Conversation · The Hanged Man

As if someone left out most of the night sky, filtering it through personal choice. The principle of this filter remains unknown to you. The thought dissipates and you feel as though you were only half-right.

"Is this a micro-electronic system?"

"I have only a cursive knowledge of the science of cybernetics -- I would not know if it were. But it's not quite complex enough, is it?"

It doesn't seem familiar from the insides of any radiocomputer your mind can imagine. The somewhat organic lines remind you of old filament memory units, but not quite? No. You're nowhere near right.

It will be marked by bullet holes.

Inspect the belt.

The hangman's knot is pulled tight by the weight of the corpse below. Yellow, hard-edged polyester cuts into his neck. Above, a sliding buckle ties the belt to the branch.

This is a steel-reinforced cargo lashing belt, big brother of the regular cargo belt. It's used for tying cargo under six-rotor airships.

Oh my, there's something on the belt... a familiar word that speaks to the thirst within you.

Ignore it.

It's hard, but somehow you manage not to see it. The corpse looks at you sideways, from an unnatural angle.

"Don't ask me how I know -- but this is a lashing belt used for airlifting cargo."

"Airlifting? I thought it was used on lorries -- for strapping cargo to them."

"Apparently this is the reinforced kind. For air transport. My brain tells me so."

He nods. "The local harbour uses six-rotors to shuffle containers around. I get the sense they used whatever was on hand, without paying much attention to not incriminating themselves."

"By they do you mean the Hardie boys?"

He nods. "Right now everything seems to fit their confession."

(Back off and look at the corpse.)

The cadaver hangs from the cargo belt --limbs limp and torso covered in tattoos.

"How did they even get him up there?"

"A noose is one of those things that's easier to use one way around..." He points to the buckle tying the belt to the branch above.

"Did they climb up using the kids' ladder?" (Point to the one at the side of the tree.)

"That ladder can't carry a grown man. I didn't see any splintering either, did you? I think they lassoed the branch, then pulled on the belt to close the buckle..." He makes a pulling motion.

Could be. The shape of the branch supports the theory.

"I think they lassoed the branch, then pulled on the belt -- buckle closes." He makes a pulling motion. "It's what I would do. Seems easier than climbing up there."

"We're assuming dockworkers from the harbour did it?"

"Yes." He agrees. "The debrief we got from the Wild Pines representative appears to be solid too. A lynching is what this looks like."

"Yes." He agrees. "The debrief we got from the Wild Pines representative appears to be solid too. A lynching is what this looks like. Our internal RCM brief said the same..." He looks at you.

"By the way, when you get the chance -- perhaps you should ask me to share the RCM brief you. I'm pretty sure you've forgotten it."

"They sure wanted him to stay there. The polyester seems strong."

"I was afraid it would be..." He rises to inspect the noose. "Thin steel wiring, parallel strands. This makes getting him down more problematic than I had assumed..."

"It's not merely polyester -- it's steel reinforced." He rises to inspect the noose. "See these lines? This is where the wires run. I see rabbets for more than twenty strands."

"This makes getting him down much more problematic than I had assumed..."

"We're assuming dockworkers from the harbour did it?"

"I'm still approaching this as a lynching, yes. Motivated by the ongoing strike." He politely raises an eyebrow: "You?"

No. You feel like it was something else -- but what?

"Don't ask me, I'm just lumbering from one moment to the next."

"We all are." He covers his nose. "This belt worries me."

"I feel like it was something else."

"Yes." He covers his nose. "It often is. This belt worries me."

"Makes sense. Believably mundane."

"Seventy percent of the cases I get are just filling in the blanks on the initial report." He covers his nose. "This belt worries me."

"The brief suggested as much. Politically motivated by the ongoing strike... did you not get a briefing?"

"My past has undergone total annihilation. Nothing remains -- my mother, the love of my life. Certainly not a briefing."

"Okay." He blinks. "You should ask me for one the first moment we get."

"No. They might have forgotten to brief me."

"Then you should ask me the first moment we get."

"Uhm, yeah."

"Then again what do I know? I don't even know what an airship is!"

"No, you're right. The harbour uses six-rotors to shuffle containers around. They used whatever was on hand here. Without paying attention to not incriminating themselves."

"What kind of rope is this?"

"Industrial strength. The kind used for tying cargo to lorries."

Like in a circus! When the circus leaves town and they tie a black spotted giraffe to the wall of a carry-pen!

"Like in a circus, for transporting black spotted giraffes?"

"Uhm..." He considers it: "No. More like in a harbour. Like the one just east of here. I get the sense they used whatever was on hand, without paying much attention to not incriminating themselves."

"Like in a harbour?"

"Yes. It looks like they used whatever was on hand, paying no attention to not incriminating themselves."

"In a... I can't come up with anything other than a harbour."

What was that? A word?

VERMILLION, in yellow letters along the length of the twisting cargo belt. Only a deep longing for Vermillion Golden Spirits lets you decipher the fading logo of the local brewery.