Conversation · Gary, the Cryptofascist

"Yes, it's the perfect way to create a false sense of security. They sell us fancy technology and then send in their experts, who pretend not to be experts..."

"But Seol makes their technology available for others."

"I find it alarming."

"That seems harmless enough."

"Yes, but consider: Seol is famous, or shall I say, infamous, for its spy tech. Don't you find it... convenient?"

"It sounds like their presence could contribute to economic growth and prosperity."

"And you think there's a problem with this?"

"Consider, though: Seol is famous, or shall I say, infamous, for its spy tech. Don't you find it... convenient?"

"Right, sure. You were saying?"

"I was saying -- even as Seol remains closed off from the world, Seolite agents have been slowly advancing through the echelons of power on the other isolae."

"Yes, sir, I'm a regular Dick Mullen. But better, because I'm real."

His eyes widen momentarily. "Right, of course you are. Well, as I was saying..."

"I don't know how good of a detective I am, really..."

"Those who are best at their job are almost always the most humble. But, as I was saying..."

"I sense that you might be trying to flatter me."

"Perhaps I was presumptuous to suggest I knew anything about you, as we've only just met. My apologies. But, as I was saying..."

"I'm not sure I like where this is heading, but I'm willing to hear you out."

"Get on with it, then."

His smile, meant to convey total openness, is that of an experienced salesman.

Why's he shifting around like that? Analyze Gary's composure.

That shirt looks very uncomfortable on him. Look at the buttons, barely keeping that thing together -- as if something is ready to rip out from underneath.

His massive musculature?

No, he's scrawny. Try again.

Something worn underneath it?

Yes. Like a piece of ceramic armour, for example. One that makes a clicking sound when the plates meet each other, resembling pearls or marbles. Stolen from the corpse in the yard near where he lives.

"I see you're a connoisseur of high-quality combat gear."

"I knew you'd figure it out, officer." He sighs heavily. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you at once. I was..." He unbuttons the shirt.

"I was ashamed of what I did. And I didn't want you to know." You see gleaming white ceramic shine underneath -- a thin layer of interlocking plates covers his gaunt torso.

We're not detecting falsehoods, sire. He's gearing up to admit the truth.

This shame is surprisingly sincere.

"Gary, what's going on?"

"I took the hanged man's cuirass. I... I didn't mean to."

"Goddamit, Gary..."

"I know."

"Shame on you! Give the cuirass to the officer at once!" The woman looks at you, her eyes soft and pleading.

"Gary didn't mean to interfere with your investigation, officers, he's just... thick headed and poor as dirt. But he's always helped us, given us a place to stay. And he's followed Morell into god knows what jungles..."

He's a loyal friend.

"Why did you lie to me, Gary?"

"Because I was weak." He says, staring at nothing in particular. "I should have told you the moment I saw you, but..."

"He's a scaredy cat." The woman looks at Gary, her eyes motherly.

"THE HELL, GARY?! YOU IN TROUBLE?"

"I'll explain later..." He doesn't muster up the strength to yell.

"Do you know who killed the hanged man?"

"I always thought it was the Union, but... I sure as hell won't go around saying that anymore. You have my word. I don't know -- and I won't be running my mouth on this subject anymore."

This is all he knows.

"I always thought it was the Union... some Union hard-asses. Lynched him because of the strike. But almost everyone in town knows that. I wish I could tell you more..." He shakes his head.

"Give me that armour. Now."

He sighs again, hangs his head, and unbuttons his shirt fully. A cuirass that matches the dead man's boots comes into view. Soon it is in your hands -- smelling of his sweat.

But so, so light to hold. Like a bag of cotton.

This is it. This will protect your mortal shell. Don it and live.

"Are we done here, Gary?" (Conclude.)

"Yes. Absolutely. I will never do anything like this again." He looks around, relieved of some burden, his mouth still quivering.

"Why did you really put those clothes in the trash?"

"Everyone was picking those pieces off him and I was watching them do it. And they scattered his clothes all over the yard, everything was smelling..." He looks at his feet.

"So I went there to take out my trash and started cleaning up. All those rags on the ground, him swinging up there, and..." He swallows. "I had a lapse of honour, sir. I thought: He's a foreigner. They all say he wasn't from here."

"Only the cuirass was left, so I stripped it off him. It was early in the morning, no one saw me. I took it with me. It was a mistake. Had I known it'd give you guys' trouble, I wouldn't have..." His lips start quivering. "Fuck..."

We're detecting sincere contrition here, sire. He's not trying to flatter anyone.

"It's okay." The lieutenant jots something down in his notebook. "It was a loose end and you're tying it up now."

"I'm so fucking sorry I called you Yellow Man." He says silently. "Seolite officers commanded the Suzerain's navy. Most of them sided with the King, when..." He shakes his head.

They were thoroughly conservative men, he realizes suddenly.