Conversation · Racist lorry driver

"Yeah, alright. I wasn't really that interested in your cargo anyway."

Damn. You're not gonna get more out of him on this. He's put up the Wall of Racism.

"Apples?"

"Yeah, apples... I take it you had other questions?"

"Wait, how long has this been going on then?"

"The strike? They've been at it for a while. A month, two months maybe?" He gestures towards the lorries. "But this here is just the last week or so."

"You're lorryman, right? What's your stance on drugs?"

"Drugs? They're shit, man. I don't let anything pollute my body." He takes a long drag on his cigarette.

"You smell of booze and cigarettes, what's different about narcotics?"

"You know where that shit comes from? Saramiriza, Safre, Iilmaraa. They take the money from our local junkies here and then use it to out-compete us in the manufacturing sector."

"They know they can't beat us in a fair fight, so they have to get us to weaken ourselves somehow. It's racial sabotage. Racial economic sabotage."

There's your in. Take his side in this particular fight.

"Hold on, but they make Al Gul -- alcohol -- in IIlmaraa too. I was told they do."

"I don't go for that foreign piss. Proper booze is made in Mundi, or sometimes I like a dram of that Yugo-Graad vodka. Kojko's ain't worth much, but they do know booze."

"Listen, I agree. It's our responsibility to keep this poison off the streets of Revachol, right?"

"Look, I'm gonna be straight with you since you're my kin. I don't know shit. And if I did I wouldn't tell you. You're a cop, I'm not an idiot." He puffs on his cigarette.

"So why are you still hanging around here? Most of the other lorrymen have left."

"What do you think? I can't leave the lorry unguarded. Stuff's been getting looted lately. It's those little kipts sneaking around at night... If they touch my stuff, the bosses will be on my ass like ass cancer."

There was a bunch of spilled boxes in the back of a big lorry nearby...

"I did see one lorry with the trailer doors open on my way here. Do you know what happened?"

"Yeah, I knew that guy. He was an honest driver who loved his country. We were having a good debate about genetics at the Whirling-in-Rags when some kipt-boys smashed his lock and took damn near everything. Lost his fucking job over it."

He takes a long suck on his cigarette, appearing to savour the taste. "Since he left I haven't had anyone to talk to..."

If they were getting drunk inside the Whirling-in-Rags how could they know who broke into the lorry?

"If you all were at the Whirling, how do you know it was kipts who broke into the lorry?"

"What, aren't we allowed to say that it's the kipts who do all the stealing around here? It's not rotor science, man..."

"Bad for him, I guess."

The man shakes his head, dismayed -- furiously pulling on his cigarette: "It's a fuckin' travesty, is what it is."

"Serves him right."

Say nothing.

The man pulls on his cigarette furiously, probably still thinking about mesquitos and ass cancer.

He eyes you warily, unsure how to respond. This goes on for about two seconds, then...

Damn. It didn't work. You should have signalled you're a nationalist before.

"I don't know shit, and if I did I wouldn't tell you." He puffs on his cigarette.

"So, I take it you're not smuggling drugs out of Martinaise?"

"Not in, not out. I'll never betray the purity of my tribe."

"So you're telling us that you don't know anything about drug smuggling through Terminal B?"

"So you're telling me that you don't know anything about drug smuggling through Terminal B?"

"That's all I needed to know. Now let me ask you something else."

Perhaps it's good to agree? To get him talking.

"Why not?"

"Looking for something, runt? Come to tell me to fuck off again?"

You could push him by asking him to show you the soles of his boots. He definitely looks like someone capable of a lynching.

"Hello, compatriot!" He recognizes you. "You have something to discuss?"

"Looking for something?" The lorry driver recognizes you.

"Welcome to Re..." The fat man stops mid-sentence as he notices Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

"Do continue, sir." The lieutenant steps up to him again, his frame tense as a coiled spring.

"C'mon, man, the holler... It's just a greeting. A lorry driver thing."

"I know exactly what you meant. You think my kind doesn't belong here. That I should watch myself and behave."

"But you see, I'm an officer of the RCM -- it's actually my job to make sure you behave. I would advise you to remember that."

Silence. The air between them becomes tense.

Your partner needs backup. Now's your moment to shine!

"Well, I think we all learned something here." (Smile at the lorryman.)

"I haven't learned anything I didn't know before." The lorryman shakes his head with indignation.

The lieutenant exhales and resumes his regular calmness.

You sense slight embarrassment for the outburst. Or is it pride? Impossible to tell.

"Now that that's settled, we have a couple of questions."

"Whatever you say, officers." He waits impassively, cigarette smouldering between his fingers.

He smells of heavy motor oils. And his breath -- of high-tar content cigarettes. Probably Astra Whites.

You could ask him to show you the soles of his boots. He definitely looks like someone capable of a lynching. Maybe he was present?

"Fuckin' A, Kim. I've got your back." (Give the lieutenant a punch on the shoulder.)