redacted] psychologists in Vredefort — the Oranjese capital — for evaluation and/or treatment, though he thinks they'll proclaim the boy "*vollkommen normal*", [redacted].
[redacted]
INLAND EMPIRE - Imagine the Ruperts. If you fill in the redacted bits with the details provided by Old Blonde, it could fit. How perfect, how poetic.
YOU - Look up from the report to Jean.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - concentrates on the corridor outside.
YOU - proclaim: "It's *them*." (The Ruperts.)
INLAND EMPIRE - I said *imagine*. Gottlieb would have said *something* today if it was them.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "It's *not* them." He twists around, lifting his index finger. "They're from across the river. Similar is not the same, Harry."
INLAND EMPIRE - Then again, Gottlieb recommended Vredefort — how could a West Revacholian mother and son afford that trip?
YOU - "Gottlieb recommended Oranje — expensive treatment."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "That's just Gottlieb being himself. It's *not* them, but it's something; and we need something to justify the fucking Ecole …"
INLAND EMPIRE - A feeling of warmth fills you as you look into his eyes.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Maintains unblinking eye contact as he shifts his weight to lean a shoulder against the doorjamb, and crosses his arms. "Goddamnit, Harry …" After a moment, he mutters, "Let's go home."
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - Is it just me, or is he a little warm in the face?
INLAND EMPIRE - He's as moved as you are by that prolonged eye contact, by the warmth he saw in you.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Are you thinking what I'm thinking? This cozy file room, where the temperature has increased, has the potential to be a disco for two, baby.
YOU - Lean in, whisper, "I wanna suck you off — right here, right now."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - His eyes flash. He looks out into the corridor, then turns back to face you.
PERCEPTION - Slipping his right arm out of his badass arm-fold, he pushes down on your head with his hand.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Go on, then. Get down there."
RHETORIC - Piercing sarcasm.
YOU - Huff a laugh, and duck out of his hold.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - He rubs his facial hair. "Unfortunately, we're police officers in a police station. Doing police *work*." He meets your gaze again, his eye-shine sharp in the harsh light, and blinks aggressively. "Be professional."
DRAMA - He's not angry — whatever he is, it's too strong for him to even pull off anger right now.
EMPATHY - The anger is an act he's doing his best to actually feel. Don't let him.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "And I'm not a fucking replacement for your addictions. Or am I?"
REACTION SPEED - Of course not!
PAIN THRESHOLD - Oh, God, Harry. He's hurt.
YOU - "Of course not! Jean …" You swallow.
EMPATHY - He wants to believe you, he needs to …
SUGGESTION - Say something *good*. Tell him what he *is*.
YOU - "You're my volition, not my compulsion. You're everything good in Elysium, concentrated. You're sunshine, and —"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Holds a halting hand out. "Okay, *okay*. I get it. Understood." He clears his throat, looks around.
INTERFACING - Takes the forgotten folder out of your hands, and refiles it.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Let's go, all right?"
AUTHORITY - Don't *you* have any questions?
YOU - "Wait. I've got questions for you."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "About *what*?"
SUGGESTION - Is *this* why he's been moody all day?
INLAND EMPIRE - Because of how you tested your pain threshold last night while …
PAIN THRESHOLD - It felt *great* last night. Not so great this morning.
INLAND EMPIRE - Exactly. The look on his face this morning, when he noticed, when he realised …
YOU - "Is this what's been eating you all day?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Does not reply.
YOU - "I'll take that as confirmation."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Guilty as charged. Now come on —"
YOU - "One more question."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "…"
YOU - "What am I?"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "What *are* you?"
YOU - "Don't fuck around. You know what I mean."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Inspects you. "Know what you are?"
INLAND EMPIRE - The Man with Sunglasses inspects you. *You know what you look like?*
HALF LIGHT - A sudden feeling of apprehension sinks into the pit of your stomach. Some questions are better left unspoken.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Shrugs. "Everything. You're everything. Now let's go." He marches out of the file room without looking back.
PERCEPTION (HEARING) - You hear his footfalls receding, hear him call out, "We still have that motherfucking rendezvous to look forward to tonight."
CONCEPTUALIZATION - *Everything* is a double-edged sword. You're his sunlight, and his night. That's what he means.
INLAND EMPIRE - But the night is always darkest before dawn — Lieutenant Kitsuragi would agree.
PAIN THRESHOLD - Poignant. You feel good and bad simultaneously. Isn't it great to be this kind of animal?
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - I keep saying so.
