Conversation · Egg Head

"Is there anything we can do about it?"

"Ooh." His mind is seemingly flipping through the options. "I don't know. Maybe someone can do something with this. I imagine this is the sound that the future could make."

"Sounds like a horrible future."

"Can't escape the sound, can't escape the future!"

"Sounds like the future could be even more hard core than I ever imagined."

"YEEEAAAGH!"

"Is your real name Germaine?"

"D'accord hard core! Germaine Egg-Head."

"Uhm, basically, yes it is."

"Egg, can you please route Soona's signal through your speakers?"

"To the mega! Yeagh!" He gets serious. "I can route it through auxilliary -- what kind of a cable does she use? 3.5 or 4.5?"

"It's 3.5, no doubt about it. It's on the ground." (Point to it.)

"Oh... oh... she uses 3.5..." An uncomfortable pause follows. "Yeah, the auxiliary line-in is 4.5 mm. These two don't mix."

"Oh no." The lieutenant closes his eyes. "We're going to be in this church forever."

"Don't worry, I have an adapter for it right here!" He searches for the cable on the ground and picks it up, looking at the jack.

"Hang on -- this is a 4.5! We're all good, people!" With a grin he sticks the plug into the auxiliary line-in. You hear a satisfying click.

Whooh, thank god -- adapters noticeably degrade the sound quality.

"Great, someone got through to him. Okay, let's get it all set up. Can we turn the music off, please?"

"Egg, the music?"

"Everybody, everybody! Don't panic, I'm going to turn off the Arno for just a sec," the young man shouts as he clicks a switch on the mixer, "for a special scheduled event..."

"The Arno will be back! But we're doing something else for one moment." He turns to you. "Alright, go tell her that Egg Head is ready to rave to her tunes -- and then I'll turn off the music!"

Oh god, you're going to be in this church forever. FOREVER.

Maybe your body can tell you what Arno van Eyck's jam is missing? To make it... harder core.

You know it in your lungs where the pressure should vibrate, in your heart that's alone, and in your solar plexus where the hits should land... so does every chordate animal...

"Needs more bass."

"What?!" The young man makes a sudden move, like he's about to turn the volume down. But that would be ridiculous.

"And a melody. A good melody is what makes the song really stick, so that you can't get it out of your head anymore." (Point at your head.)

"Wow, okay! We should start with the melody. But where would we get that stuff from?"

"I don't know. I was thinking you would know..."

"I'm sorry, I don't know anything about anodic music, I'm just the party boy. I get the people going and say it's hard core..."

He feels ashamed he can't be of more service to the future of dance music.

"No, I really don't have time for this." (Don't take the task.)

"Oh..." For a moment he doesn't know what to say.

"Okay, I get it, man. The party goes on!"

"Alright, I'll see if I come up with something on my own. A citizen investigation." (Take the task.)

The young man falls silent with appreciation. He even tries to contain his smile, as if it could hinder your investigation.

"Basically what you need to find here is a tape with some banging music on it, so that Egg Head could use it to remix van Eyck's jam."

"Yeah. Maybe that streethawker across the pawnshop has got some tapes to sell? That's just an idea."

Wait, they want you to run all the way back to Martinaise with that leg of yours, just to get some 'tape'? Ouch.

There is a hawthorn tree on Rue de Saint-Ghislaine, right next to the canal. A reel of magnetic tape is caught in its branches, like bronze ribbons blowing in the wind...

"Before I go on, where is Rue de Saint-Ghislaine?"

"Oh, I know! I know this! I can tell you where it is!"

"Saint-G is the boulevard before the canal bridge. The one that takes you to the Whirling-in-Rags and the Industrial Harbour. It's got the lanterns and the---"

"I knew that! I could have said that!"

"And the mosaic sidewalk."

"But it's all blocked with that stupid traffic jam right now! Anyway..."

"It feels cold."

"Does it?" He looks around, looking for the cold.

It's your health -- you're not well enough to run around just days after you've been shot.

Shake it off.

"Anyway... That's all yours to figure out, cop-man."

"COP-MAN!" yells Egg Head.

"Okay, I'll look into it. In an official capacity. It's up to the police to make the beats go harder." (Take the task.)

"Nowhere. I'm not gonna become some sort of Anodic Cop too, I've got enough copotypes already."

Chill, my man. You'll get there -- eventually.

"Oh no, please become one..." (He didn't even notice you mentioning some 'island'.) "You'll miss out on so much good content otherwise. It's like being the greatest cop on earth!"

"Please. Please?" The young man smiles at you widely, bright and innocent as the summer sun.

You don't have time for this nonsense. You've got safe boring things to do.

His pleaful smile is disarming, but you can withstand it's glorious assault, if you just put your heart into it.

"Oh no, please become one... you'll miss out on so much good content otherwise. It's like being the greatest cop on earth!"