Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

"I am a highly experimental cop. But if I am right... this is outré even by my standards."

"Really?" His eyebrow gets raised one more notch.

"I arrive at the scene three days early, drink myself to oblivion, fully re-immerse myself in this reality and then work the case from an angle so crescent fresh it produces never before seen results. Not only for criminology, but for the human mind."

"It can't be that..." Part of him sort of wants to believe what you just said.

"It isn't. But I will prove it so."

"I hope you do."

And he will help.

"I am a notoriously difficult-to-work-with wunderkind with extremely unorthodox methods."

"Wouldn't that be something? And who could say it's not true? If you really don't remember anything... how would you know?" The thought makes him uneasy. "We should move."

"Of course not. I'm just a drunk. They sent a drunk."

"Are you sure? Who could say it's not true? If you really don't remember anything.... how would you know?" The thought makes him uneasy. "We should move."

"Forget it, it's too much."

"Don't be scared, but I think I might have supra-natural abilities."

He opens one hand and looks at it. A moment passes.

"Which school do you subscribe to -- Mambo..." He opens the other hand: "...or Jambo?"

"Wait, which one is the one where you hear your tie talk to you?"

"Mental illness."

"I don't have that -- I have something cooler. What was that? Mambo and Jambo?"

"Yes."

"Mambo -- I have a vivid interior. I see and feel things."

"It's always good to have a police officer who can see and feel."

"I think I might have both Mambo and Jambo -- I imagine strange things and get cold chills too."

"I didn't know that was even possible. It must be a great burden."

"It's not a burden, it's a gift."

"It's good to have...." His mouth twitches as he comes up with the expression: "...an ambidextrous para-detective in a labour dispute. I can see why they sent you -- should we go?"

"It's both a burden -- and a gift."

"It is."

"Jambo -- I get these strange shivers from being hung over. Just before, a chill whisked down my back."

"Hangovers do give officers super-powers. Many drink only to receive the gift."

There is no gift. It must be repeated: there is no Gift. It is meant as obvious sarcasm. Do not ask what The Gift is.

"What is the gift?"

"There is no gift. We should move."

"I think I have it."

"It is good to have a para-detective in a labour dispute. I can see why they sent you -- should we go?"

"It's nothing major. Just feels a bit strange that's all."

"Because I have that."

"So the 41st Precinct sent you, because you are the most mentally ill out of all the officers at your station?"

"No, it's not that bad. I'm sure we have officers way more mentally ill than me."

"Then why did they send you?"

"I don't know, I don't remember any of the other officers."

"Of course." Sounds like you just answered his question.

"I must be an augury, an apocalyptic omen sent by my people. Can you guess my message?"

"No."

"Better not to relay it."

"I agree. Too dark."

"There will be a blood-letting of unimaginable proportions. Un-imaginable."

"Oh no, it's very imaginable. We fail to place responsibility for the hanging, the harbour company see the situation is out of control so they bring in private military, maybe a gunship, the Union responds in strength. Automatic fire."

"Local law enforcement solving one little homicide decides nothing. Not solving it... can have real and calculable effects. Things can always get worse. Matter of fact, augury, we should move."

"You know, actually no. I'm not an augury. I don't why I said that."

"Okay, enough of the competition then. Tell me something else." (Conclude.)

"Yes, it's a wholly pointless matter. Forget I ever mentioned it."

He's actually glad it's addressed now.

"So you volunteered to spoil it."

"Yes. I'm an unrepentant spoilsport." The lieutenant appears pleased with this.

"It's just stupidity. We shouldn't waste any more time on it. If you want my take, ask me after we've inspected the victim."

On the surface he's dismissive, but there's a conspiratorial glint in his black eyes. If only you knew what he would say...

"Talk of this..." (Consider the phrasing.) "...pissing competition worries me. What stupidity is this?"

Let it go.

"You should tell me now. This seems relevant."

"Later." His voice is unflinching. "Was there anything else you wanted to know about the case?"