Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

Silence. The wind blows.

"See -- no one cares."

"I don't even know which jacket he's talking about. There have been... many things that he's found. He gets meticulous. But it's okay."

"I also looked into the mystery of the Doomed Commercial Area."

He shrugs. "I don't know what a 'Doomed Commercial Area' is."

"The curse turned out to be possibly entroponetical. Part of my larger investigation -- into Martinaise itself."

"No, it didn't -- it didn't turn out to be entroponetical again. Enough with the isolary-pale two-millimetre-hole-in-the-world line. This isn't Paradox B. We're a police force."

Paradox B is a fringe science magazine published in Graad. Its mission is to explain theories like telekinesis and intraisolary pale, before they get out of hand.

It doesn't look like the lieutenant wishes you to push this angle further.

'Cut it out' is indeed what he is thinking.

"What were you even doing in some commercial area? Your job was to solve a murder, not Martinaise."

Damn, now it sounds like you were just wasting time.

"This pig helps people, okay? He's a fuckin' handy helper, he does that shit. He finds insects and solves side-shit. It's his style. Side-style."

"Jean -- it is his style."

It's definitely your style to solve side-shit.

"Jean -- it's his style. He does side cases. I'm sure it was important enough. Call it community outreach."

"It's not what he was sent here to do. He was sent here to solve a murder -- not look into commercial areas."

Damn, now it sounds like you were just wasting time.

"I'm 100% sure it didn't turn out to be that. You know, cut the amateur entroponetic two-millimetre-hole shit -- this isn't Paradox B. We're a police force."

"No, it didn't -- it didn't turn out to be entroponetical again. Enough with two millimetre holes and the giant bugs -- this isn't Paradox B. We're a police force."

"Yeah, I'm not going to waste more time with this -- whatever it was, it wasn't entroponetical, or a giant bug. Cut the Paradox B shit, we're a police force."

"Nothing. It's not important."

"Yeah, honestly -- it doesn't sound too important. Since it's not connected to the case -- or a giant living organism."

"It's not what you were sent to do here."

"Rue de Saint-Ghislaine 10. A commercial building where all businesses go bankrupt. I looked into it."

"Why? That's not what you were supposed to do here."

"There was a fridge we needed. And a possible witness. He was just chasing a lead and ended up advising a local shopkeeper -- it was okay."

"Of course." She turns to Vicquemare. "Call it community outreach, right?"

Dodged the bullet there. For a moment it seemed like you were just wasting time.

"There was a possible witness in there. And it was close to the crime scene. He was just chasing a lead and ended up advising a local shopkeeper -- it was okay."

"Khm... I also started a night club. In the church."

"Actually -- you didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I told them a police raid will sweep the church in two days. Which, by the way -- it will. If they have any brains they won't be producing in there."

"Wait -- when did you do this?"

"When you were out."

"Uhm... Okay then."

"Yes -- it's very okay."

"Wait -- he tried to set up a drug lab?"

"No. He just let some youths set up a club in the church. They thought they could produce in there. They won't. The building was abandoned. It was an okay idea -- better than having them out on the ice."

He's really softening it up there.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a police detective. And manufacturing drugs is illegal."

"What?" He cups his ear -- the wind blows. "It sounded like you set up a drug lab!"

"Yeah, and the club is called Disco Elysium."

"I don't care what your drug lab is called..." He calms himself. "Fuck it. You're done as a cop -- become a polonium dealer for all I care."

"Stop squealing on yourself. Cuno needs to get out of this shithole." He turns to Vicquemare. "Pig's talking whack to impress you. It didn't go down like that. He done good. Tell them!"

You know -- it might have been a bad idea to tell him that. Unless you want to be a drug baron and not a cop, of course...

Hmm...

"Yeah. And a night club. In the church. It was a huge operation to set it up."

"Fuck it. Fine. I don't care. Your life as a cop is over -- become a polonium dealer for all I care."

"I didn't. It's the wind. You misheard."

"It wasn't the fucking wind! You said you started a drug lab." He takes a moment to collect himself. "Fine. I don't care. You're done as a cop -- become a polonium dealer for all I care."

"What was that?" He cups his ear -- the wind blows. "It sounded like you set up a night club in the church."

"Yeah, I reinvigorated the local nightlife."

"Four kids were living in a tent on the ice. They were going to drown when it melted. It's not optimal, but the building was abandoned. So he put them in there. It's okay."

It's not that okay. Get off this subject. Now.

"Yeah! And I discovered a hitherto unexplored entroponetical phenomenon in there too -- a two-millimetre hole in the world."

"Get a grip. No one cares about your entroponetic adventures right now."

"That's great! Entroponaut is a great new career for you -- after police officer. I don't care. Go live in the pale."