Conversation · Paledriver

"Nothing. No need to be direct."

"Some jamboree you turned out to be... You have about a third of the jawline of Gabriel Buenguerro, and none of the balls." She smiles.

What are you doing? This woman might be your only chance to figure out how to reverse time... Grow a pair!

"Thank you for now." [Leave.]

"Yes -- go. Enough jamboree. I need to get back to Mesque..." Her voice trails off.

"Show me the soles of your boots."

"Now what do you want with an old woman's boots, xerife?"

"It's for important police business, ma'am."

She raises her boot, slowly -- with contempt -- and says. "I'm starting to think you should let me get back to Gabriel Buenguerro. You're no Gabriel..."

She's wearing sturdy worker's boots made of black leather. Buckles run across. The sole is also made of leather.

"Now the other one please."

"Just before Gabriel it was the coronation of Franconegro -- now there was a real man..." There is no aberration in the pattern that you can see. She puts her foot down.

Moreover, the boots were size 37. Tiny. There are too many discrepancies in all this.

Another discrepancy, although not boot-related, is the coronation of His Innocence Franconegro. Which happened 500 years ago.

"These are not the boots I was looking for."

"The feet of a little girl," she smiles. "They fit well on the pedals.

"Wait, what do you mean it was the coronation of Franconegro?"

"It was," she shrugs. "And then it was no more. And I was no longer holding my father's hand. He was no longer descending the stairs in Raehl. The crowd had gone silent."

"Perhaps it was another xerife who came and woke me up, looking at my boots, asking questions? Or perhaps it was one of the others in this carnaval. I don't remember."

As she says carnaval she gestures to the empty square -- with the statue and the machines.

(Turn to Kim.) "She is not Odd Sole. These are not the boots that made the prints."

He takes a quick note. "I could have told you that from just looking at them. Her size is 37."

"The feet of a little girl," she smiles. "They fit well on the pedals."

"Nothing, I guess. Let's talk about something else."

"Please? Help me out here. It's important."

"Please?" She raises her boot, slowly, with contempt. "I think you should let me get back to Gabriel Buenguerro. You're no Gabriel. Gabriel doesn't say please..."

"I'm looking for Ruby, the lady driver. Know anything about her?"

She cups her ear and leans forward. "Did you just call me a lady, xerife?"

If you want to know more about Ruby, this is a dead end. She's only heard the word 'lady' and latched onto it. You can push on if you're interested in that, though.

"Never mind. I have other questions."

"Well, aren't you a lady?"

The woman's malevolent cackling fills the roundabout.

"I'm a lady like you're Gabriel Buenguerro -- only in dreams."

"I'm terrifying to small children. And to those who used to know me."

"You said long haul. That's..."

"The big ones. The tracts. There's no women and men there, it's all just..." She hums along, as if to a track on repeat...

"'In the middle of this town there's a ghostly motorway -- it takes all the people where they want to stay'..."

You feel very cold suddenly. As if standing face to face with a terrifying adversary. Then the feeling dissipates and all you see is an ageing woman.

In the background, a quiet song seeps from her cabin into the air. You don't hear any vocals.

"Then who is the female driver I was told of?"

"How should I know? Do I look like I spend a lot of time with the other camionneurs -- sniffing around -- when I have my movies to go to..."

"Why are you scary to the people who used to know you?"

"Because they can no longer recognize the person I once was."

"That's all I needed to know, thanks." (Conclude.)

"O sim..." The woman stares at you, her mind elsewhere now, on other matters.

Something in her is pulling toward some unknown rest state. She twitches -- like a sleep kick.

"So... you're not the driver everyone is terrified of?"

"I'm only terrifying to small children. And to those who used to know me."

Yeah... it's not her. Believe me.

"What are you hauling?"

"Diamonds."

"Diamonds, really?"

"Of course not," she says, grinning. "But wouldn't it be marvellous if I was?"

"Okay, but what are you really hauling?"

She shrugs. "Whatever stupid things they put in the lorry, I imagine."

"Well, that's good enough for me."

"Is that all you wanted to know, lawman?"

"So you don't know what you're hauling in your own lorry?"

"I quit concerning myself with that a long time ago." She smiles a careless smile. "Besides, I don't drive the lorry for the cargo, if you know what I mean..."

She says that as if something narcotic is the real reason.