Conversation · Visual Calculus

The cold sea breeze stings your face as you step on the boardwalk. The body is gone, but something still lingers in the air. And high above it, against the stars...

A luminous wheel of pleasure and all things bright, its wooden frame creaking in the wind. Twelve red cabins form a circle that stretches from the engines below to the flocks of seagulls up in the sky.

The mirage looks both sad and glorious in the mist, like an insect trapped in glass.

"What are you looking at?" The lieutenant follows your gaze, but finds nothing but the horizon.

This must be the pleasure wheel that Trant Heidelstam told you about.

(Whisper.) "It's the pleasure wheel..."

Up and down, up and down, all the way around...

Something sad and small wakes up in you... what is it trying to say?

Nothing! Nothing. We're just here to enjoy the pleasure wheel, aren't we?

Decay and death. There's the bench where you found the man. Even the pleasure wheel is rotting from inside.

This is about the man who died, isn't it? The sad alcoholic on the boardwalk...

What do you think happened to him? Do you think he was just trying to have fun -- or did he want out?

Rain, sleet and bouts of sun had marked his body when you found him, ready to break him down, like they broke down the little of what remained of the wheel after the landing.

The pleasure wheel stands still on the boardwalk, its twelve red cabins suspended in the air.

This is a huge misunderstanding, I'm a big fan of pleasure wheels! And pleasure in general.

Do you think that's what happened to the man you found? Do you think he was trying to just have fun?

I'm tired of the pleasure wheel. I want off.

Do you think that's what happened to the man you found? Do you think he wanted out?

(Whisper to Kim.) "It's the pleasure wheel..."

"The one that Mr. Heidelstam mentioned?" The lieutenant studies your face.

"Never mind, it's nothing. There's nothing."

"Mhmh." The lieutenant squints. "What is going on with you, detective?"

Decay and death. Staring into the cold hard kernel of things -- smooth like the acid in your stomach.

Nothing's going on with you, everything is perfectly fine. We're just here to look at the pleasure wheel!

Some sadness comes crashing over you like a bad dream.

"I'm just thinking about the pleasure wheel and how it has stopped bringing people any pleasure."

"Well, here's a secret -- I've never been on an amusement ride. There used to be one in Couron, a small one when I was a kid..." He stares right ahead, as if picturing the rickety wheel in a local marketplace, surrounded by kids.

"I was always too small to be allowed on board. The harness didn't work. And by the time I was finally tall enough, the wheel had fallen apart." He laughs and shakes his head. "But anyway..."

"We should get going. It's getting cold just standing here."

"I'm not sure what got you on this pleasure wheel kick, but I'm not going to ask any more about it."

"Do you think he enjoyed his last moments out here? Do you think he was having fun?"

"Mr. Méjean?" His gaze moves to the empty bench underneath the street lamp. It looks cold and uninviting, wet from the waves.

"Perhaps not fun, but I do think he was trying to make himself feel better, yes. In his own way."

To carve out a corner of the world where he could feel at peace -- for a moment.

"But I don't think standing here in the cold is doing you or me any good. Let's go. We've got a case to solve."

"The man we found?" He realises that neither of you knows his name. "Yes, I don't know... We didn't learn much about him, did we?"

"But all of us are trying to make it feel alright -- even if just for a moment. I don't think he came here to die." He stares at the empty bench, then shivers.

"It's getting cold just standing here. I wouldn't mind if we moved around again -- maybe even had a little run."

"I don't know. I don't know what's going on with me. Something's coming apart."

"Detective..." He puts his hand on your shoulder. "It's been a hard week. I don't think standing here for much longer is going to do either of us any good."

"We should get moving. Running gets the endorphines going, no?" He smiles at his own remark, then takes in the damp air.

"You don't see it?"

"See what?" The lieutenant looks around uncomfortably.

"The pleasure wheel... it used to take up the whole pier."

"The what now?" The lieutenant studies your face.

Study the cabins.

The little wooden gondolas dangle in the wind, their seats empty and floors littered with old ice cream papers and discarded tickets...

A seabird has made a nest in one of the cabins, but even this looks abandoned -- a remnant from a spring some fifty odd years ago.

The wind gets stronger the higher you go. On a good day you could see all the way to La Delta when you reached the top -- and the masts and sails of dozens of pleasure crafts.

Step back. [Leave.]

Some waves come crashing against the boardwalk, shattering the mirage.

Study the boardwalk.

There's a ticket office made out of an old gondola, its wooden frame the same shade of red as the ones above. A sign mounted on its side declares: "TWENTY CENTIMS FOR THE RIDE OF A LIFETIME!"

There are hustlers, addicts, rag-and-bone merchants -- even entire families if they're particularly destitute -- who've turned these cabins into huts and homes in the poorest parts of Revachol.

The cold sea breeze stings your face as you step on the boardwalk. The body is gone, but something still lingers in the air. And high above it, against the gray...