Conversation · Steban, the Student Communist

It's too late. You've already opened your mouth to speak...

"Yeah, I'm good. No questions for me." (Cancel task.)

"See, Steban? I told you there's no such thing as a gendarme communist."

"It seems you're right, Uli. I should've listened to you." He sighs, then turns to you.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some group business to attend to."

"Nothing, I just thought there would be more..."

"More what?"

"I don't know. More... something?"

"It seems like there's something on your mind. Maybe a question you mean to ask?" The young man turns to his companion, then back to you.

Has it gotten cold in here? Your arms seem to be covered in gooseflesh.

You've accrued a modest account balance over the last few days, but probably not enough to warp your thinking too much.

Nothing to fear. Judging from your account balance, you should be thinking extremely clearly.

"That light itself is a bourgeois illusion!"

"Or it suggests that capital, in sufficient quantities, must exhibit its own plasm-like qualities..."

"... but my question is where does the RCM recruit all these hyper-revolutionaries to join this 'Remote Viewers Division'?"

"And my point is that maybe these hyper-revolutionary individuals are more common than infra-materialism generally assumes..."

"Fascinating..."

"Yes, only the detective here would draw a connection between a made-up division of para-psychics and the addled ramblings of a defunct communist mage..."

The young man ignores the lieutenant. "But I suppose it makes sense that some common strain of infra-materialist thought would persist in the RCM, even to this day, given its origins."

A fortunate turn that the lieutenant isn't here. Imagine what he would have to say about this.

The young man nods thoughtfully. "But I suppose it makes sense that some common strain of infra-materialist thought would persist in the RCM, even to this day, given its origins."

"It's less that you're 'recruited' into the RVD and more like you're called."

"... but I'm still trying to figure out how the pale fits into all this..."

"The two phenomena are actually deeply intertwined." He nods. "Many infra-materialists believe that pale is actually a manifestation of nostalgia and historical inertia..."

"Those same theorists have hypothesised that revolution may in fact create a counter-force that prevents the pale from expanding."

"... so wait, you're saying that President Knezhinisky has never opened a book?"

"No-no-no. We're saying he doesn't need to open them, because he absorbs all the relevant content just by staring intently at the cover. It's a widely understood second-level effect..."

"We've tried it ourselves, but thus far we haven't been able to absorb more than the preface and table of contents."

"... all I'm saying is if you want to get really extra-physical, pyrholidon is the way to go..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... or maybe I'm wrong. It could really go either way."

"Undoubtedly."

"... anyway, I think I've made my point."

These two are full of interesting stories and rumours about Nilsen, Mazov, and their revolutionary exploits. Half an hour passes and the conversation gradually wends its way to some unexpected places...

"You're back." The young man turns to you.

"The gendarme returns." The young man turns to you. "What do you need?"

The two young men are either oblivious to or ignoring your entrance. Their attentions are fixed on whatever it is they're stacking in the middle of the floor...

Matchboxes, it appears.

"I think it's holding, Ulixes..."

"It is, it's holding!"

It's definitely not holding. Those matchboxes are stacked so haphazardly it's like they want them to collapse.

"Careful, careful!"

"Damn. Hardly any difference..." The young man shakes his head, and then looks up at you with barely concealed irritation...

"You're late."

"He should know the meeting starts at 22.00 sharp." His companion looks up at you and squints.

His eyes are tracing an invisible line back and forth from your jacket to his companion.

"Hey, Steban. Isn't that your jacket?"

What a coincidence! You two have the same jacket. What are the odds?

Based on the prevalence of white Saramirizian suits in Martinaise? Extremely low.

"It certainly looks like my jacket, Ulixes. Where did you get that, gendarme?"

[Leave.]

"Must be a coincidence. I see these jackets all the time."

"Unlikely. That's real Saramirizian twill. Only old Saramirizian communists and drug smugglers wear those anymore..."

He is neither of those, of course. He is simply a poor student, putting on airs. Also, he doesn't have the shoulders to fill out such a jacket.

"See, Uli? It's just like Mazov wrote. How does it go again?"

"'Those committed to the rights of property are those most apt to violate them'." His companion nods emphatically.

Just a minute. Steban... Ulixes... why do those names ring the faintest of bells?

Probably because they're the real names of 'Nasteb' and 'Exilus', the authors of that so-called essay about TipTop Tournée you read...