Conversation · Pain Threshold

The spread pattern of these bullet holes makes your chest ache. Your breath grows heavier.

Another set of awfully old bullet holes.

Examine closer.

You peer into the faded marks in the stone... they peer back like an endless row of tiny black holes. Sweat starts trickling down your brow.

This is bad mojo, man! Fuckin' horrible mojo. The end draws near!

Your chest feels tight, looking at them. It's closing in... caving in, ever tighter. Your breathing grows even heavier.

"You okay there?" The lieutenant's sudden voice cuts like a blade, bringing you out of the stupor.

"Man, I started feeling really bad for a second."

"Might be the after-effects of your... past escapades. What are you looking at?"

(Breathe out sharply.) "Huh, yeah-yeah, I'm fine."

"You were looking pale there for a second. What are you looking at?"

"These bullet holes look like the bullet holes we saw before."

"Bullet holes generally look the same, so... probably." He leans in to inspect the wall. "But you are right, more old bullet holes from the Revolution."

"Figured as much." [Discard thought.]

"A history of violence streaking all across Revachol."

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...

"Man, how many people got shot during that Revolution?"

"Plenty."

[Discard thought.]

"Kim, look... more bullet holes. Someone has been shot here."

The lieutenant inspects the wall, then nods. "Another set of old bullet holes from the Revolution."

"What's with all these bullet holes? I've seen a lot of them around."

The lieutenant looks at the wall. "Remnants from the Revolution. These are over half a century old."

"So, no crime has happened here?"

"Perhaps a crime of a sort, ages ago... but no, these do not warrant an investigation."

"Okay. But what can you tell me about the Revolution?"

"Not much. I don't have a fresh perspective on it. Should we go?"

"Never mind, then. Let's go." [Discard thought.]

The lieutenant nods.

"Is there something we should do about these?"

"No, we're not constructors and renovators. And these bullet holes do not warrant an investigation."

More old bullet holes, half a century at least, from the Revolution.

More old bullet holes, at least half a century. A different era altogether.