YOU - Catch up to your partner in the corridor. "You're right. We're all everything — double-edged. When I said sunlight, I was —"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "*Harry*." He glances askance at you without breaking his stride. "You were being Harry. Now *please* shut up about it, okay, or do I need to hire a violinist?"
YOU - Smile a little at that.
THE LEDGER - So, anyway, back to the main quest. Just before leaving the station for the second time today, you find out that the fifty-seventh has reached an agreement with the forty-first, so the joint precinct raid is on.
Meantime, Captain PP is still fuming about Old Blonde and her son, but that part of the case is out of your hands now. You inform the captain about the scrawny young Free-Hug-Giver — a Skull and an alleged *public event organizer and manager* — and at 19:30, you and JV make your way on horseback to *La Guêpe Rouge* coffeehouse for your rendezvous.
BOOGIE STREET - Although the sodium lights still burn a halo into the night sky over Central Jamrock, the shopfronts crowding one another are not so lively tonight. *La Guêpe Rouge*, predictably, is bathed in a blue light that seeps out under its red awning, where a section of wall older than the war Revachol lost has been preserved behind a sheet of perspex. Behind someone's initials and a heart shape scratched into the plastic, you can still see the bullet holes lodged into the stone.
VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - 4.46mm.
YOU - Feel a chill crawl over your skin, under your clothes, in the blue glow.
PERCEPTION - Jean squeezes his hand over your shoulder briefly but firmly.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Okay?" he says, gesturing you into the Guêpe.
LA GUÊPE ROUGE - A couple of plain-clothed RCM detectives saunters in. The buff one wears a black suit and tie over a white shirt. His sturdy partner is more dressy casual in jeans. Both are armed. The air is humid, and a radio plays the nightly news: "… a day of organised protests across Jamrock, poking holes in an already riddled …"
YOU - Mentally tune out the radio, look around.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - In a doorway to the back alley, an old barista on a ciggie break leans out, talking to a hobo. In a booth, a man and a woman exchange solemn words, then gaze into their cups as if seeing a bleak future reflected in the black mirrors of coffee there.
INLAND EMPIRE - A future where all will die — the barista, the woman and man, the hobo in the alley, the cat searching for scraps as it saunters past — if you fail to prevent Le Retour this year.
HALF LIGHT - So, no pressure, Harry.
THE LEDGER - You and JV commandeer a table in a back corner, then he leaves to order coffees.
HALF LIGHT - Back to the wall, eyes on the entrance.
VOLITION - Relax. Jean chose this place, remember.
YOU - Roll your shoulders, stretch a little in your seat, try to relax.
PERCEPTION - Pilot lights hiss softly all around, making the red walls flicker like dim flames. A lingering odour of decomposition wafts in from the back alley, mixing with the tobacco smoke and warm earthy coffee. The barista hands the remains of his ciggie to the hobo, a ritual between them, then heads back to his steaming and gleaming machine. Jean returns, carrying an oblong of wood with a number engraved into it, his shirt glowing in and out of the pilot lights.
YOU - Breathe it all in. Breathe it all out. The city.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Takes a seat beside you. "They've run out of everything on the board except the shit that no one ever orders, so they're using that shit for everything now. Fuck it."
PERCEPTION - You feel the force of him suddenly giving you his full attention.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Everything okay, partner?"
YOU - Nod. "Just thinking."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I can see that. About what?"
YOU - "How we need to save everyone."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Light thoughts, then. Excellent."
YOU - "If we don't prevent Le Retour, everything will die."
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Nods. "Not Apocalypse Cop thoughts at all. Glad I asked." He lights a cigarette, looks grimly at the blue entrance.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Go on, join in on the fun. No more blah blah. Just light one up.
YOU - Fish a cheap plastic lighter, and your crumpled Astra Menthols, out of a jeans pocket. The packet weighs light in your hand — there's only one lonely cigarette inside. You clamp that lonely bad boy between your lips, and drag him out, dip him into the heart of the flame, and suck.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Warm dense smoke fills your lungs. Your mouth feels icy and fresh. Immediately, the world is a cooler place. You can feel it in your body, your mind, your *soul*.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Blows a sheet of smoke out between his pursed lips, and looks at you. "You're right."
YOU - "…"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Soon we'll find out if Pryce is right, too. If we can stop Le Retour with *words*. It doesn't *feel* like he's right — but I hope he is."
THE LEDGER - At 19:55, the scrawny young Skull walks into the coffeehouse together with a woman in her twenties. You've seen her before, too, at the Quarter.
