Conversation · Garte, the Cafeteria Manager

"Why did you have to kill him?"

"Do I have to answer him?" He asks the lieutenant. "Is this mandatory?"

The lieutenant stands motionless, his expression unreadable.

"Did he hurt you? Is that why? Did you get some kind of sick kick out of killing him?"

"What are you, an idiot?! I told you I haven't killed anyone!"

"Anyone? Have you killed someone else then?"

He ignores you.

More. Press on, push through...

"Did you kill Sylvie?"

"Fuck you, man."

"That's enough." You can't tell who the remark is aimed at, you or Garte.

A very silent wave comes from the lieutenant, like the distant echo of a drum-roll. It's approval.

"Okay. I believe you."

"Thank you ever so much."

"You have not entirely convinced me."

"That's a real pity." He stares angrily at you.

"Okay, I'm not gonna hound you on this."

"Isn't it a bit too late for that?"

"Before you said they hoisted him up on a tree. Who did you mean by they?"

"Oh." He's a bit surprised you caught that. "I meant the Union dockworkers. You know, the guys who everyone is saying killed him. Which no one is saying about me -- because I didn't."

"Who is this everyone?"

"The locals. Customers, the people who eat here. A lot of dockworkers eat here. Sylvie told me everyone knows the dockworkers did it."

"Did the Débardeurs themselves tell her this, or is it a rumour?"

"I don't really know. You'll have to ask her."

"Why would the dockworkers lynch this man?"

"I would suppose it's because they have nothing better to do."

"You mean the strike?"

"Yes, the strike," he makes little quotation marks with his fingers. "The man they hanged was a security guard for the harbour company, I hear -- a mercenary. The unionistas probably thought they'd send a message."

"Oh." He's a bit surprised you caught that. "People are saying it was the Union dockworkers. That it was a lynching."

"Who exactly is saying that?"

He doesn't know? He just said "they" hoisted him up on a tree -- who is this they?

"Are you the bartender?"

"No, I'm not the bartender. I'm the cafeteria manager."

He's very animated all of a sudden. This is clearly a touchy subject for him.

"You look like a bartender."

"That period of my life is over. Not everyone who stands behind a counter is a bartender, okay? I'm the cafeteria manager."

"What's the difference?"

"I have three cafeterias I manage. Three. Get over it."

"Understood."

"I hope it is."

"But you can still pour me a drink, right?"

"I could if I were a bartender. But I'm not, I'm the cafeteria manager. So I won't."

There may be some way to get a drink out of him (even for you) but this is not it.

"Where exactly is the body?"

"Behind this building, there's a courtyard." He points to the kitchen behind him. "They hoisted him up on a tree there."

"And how do we get there?"

"See that door there?" He points west, toward the pinball table. "Go out and turn right. There's a..." He pauses and sighs. "There's a big hole in the fence. No need for a key, just go through that hole and you'll be in the courtyard."

Are you supposed to feel guilty about the hole? His sigh tells you: yes.

"And how do we get there then?"

"That's easy! See that door there?" He points to the west. "First you exit through that. Then to your right you should see a big hole in the fence -- a really big one. You can get to the courtyard through there. No need for the keys. The hole is big enough for the Franconigerian cavalry to fit through."

This man means the heavy cavalry of Innocence Franconegro, sweeping over the plains and nations of the enemies of mankind, 5th Century style. Unified currency and the concept of cool came in their wake. They wore lamellar and carried guns. But first and foremost, Franconigerian heavy cavalry was really, really wide. That hole in the fence must be enormous.

Does he want you to feel guilty of making that hole? It's implied in his voice.

"No, I'm good." (Pass on the questions.)

The lieutenant nods at you affirmatively, then glances at the exit. "The body was behind the building, right -- how do we get there?"

"Mhm." He checks his little notebook. "I have everything. You?"

"Right then. Questions. I got this."

His face expresses profound doubt in your having this.

"Yes?"

"I have everything. You?" He looks in his little notebook.

"Who, me?"