Conversation · The Deserter

That's not the kill, that's running circles, sink your teeth in it for God's sake...

Wait -- so which one do I say then?

Nothing comes to you. Silence, his black eyes look at you.

And in them -- a chill, like electricity running up your spine. Crawling into your skull:

What?

ALL IS NOT AS IT SEEMS.

"Detective?" The lieutenant turns to you, with well disguised impatience.

Dammit, ask it already! -- he wants to say.

"Well?" The Cuno turns to you, with impatience.

Brush it off.

The feeling dissipates, the silence remains.

Be careful now, slow and steady does it. Make him repeat it first.

But what?

This is what you live for. This is the shit.

The great serotonin jackpot.

THE SOLUTION.

"You mean like... lately? After the War?

When? Before or after the war?

"And this has been during, or after the War?"

"You mean, like, during the war?"

"Why not?" He shakes his head and smiles, his teeth rotten black: "Class war is never over."

Here we go! A trail of blood.

Even the kid can smell it...

"Killing people? Like straight offin' them?"

You can smell it.

"You've done a lot of that?"

"Killing people?"

"Nice and honest..."

"Petty-bourgeois law..." He snorts and spits. "This is all you care about, right? The only thing in the world for you types..."

A drop of blood in the saliva...

Tear into him again. Pile it on him.

Lie! You have a witness.

That's right. Pile it all on him now. Three should do it, maybe four...

"I've used it for killing people."

No reply. His leg twitches.

Strangely... like a puppet on a string. There's something off, you feel it. This was the right question. You just...

You went in too fast. Over-eager.

You need to contextualize it for him first. Turn the key elsewhere -- the lock is here. It's here.

He sounds like he hasn't gotten to speak to another human being in a long time. Especially about politics. That's what you should do first.

Nothing comes up. You see the lieutenant watch you try to stimulate thought processes by hitting yourself.

He does not look worried -- yet. He has that do what you have to do expression, with a pinch of don't hit yourself again.

You need to punch yourself again!

Nothing comes up. Cuno watches you try to stimulate thought processes by hitting yourself.

He looks at you as if you're a malfunctioning machine, thinking: do what you do. Maybe even a pinch of hit yourself again?

Nothing comes up -- yet the old man watches you stimulate thoughts by hitting yourself.

"Officer, a word..." The lieutenant wants to talk to you on the side, as you slap yourself furiously.

"Yo, detective Dick, a word..." The boy gestures to the side as you slap yourself.

Ooh, that's the good stuff. THE MOTIVE! There you go, see, this works. DO THE MOTIVE. The pain has dislodged something in your soaked sponge of a brain...