Conversation · Plaisance

"Oh my god, will you stop with the incessant yammering? It's too much." Her palm goes to her face. "If you wanted the key to the back door you could have just asked for it."

"But I don't want to ask for it, asking is beneath me."

"Oh? Well good for you, because you're not going to get it anyway!"

"Fine, I'll ask for it. Can we have the key?"

"Mind your manners, John. This isn't the great Shao Empire, where you can talk about sex stuff so openly!"

"This is preposterous, a waste of my time and of no help to anyone." She looks displeased.

"You shouldn't be so trusting of your husband. Men are filthy, treacherous pigs."

"We are truly private in our partnership."

I don't want to say all that.

Yes, you do.

No. It's really stupid.

You're right. What could go wrong?

Attaboy.

"Uh, this Dick Mullen book fell apart before I got to the end. Do you have another copy?" (Show her the item.)

"Oh, I'm very sorry, sir. Some of these old paperbacks just don't have the durability. I would be happy to sell you another one, but unfortunately it's the last copy we had in stock."

She calls that customer service?!

"I talked to the Entity you told me about. Her name is Neha and she's a novelty dicemaker."

"A novelty dicemaker?" Her eyes widen. "Well, spit it out! Why does she need the dice -- for some kind of sorcery? Sometimes they use the ankle bones of sheep..."

"No, ma'am. I have felt her aura. She is not the one to blame for this curse."

"I don't understand. If it's not her, then where is the source of the Doom? How did she explain the curse?" She looks perplexed.

Before you say anything, ask yourself. Is the woman really able to withstand the truth?

The narrative she's built herself -- it does need tearing down.

She's squeezing on the pendant too tight. A drop of blood in her palm...

Just don't say you don't have any answer yet. The uncertainty is killing her.

To hell with it -- perchance you ought to just lie, sire?

You've come this far -- you know how to end it. There is an entity behind the entity.

"Honestly, I don't have an answer yet. There are still leads to be followed, like that strange radiocomputer-thing..."

"You're telling me that you went in there and didn't find out anything about the curse?!" She looks disappointed.

"Of course, I should have known better than to put my hopes on a man like you... You're no Semenese ghostwhisperer, you're an alcoholic!"

"The investigation's over. I don't want you going in there anymore, you're only angering the psychic weather in here. Now, if you're not going to buy anything..." She turns to face the door, waiting for potential customers.

Wow. Total psychic collapse between you two right now.

There was never any other way this could have gone. She's just too far gone -- into her own mind.

Anger and loneliness keep this woman moving through the waking hours. Your little words are no match for it.

"I am sorry we had to disappoint you, ma'am." He turns to you. "Can we go now?"

The shop around you feels ancient suddenly, damp and saturated by the coastal air. The books are rotting, a great cold lives here. And there, too -- 1200 metres away, on the urban coast. The dark shape of a church is reflected on the water, calling.

"She said it's just capitalism. Bankruptcy is a quirk of our economic system."

"Wait, WHAT?" Her entire face goes white as a skull. "The entire economic system is cursed?!"

This woman's not healthy enough to withstand this level of stress.

"It's true. We live in a precarious world, nothing ever turns out right. You need to get used to chaos." (Proceed.)

"Precarious world? Economy?" She looks down at the pendant in her trembling hands...

"I understand what's going on here. You went in there, rummaged around -- and accomplished nothing. And now you're telling me these intellectual things to cover up for it."

"It's okay. You don't have to. I was wrong to trust another person. I will manage this psychic calamity as I always have -- alone. On my own..."

As she has to -- every day.

Maybe you were wrong. She's endured for at least four decades in this world.

"Thank you for nothing. Please, do buy some books -- or be on your way,“ she concludes, tucking the pendant away in her blouse.

"I'm afraid that only world revolution can help you." (Proceed.)

"Another revolution?" She looks down at the pendant in her trembling hands, she collects herself.

"What I meant was... I found the source of the doom. Forget about the economy thing." (Back off.)

"You found a way to fix our entire economic system...?" She peers at you suspiciously. "Or are you talking about the building?"

"Yes. I utilized the secret methods of the Remote Viewers Division."

"I understand that you can't divulge official secrets, officer. But know that I appreciate the efforts of your department." She looks at you with sudden admiration.

"All that matters is that the energies are retreating. I can already feel the curse lifting! It will be a long time until we're fully free of it, of course. But still..."

"Thank you, officer. Truly. You've brought a better psychoemanation to this humble bookstore and that's no small achievement."

She so badly wants this to be over, she would have believed anything.

It will only last a day or two, a week tops. Then her mood will sour and she will feel the curse again.

"All right then -- all's well that ends well." The lieutenant turns to you. "Should we return to our ordinary lives?"

"Yes. I called upon the spirit of Guillaume le Million to banish the curse in a flash of disco brilliance."

"Guillaume le Million? The singer who made that awful face? Well... I do see the resemblance..." She looks at you with sudden admiration.

"Yeah, I de-spooked it. The curse is definitely gone."

"What does that mean? Are you certain... Oh, but who am I to question your methods?" She looks at you with sudden admiration.