Conversation · Measurehead

"TRUE. I SAID NOTHING ABOUT OUR PERSONAL DYNAMIC -- THAT HAS ALTERED." He adds: "A LITTLE."

The man is still knocked out. He breathes slowly and steadily.

It'll take a few moments for him to recover.

"THE UNPROMISING RACE PUPIL RETURNS."

"YOUR RACE DESCENT HAS ONLY WORSENED SINCE I LAST SAW YOU -- YOU HAVE REALLY LET YOURSELF GO."

"LAST WE SAW, YOUR RACE WAS BEING SUPERSEDED BY THE SEMENESE."

"You're right about all this. Now I just need you to let me go into the harbour."

"ENOUGH WITH THIS BEGGING. YOU SHOULD LEAVE THE STAGE OF HISTORY WITH DIGNITY -- BY INVITING THE OTHER RACES TO A GREAT WORLD WAR."

"BRING YOUR TROOPS TO THE SEMENINE ISLANDS AND TO BOOGIE STREET AND WE WILL PULVERIZE YOU. WHEN YOU ARE GONE WE WILL BUILD A MUSEUM FOR YOU."

"THE WALLS WILL BE LINED WITH BOTTLES OF AL GUL -- YOUR BELOVED BEVERAGE. INSIDE WE WILL STORE THE ODES TO HOMO-SEXUALITY YOU CALL ART AND YOUR MICROCEPHALIC SKULLS."

You could internalize Measurehead's race theory. It would enrich you rhetorically.

I like the punching idea more.

Do it! Now!

Bröther... this one might know how to turn back time.

Wouldn't that mean I have to become a Semenese supremacist myself?

Well, not as such. What you do with a mastery of advanced race theory is up to you. You could reject the findings, sure -- or accept them and become an advanced racist.

But I already subscribe to one race theory, won't they conflict each other?

The down with racism thing? That's basic race theory. This is way above that. Way.

Right. Good idea.

The best idea.

No... don't 'rip into' anyone. You're sensitive, remember? Communicate.

This is your chance, he's talking... rip into him with a punch and catch him off guard.

No, there's a peaceful solution. You could internalize Measurehead's race theory. He would take you as one of his own.

There may be a peaceful solution to this. You could internalize Measurehead's race theory. He would take you as one of his own.

Push him out of the way.

"THAT IS RIGHT." He doesn't even flinch. "YOU SHOULD LEAVE THE STAGE OF HISTORY WITH DIGNITY -- BY INVITING THE OTHER RACES TO A GREAT WORLD WAR."

"Come on, I just need you to move about twenty centimetres back."

"IT IS MY TASK TO KEEP THE DEGENERATE DRUNKS FROM ENTERING THE HARBOUR."

"This is going nowhere." [Leave.]

"We still need to get into the harbour. We need help with the tree situation. There must be another way..."

Try the jump? Up there, on the roof! It'll be worth it. Else there is little choice but to figure out a way to deal with the man...

"We still need to get into the harbour. There is an interview to conduct. There must be another way..."

"The situation is serious. Your people have probably killed a man. I need to talk to your boss."

"YOUR BODY CONTINUES TO BETRAY YOUR DEGENERACY."

Your body does not betray your degeneracy, that's a lie. You're in great shape.

Don't say anything, size him up first.

"My body does not betray my degeneracy!"

"YOU HAVE SUCCUMBED TO AL GUL." His face contorts in disgust -- as if he were smelling a dead rat.

"YOU REEK OF IT. AN INVISIBLE SWORD OF AL GUL EMERGES FROM YOUR THROAT. YOU CANNOT SEE IT, BUT OTHERS CAN. IT IS MAKING THE WOMAN IN MY COMPANY SICK."

"Wait, uhm... Al Gul?"

"YES -- AL GUL.

He means alcohol.

"Understood."

"I DOUBT IT, MY MICROCEPHALIC RACE SERVANT."

"But what is Al Gul?"

"CORRECT, MY SMALL-SKULLED SERVANT." He nods approvingly.

"AL GUL IS AN ANCIENT IILMARAAN POISON, A PARASITIC FUNGUS THAT HAS COLONIZED YOUR RACE. IT IS A TRICK THE DESERT PYGMEES PLAYED ON YOU -- FOR HUMILIATING THEM AND STRIPPING THEM OF THEIR LAND."

Intentionally fermented drinks have existed for ten thousand years...

"This has nothing to do with why I'm here."

"YOUR LIFE AND THE LIFE OF YOUR RACE REVOLVE AROUND AL GUL. IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH WHY YOU'RE HERE."

"You mean alcohol?"

"CORRECT, MY SMALL-SKULLED SERVANT." He nods approvingly.

"The Iilmaraan people did not invent alcohol. It's existed since the neolithic."

"THIS IS A FABRICATION THE AL-CHEMISTS OF YEESUT AND BASHIR AND THEIR GOLEM, AL GUL, HAVE FED YOUR PEOPLE. GO ON BELIEVING IN IT, RACE LOSER."

"I don't think that's how history works."

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE ANOTHER DRINK? YOUR FEATURES ARE NOT YET CONGENITALLY DEFORMED ENOUGH."

"Oh yeah, Measurehead..." The babe looks at him with eyes full of admiration that transcends the merely sexual.

This is going well for Measurehead.

"That's probably right, yes."

"GOOD, THERE IS A FRITTTE NEARBY. CONGRATULATE YOURSELF WITH ANOTHER DRINK. YOUR FEATURES ARE NOT YET CONGENITALLY DEFORMED ENOUGH."