Conversation · La Fumée, Vol. 1 No. 4

The face of King Frissel smiles at you. For some reason the smile now strikes you as more forced than it did before.

Let's see what they mean by 'Local Concerns'.

Unsurprisingly, much of this section is taken up with articles declaring unqualified support for the dockworkers' strike.

You skim the headlines: 'Paint the Harbour Red and White!', 'Martinaise Tames the Wild Pines', 'A City in Revolt', 'First We Take Martinaise, Then We Take La Delta!'.

Finally, there's a brief article by the writer 'G. Martin' accusing the owner of the Capeside Apartments of illegally attempting to evict certain communist tenants simply for not having paid their rent.

Ah, this must be Gaston's handiwork.

Wouldn't it be better for everyone if labour and capital could reach some reasonable accommodation?

According to these editorials, there can be no accommodation with the forces of international capital or their 'mucilaginous allies' in the Coalition...

Why do communists love puerile insults? And they wonder why they're always being left out in the cold.

You flip back to the front of the magazine. The table of contents unfolds before you.

Hold on, what's this about a 'Coalition'?

Judging from the context, it's something very large and fundamental. You should probably know about it already, honestly.

Damn communists. Should've killed the lot of them when they had the chance.

One of the editorials proclaims that the more the forces of reaction attempt to crush the body, the more defiant the spirit of communism becomes...

Sounds like their bodies just haven't been crushed enough yet.

If it weren't for the Wild Pines all those moochers would be out of a job.

According to these editorials, private enterprise is simply a means of organising labour that would already happen regardless...

Absolute nonsense. Whoever wrote this has clearly never built a successful business before.

It goes on to call the Wild Pines a 'nightmarish transnational leech, sucking the life from the labouring classes of Martinaise'.

Charging rent just to live somewhere is pretty outrageous.

The writer G. Martin remarks dryly that 'capitalists love wealth redistribution, so long as it's only redistributed upward'...

Good thing your rent-paying days are behind you.

It's true. The rentiers have been bleeding you dry. You really ought to find your own place one of these days.

Why should I care? This doesn't have anything to do with me.

The eternal problem, according to G. Martin, is that under capitalism the worker is rendered incapable of perceiving their own agency (or lack thereof)...

Thus, they tend to experience their own oppression as though it were happening to somebody else.

Is, is that true? Have you felt estranged from your own self recently?

I want to catch up on 'International Developments'.

This section includes a long, tedious critique of the latest round of free-trade negotiations between the EPIS nations and the Free State of Semenine.

You also skip over an article about heavy fuel oil smuggling along the Mesque-Messina border, something about bear wrestling in Samara, book riots in Yugo-Graad...

Whoa-whoa-whoa. Bear wrestling? Flip back to that!

Alright, let's see what this 'bear wrestling' is all about...

It seems to be part of a new public fitness initiative in the People's Republic of Samara (SRV), devised and promoted by none other than President Knezhinisky himself.

According to this extremely credulous account, 'Uncle Sport' (as he's affectionately known to his people) has recently decreed bear wrestling the national sport of the SRV.

Hang on, tell me more about this 'Uncle Sport'.

Based on the description in this article, he appears to be an extremely competent and democratically elected president.

Sapormat 'Sport' Knezhinisky is well into his third decade as president of the SRV. Outside Samara he's known for three things: Brutal repression of internal dissent, monumental corruption, and a near-pathological obsession with physical fitness.

Son, it's only an obsession if its unhealthy. And there's nothing healthier than maintaining a sound body. Also, you're forgetting about the moustache.

Right. Like all Samaran men above the age of 40, President Knezhinisky wears a truly spectacular walrus moustache.

Great. Now let's get to the bear wrestling.

It's quite straightforward. A standard match features one man (or in some cases, woman) against one bear. Two competitors, one ring, five rounds (or until 'incapacitation')...

According to the SRV's Ministry of Information, the programme has been a tremendous success. Public support stands at 87%, and youth obesity and alcoholism rates are down 12% and 7% respectively.

This is the SRV we're talking about. If you think those are the real numbers there's probably a guy who wants to sell you a bridge in La Cherte.

I guess it's hard to fight a bear if you're out of shape.

That's very much the idea. President Knezhinisky has long maintained that a strong body is the best defence against capitalist aggression.

Good thing you're a goddamn ox, son. An ox that fights bears.

Always good to catch up on foreign affairs. (Return to the table of contents.)

"Kim! Do you think there's any chance our case will take us to the SRV?"

"The Samaran People's Republic?" The lieutenant frowns. "No, I should expect not. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"You know, not too long ago I listened to a fascinating radio programme on traditional Samaran folk dances. The costumes they wear are supposed to be extraordinary..."

"In any event, no, I haven't seen any evidence there's a Samaran angle to this case."

"I was thinking it might be fun to partake in a bear fight."

"I suppose that would be something to see." The lieutenant seems amused at the thought of you wrestling a bear.

"What you do in your spare time is your business. In the meantime, I would prefer you focus on our case."

"I was thinking it might be fun to see a bear fight."

"They're quite the spectacle, as I understand. I've heard they make the people in the front rows wear plastic sheets..."

"On account of the blood, you see."

In shape, out of shape. You've always preferred to rely on your wits.

Hmmm. Not sure I trust these numbers.